[7] The Cover Up

(Malory)

A quick glimpse of a familiar pair of black boots blesses my sight as I stumble backwards and I almost suffocate from relief rather than from the panic of being stifled. I swing my other elbow –the one that isn’t throbbing- back to hit the clown in his stomach and he releases me with a groan. He clutches his abdomen. I turn to him, furious.

“What are you!? A lunatic!?”

He hushes me aggressively as he surveys the house from one end to the next, frantic. He becomes somewhat small for a moment, and then he turns to me and glares like I’ve committed a grave crime. He walks past me –gripping tightly to my wrist in the process- and pulling me quickly to a small cleaning closet at the side of the house. It’s so small and so filled with cleaning tools that barely anyone can fit inside it without interfering with anything by accident, but he manages to fit us both anyway. He stands just a foot’s distance in front of me in the crammed space. I fall into an uncomfortable sort of shock.

I open my mouth to yell at him but before I could, Kyle puts a finger over his lips to shut me up. I squint at him in disbelief. He keeps his index finger over his lips.

Wait... are they swollen?

I can’t quite tell... my eyes have gone blurry all of a sudden.

He listens for any abrasive sounds. Hearing nothing, he moves his finger. He stares me dead in the eyes. I can see the anger welling up. I can feel it. I expect him to start yelling at me. I start planning to yell at him. Instead, he whispers. Something tells me sound travels easily around here.

“Are you out of your mind?” He whisper-yells, “No, screw that, you are out of your mind! What on God’s green earth possessed you to come here, Lloyd? How did you even find me?”

“I’m the one who’s out of my mind?” I defend. “You went M.I.A for a whole week! Everyone’s worried to death. Ron’s nauseous and on the verge of having a heart attack. He’s worried, you’re not replying to him, you’re not coming to school, the teachers are having a fit, Mrs Bev and the drama teachers are going ballistic, and you’ve got an enormous purple bruise that needs an explanation. I’m not leaving here without one, Kyle.” I scoff, observing the cleaning closet and suddenly feeling completely out of breath. “And why are we in a cleaning closet? Why are we whispering? What’s with all the madness?”

I blink a few times while trying to compose myself; regain my sanity, straighten my posture, and actually process everything that had just happened in the last two minutes.

I look up at Kyle and finally see what I’ve been too hot-headed to see before. His hair hangs messily over his face as always. His lips are swollen –and he’s taken off the pair of black snakebites from his bottom lip. The purple bruise has gotten worse –spreading over slightly more skin than it had the first time I’d seen it... or maybe it’s just that I hadn’t seen how badly it was the first time.

He stares at me for two seconds before looking away. He refuses to meet my eyes. He inhales sharply and looks at the ceiling –the wall –the mop –anything but me.

He swallows, and with a breaking voice he says, “You need to leave. Now.”

“Not until you tell me what’s going on-”

“-GodDAMNIT, Malory! For once in your life!” Kyle’s hands grip to both my arms so tightly I can feel his nails digging into my skin. He shakes me aggressively as he speaks. He’s no longer regarding the thought of whispering. His eyes lock onto mine, and it’s the first time I’ve ever seen Kyle genuinely afraid instead of angry. My heart skips a beat –maybe two –maybe three –and he continues after a note of silence, shaking me less aggressively and more intently, more determined. “For once in your life just... listen to me.”

Then I see something I never thought I’d ever see –Kyle Davidson on the verge of tears.

Kyle is on the verge of tears.

His sad cognac eyes are welling up with salt water. Why is he being so... vulnerable?

I don’t know what to say. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to feel. I lower my head to stare at my feet and my eyes go blurry. I don’t want to raise my voice. I don’t know what would happen if I do.

“I... I’m sorry...” I say, slowly.

His hands loosen from around my arms but he doesn’t let go. I feel a slight sting where some of his nails had cut through my skin. I don’t budge, though, and I don’t dare to look up at him. Even without looking his way, I could still feel his gaze on me.

“Were you really that worried? About me?” He asks, uncertain, doubtful.

Yes, you dumb, red-brick blockhead! Yes!

I shoot him a glare and furrow my brows, clenching my fists at my sides. I keep my voice low. “Judging from the look of things, Kyle,” I finally find the courage to look up at him, my voice riddling with concern, “Do I not have a reason to be?”

He finally releases me. “This is none of your business. Stay out of it. Do you really want to get involved in this situation?” He points to his face, wheezing out a single, pathetic, breathy laugh and forcing a half-hearted smile. “Look at me. Tell me the truth.”

I don’t even know how I could find the stomach to look at him. The poor boy looks like he’d had the life beaten out of him.

But who the hell would do such a terrible thing?

Kyle and I may not be friends but I wouldn’t wish this kind of disaster on my worst enemy. I’m just not that kind of person.

I shouldn’t feel sorry for Kyle. Kyle put me through Hell.

But I do. Something inside me urges me to.

“...I... I don’t know what’s going on, but I’m... regretting a lot just looking at you,” I say, swallowing tightly. “And even if you leave me without an explanation, I’m going to think some horrible things about this and I’m still going to try to find a way to fix it.”

Kyle face goes expressionless, but he doesn’t take his eyes off of mine. “I’m not your problem to solve, Lloyd. You can’t fix something like this.”

My fists are tightening so much that my hands start to shake. It’s been so long since I’ve felt like my anxiety was bubbling over. I’ve done such a good job at keeping myself together...but this? This is about to break me.

“Who did this?” I ask, my voice trembling but stern. “Was it... your uncle?”

He doesn’t even reply. He looks away. He sniffles. He shifts on his feet. He shoves his hands into the pockets of his black hoodie. Then he looks at me and shrugs.

“What do you care, anyway?” He asks. “You throw punches at me all the time. We hit each other all the time. This isn’t something new.”

Suddenly I feel like the lowest being on the planet. Not even human. Not even an animal. Not a thing at all. What the hell am I? I’m not worthy of existing. I start to feel myself caving in. My breaths quicken. My eyes are going blurry again. I can feel myself about to faint.

“Can we... can we get out of this room?” I whisper. “I’m finding it extremely hard to breathe right now. And I don’t know how to process this. Look at you, Kyle. God, it makes me sick to think we’ve been demonising each other while you’ve had to deal with this. How long has this been happening? Tell me.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Kyle spits. “It won’t matter in a few days or weeks or months.”

That honestly hurt.

I understand that he doesn’t trust me. We never got along... but the moment something was genuinely wrong with Kyle I’d managed to disregard every reason I was ever mean to him and every instance when he was ever mean to me. The moment he said he was used to it I... I just... I don’t know.

There isn’t something worse than a dark, untold secret. This one in particular, whether it was a fight or his uncle, was a dark secret that he obviously didn’t want being gossiped about at school.

Who would want to walk into the school compound with such a big bruise on their face anyway?

Something inside me stirs and begs me to help him.

“Kyle, please... we have to talk about this...” I beg.

“Why?” He asks, suddenly. “So you can rub it in my face when we’re both in a good mood? You nag so much, Lloyd. It’s annoying. I don’t want to talk about it.”

A moment of silence passes between us. I can’t take my eyes away from him. He’d obviously been crying before I arrived. There are trails of almost-dried tear channels streaming down his face, and his eyes are red. His unusually pale face is flushed, and the awful colours of the bruise make him look sick. I almost cringe, but I can’t make him feel any worse about the situation. I don’t have the guts to do that.

He doesn’t want to talk about it.

But not talking about it won’t do him any good.

“Fine,” I say, unclenching my fists. I turn the door knob and open the closet, stepping outside. I turn back to look at him. He just stands there staring at the wall. He doesn’t even show the slightest interest in watching me leave.

He lowers his head and shakes it, chuckling humourlessly. Maybe he thinks I’m going to tell the whole world about his secrets. I guess there really is a lot that he doesn’t know about me.

I bite my lip, inhale deeply, and exhale sharply. “I... I won’t tell anyone.” His face shoots towards me at that. “I won’t say what’s going on... yet. I’ll... tell Ron and Olivia you’re fine. Is that what you want me to say?”

What am I doing?

A boy was clearly beaten up!

I should be reporting this to the authorities!

His face becomes less tense. “You didn’t... tell anyone? The last time?”

The last time? When I’d first seen the bruise? Psh, of course Davidson would think I’d talk about that. Because I’m obviously dumb enough to go shouting out people’s flaws to the universe.

Grow up, Kyle Davidson.

I know that I told Katy about it, but Katy is the quietest person in the world. She wouldn’t spill a decibel to a soul.

“No,” I say. “I didn’t.”

I turn on my toes when I lose sight of him and I run off –out of the gate and straight to the entrance of the compound.

***

(Kyle)

I stare at the ground after Malory’s footsteps fade into nothing and the creaking gate closes shut. Tears well up in my eyes and I let them fall to the floor, watching them drip one by one onto my boots.

Great.

As if I don’t have enough to worry about. Now the girl who hates me the most in the world has bait she can use on me. Technically, she doesn’t know the full story, but she doesn’t have to. And I’m sure Ron was the one who mentioned my uncle. Malory’s too intuitive not to figure it out.

Regardless of what she knows, I’m more afraid that she’ll figure the rest of it out. That she’ll end up in the mess, too. That Ace will find out.

Thankfully, he’s gone for now. He’ll have no idea she was here. But I can’t risk her ever being caught here. That corrupt culprit would be sure to check the security footage the moment he gets home.

I head swiftly to the security room. It’s a good thing Ace never really likes having henchmen around the house. There’s nobody to get in my way.

Just me here.

Only me.

What a blessing.

What a curse.

Bursting through the doors, I hack into the system and erase any trace of Malory’s appearance on the scene.

When I can breathe a sigh of relief, I think back to how genuinely upset and worried she looked when she saw me. Frankly, I think that it’s funny.

It’s funny that Malory Lloyd would be curious about what’s going on in my life.

It’s funny how she thinks she can persuade me to open up to her.

It’s funny how she thinks she can outsmart me.

I understand her.

She doesn’t actually care. And I’ll make sure she never has to.

***

(Olivia)

Sitting at a table for two in Nadine’s with Ron has me feeling anxious. My parents never let me go out just like that, and when they do, though I feel liberated and free, I can still feel the authoritative gaze of my religious parents hovering over my shoulder. Being out with Ron, granted he’s just Ron, is nerve wrecking. He’s not the worst looking guy in the world, and he looks my age. What if someone from the church sees me and tells my parents I’ve been hanging out with a boy? What if they ask about it?

God knows what my parents would do.

“I hope she gets through to him...” Ron says, releasing me from my cage of thoughts. “Sometimes I think she’s the only person who can.”

I agree. Malory and Kyle aren’t enemies –they never were. It was merely a misunderstanding that they both refused to settle that lead to more and more misunderstandings, until it was purely ‘hatred’.

I nod, saying, “They tick each other off a lot but... they won’t kill each other. There’s more to both of them than just the desire to be bullies. They’re both smart, and work extremely hard. They’re always busy, always doing something to keep themselves occupied. I wonder if they both do it for the similar reasons.”

“I think Kyle’s just doing the best he can,” Ron says. “He’s definitely not one to give up. He’s not one to lose determination easily. And when his uncle is gone he’s basically left with nothing to do anyway. All he has to do is keep up with the school work –which he’s way ahead of. That’s just my take on it. I think keeping himself busy is his way of reminding himself he’s alive.”

In that way, he’s a lot like Malory.

I twist my closed lips to the left side of my mouth before they part to sigh. We need a change of topic before this gets depressing. Then I remember the concept I’d thought of earlier that week. “Hey, you know as the understudies...”

“Mhm?”

“We’re supposed to be practicing just as often as the actual leads,” I tell him. “We should probably find a way to do that. I understand how your parents are, so if you have to organise the schedule or whatever, I’m fine with that. I’ll let my parents in on the rehearsals schedule with you as well. I doubt they’ll have a problem knowing it’s for school. I don’t think I need to be worried. And we have time, anyway. There’s no need to rush.”

He scoffs. “At this point, the whole fact that Kyle and Malory are the leads is making me depressed. Malory is trying. Kyle hasn’t shown up for the first two rehearsals, and he already has such little experience in the field of the performing arts –there could be a chance he has no experience at all. It’s depressing. You and I might as well just beg for the parts instead. It feels like we’re going to end up on stage in their place already, anyway.”

I grin. “I think you might be right. I want to believe you but at the same time, I think we should have some faith in our beloved chaos-duet.”

He chuckled at that, sipping into his juice. “We’ll still work on our own rehearsal schedule. Whatever happens between them won’t affect the show. They’re lucky they have reliable friends.”

I laugh and nod in agreement.

We fall into a comfortable silence. I watch Katy as she disappears to the kitchen with a full tray and reappears empty-handed a few moments later. She looks around the restaurant to find that nobody needs to be served for the while. She walks over to us with a relieved sigh and a grateful smile.

“So you’re the best friend of that Kyle Davidson kid Malory keeps going on and on about,” she says, in acknowledgment of Ron. “It’s an honour to finally meet you.”

He laughs at that, switching his glances between Katy and me. “How often does Lloyd talk about us?”

His phone suddenly rings and we all look down at the number appearing on the screen as the device lies there, vibrating on the table.

Malory is finally calling.

He answers and puts the call on loud speaker.

“Malory? That you?”

“He’s fine. I’m fine. We’re both fine.” Malory answers.

I breathe a sigh of relief.

“Oh, you saw him? Oh thank God.” Ron says, relaxing his tense shoulders to slouch in his seat.

“Are you okay? Where are you?” I ask.

“We’re at Nadine’s if you want to stop by,” Ron pitches in. “Say Hi, Katy.”

“Hi, Mal!” She says, cheerily.

“Hi, all of you,” Malory says, sounding tired. “I can’t come. I asked the taxi to drop me right at the main road so I’m currently walking to my house.”

“Stay on the line until you get there so I know you make it home safe,” I say, quickly.

I just can’t bear the thought of Malory getting into trouble... again.

“I’ll be fine, Olive. I promise,” she insists. “I’m almost there. I have to find my keys so I’m going to have to dig into my bag. I’m hanging up. Kyle is fine. He’s alive. He’s okay. He’s just under the weather... that’s all.”

“Fever or something?” Ron wonders out loud.

“Poor boy’s got it bad,” Malory says, and I could visualise the grimace on her face.

“Shit...” Ron mutters as he turns to me, “You think we should all go see him? Tomorrow or something?”

“No!” Malory answers quickly.

“No?” Ron asks.

“No, it’s fine,” she says, “When I went to see him I helped him out a bit. I even passed by a nearby drug store on his behalf. Don’t worry about him. He’ll be fine. I’ll keep checking in on him. Ron, can you text me Kyle’s number?”

“You don’t have it?” Ron asks her, taken aback.

“When would I have ever asked Davidson for his number?” She asks him, melodramatically.

He nods once, “Good point. I’ll send it right now, then.”

“I’ll see you guys soon,” she says. “I’m at my front door. Bye.”

“Bye!” Katy says.

She is going to have to tell me everything.

“Bye, Mal,” I say to her. “I’ll message you later!”

She hangs up and Ron immediately messages the phone number to her.

We sit back into our seats, huffing in relief.

***

(Malory)

The minute I get Kyle’s number I save it to my contacts list. I can’t ignore the ache in my stomach or the pain in my head. I can’t ignore the pins and needles poking under my feet or the numbness of my chapped lips or my shaking fingertips. I drag a hand through the left side of my hair, exposing the few streaks of silver amongst the vast canvas of jet black strands. I groan in frustration. I look up at my front door, sighing and fumbling through my bag for my keys. I open the door, stepped inside, and proceed to slam the front door aggressively behind me as I flick the light switch on. I drag my feet into the kitchen and pull out a carton of cookies and cream ice cream from the freezer and a spoon from the dish drainer, carrying on with my stride into the living room. I drop my bag onto the floor and collapse unto the couch with my carton in hand. I switch the television on and stare at the program on the screen mindlessly. I can’t hear what the people are saying at all. I can’t even see them quite clearly.

I’m not sure how long it’s been before I’ve finally snapped out of my trance, but now my ice cream is half melted, and my eyes slow their way over to my schoolbag –the thought of pulling out my phone popping into my head.

Should I call him?

Should I ask if he’s okay?

Would he even want to talk to me?

Of course not. I’m not his friend.

He wouldn’t even talk to Ron.

But I can’t let go of what I’d seen.

And I can’t let go of the urge to be there for him.

After fighting with myself over the matter, I stretch over in an attempt to grab the bag and drag it onto the couch while not moving off the seat and it takes me almost forever before I finally get a hold of the strap. I pull the bag up onto the cushion beside me and take out my phone, switching it from hand to hand, trying to decide whether to go through with checking in on Kyle or not. I eventually stop stalling, and just stare at the device, frowning.

I decide to text Ron first.

If Kyle replies to Ron, maybe he’ll reply to me.

Me: I think if you message Kyle you’d get through to him now... maybe you should try it.

Ron: Really? Okay thanks I’ll try it now

Me: Tell me if he does, okay? If he doesn’t he’s probably just sleeping. But seriously, don’t worry. He’ll be fine.

Ron: oh, Mal! I forgot to ask you this over the phone... did his uncle leave yet? Or did you meet him? Is he still there?

Me: I didn’t meet him. Kyle was up trying to move around because he was feeling ‘like a dead bug just lying in bed all day’ and that was his poor excuse for answering the door for me.

Ron: Oh... but is his uncle still there?

Me: Yea. I don’t know if he was out or sleeping or what, though.

Ron: Did Kyle say when he was leaving?

Me: We didn’t exactly have time to talk about his uncle... he really wasn’t feeling too well. Davidson is too stubborn for his own good. He should have stayed in bed.

Me: Then again, I’m glad he answered the door for me.

Ron: Sounds like the Kyle I know, alright.

Ron: He replied

He replied.

...Which means he might reply to me...

Ron: Thanks, Mal.

Me: no problem. byeeee

Ron: byeeee

I hesitate, but then I realise who I’m hesitating over and I shove the whole thought of hesitation and fear aside. This is Kyle Davidson. He’s not anyone more to me than someone I’m merely worried about at the moment.

Me: hello, fellow associate

Kyle: ...who’s this?

Me: take a wild guess, clueless

Kyle: oh... Lloyd

Kyle: it’s you

Kyle: how do you keep getting all this information about me?

Kyle: psycho much? are you a stalker?

Kyle: do I have to report you to the police?

Me: Kyle

Me: are you alright?

Kyle: that’s not a correct answer

Kyle: don’t answer my question with a question

This dork!

Me: I’m serious, Davidson

Kyle: yea, yea, I am alright. I am alright and I was alright before you barged into the compound and I will be alright tomorrow and the day after that and the day after that.

That hurt my heart.

It genuinely hurt.

Me: Kyle...

Kyle: what?

Me: :(

Kyle: ... sigh.

Kyle: fine :( FINE!

Kyle: my face hurts like hell

Kyle: and my lip is hurting so much and I can’t put anything in my mouth without its disgusting feeling of mushiness and I hate it

Kyle: and my eyes hurt even though nothing’s really wrong with them.

Kyle: and even though I’m telling myself I can feel less of the pain when I fall asleep

Kyle: I CAN’T FALL ASLEEP

Me: :(

Me: How long do you think it’ll be before you heal properly?

Kyle: well, there’s a reason I have my hair the way that it is... I don’t know I don’t keep up with when things heal and when they don’t anymore.

Me: and you’ve had that hairstyle for a while now, too...

Kyle: yea.

Me: you should get checked out by a doctor. I’m serious. I’ll go with you if you want. I will.

Me: I really, really will...

Kyle: Hey Malory?

Me: yea?

Kyle: I’m... sorry

Me: what for?

Kyle: for... a lot of things. For aggressively shaking and yelling at you this evening. For pushing you against the locker... and the bullshit I said about your dad... I...

Kyle: I’m really really sorry...

Kyle: I am

Kyle: I’ve been an absolute prick

Well, I mean you’re still a prick, Kyle, it’s just that I’m not entirely keen on you being beaten up by anyone besides me. I’m kind of selfish with my punching bags.

Me: Shut up, Davidson, Don’t make me cry. I’m on the verge of tears just thinking about this evening and you. I have an awful headache and stomach ache. I’m so thankful tomorrow is Saturday.

Kyle: Don’t you work on Saturdays?

Me: I do.

Kyle: How could you celebrate a weekend knowing you still have to work? I work on weekends and I basically hate every single day of the week.

Kyle: Oh I talked to Ron by the way

Kyle: nice cover story about the fever, Lloyd. I guess your smartass mouth can be of good use sometimes.

Me: yea well I’m a skilled liar. I’ve got a way with words.

Kyle: I know that.

Kyle: believe me, I know it.

Me: do you have painkillers?

Kyle: they don’t work. I’ve tried just about every kind there is to get in a drug store. They ...wear off after a while. All of them. You know?

Me: JEEZ I’M SO MAD

Kyle: don’t get any more worked up over it tonight. You said you had a headache and a stomach ache. Go get some rest. I’m going to try to sleep, myself.

Me: okay. Promise me you’re actually going to try.

Me: Kyle.

Me: Promise me.

Kyle: I promise.

Kyle: goodnight, Lloyd :)

Me: night, Davidson.

I know he isn’t going to keep his promise, but part of me is hoping he’ll at least try.

Strange as it feels, I have to admit having a genuine conversation with Kyle for the first time...

It felt... well...

Nice.