[9] An Aiding Shadow

(Kyle)

I’m awakened by the sound of my message tone. My skin is stained with tear streaks and glittering with white salt grains. I lazily reach over for my phone and sit up. It’s almost four in the afternoon. I check the message. It’s from Lloyd.

Lloyd: Is your uncle there right now?

Me: Why?

Lloyd: Is he?

Me: no, you nagging nun

Lloyd: Where is he?

Me: gone.

Me: Will be gone for some time.

Lloyd: Two weeks. I know.

Me: who even told you that?

Lloyd: who do you think?

How did she even get that informa-

Ron.

Me: that... little... -_-

Lloyd: get dressed

Me: What?

Me: Why?

Lloyd: I’m taking you to a doctor

Me: I’m fine, Lloyd. Bruises heal. I won’t die from this.

Lloyd: just shut up get dressed, Davidson

Just shut up and get a life, Lloyd.

Lloyd: I’m right outside the compound.

Me: WHAT?

Lloyd: omg the guard remembered me, I feel so special :O

LLOYD, YOU INSANE IGNORANT IDIOT WITH AN IQ OF 2

Me: YOU’RE ALREADY WALKING IN?

Lloyd: Tick Tock, buddy. House #2...

I immediately call her. She answers almost instantaneously.

“La da deee da deee, House number threeeeee...” she sings in an annoyingly jolly voice.

“I SAID I’M FINE!” I yell. “What’s it gonna take for you to leave me alone?”

“Come to see the doctor,” she says, “I told Bev you were sick. She said you can’t show up without a doctor’s note. Do you really think I’d put all this effort in for you out of nowhere? Come on, Davidson, you’re smarter than that.”

“You...”

“Mhm?”

“...told the principal...”

“That you were sick,” she finishes for me.

“Wow.”

I don’t even know what to say to that. This blinded bigot, this ridiculous rebel, this invidious individual... is helping me?

She’s doing this for the answers. She must be.

“Yes, you’re welcome,” she says.

Fine. I’ll play along.

“Okay,” I say.

“House number four,” she beams.

I suck in a breath, “LLOYD, I AM NOT LEAVING THE HOUSE LOOKING LIKE THIS!”

She scoffs. “I’m not an idiot, idiot. I won’t let you leave the house with a purple face. I have a plan. Just get dressed.”

“You’re insane.”

I hang up. I stare at my phone for a moment as the call ends and the screen goes back to our messages. I click the home button and wait fifteen seconds before my phone sleeps. I throw the phone at my bed.

What the hell is she doing? Why is she coming here? Why am I panicking?

I look at myself in the mirror. The bruise and cuts can only cause me to feel nauseous the longer I look at them. I study my creased, rumpled clothes. I notice my salt-stained face. I think about Malory and how fast she’s probably walking.

Damn it, Lloyd.

Damn you, Lloyd.

I can’t believe I’m doing this.

I shuffle through my drawers for a fresh pair of jeans. I slip into them quickly and throw on a new T-shirt. I stand in front of the mirror again, observing the bruise. I close my eyes and sigh.

I cannot believe this.

She’s insane.

What’s her plan and how good could it possibly be?

I open my eyes and begin to fix my hair. It’s all over the place –messy, strands sticking out at all edges, a perfect bed head. I smooth it out with a comb and cover my face. I’m getting sick and tired of my hair at this point, but I just knew keeping it long was going to do me some good eventually. I was right.

I realise, then, that even without the bruise being visible behind my hair, my lips are still slightly swollen. I gently touch them. They’re sore. I begin pacing the floor of my room. I hurry to my bathroom and wash my face. My skin stings the more my hands run against it –even as gently as I’m trying to be with the motions. I groan but I don’t give up. I finish, switching off the light in both the bathroom and the bedroom as I leave. I hurry to the security room. I drop into the chair, staring at the monitors... watching...waiting. Minutes pass, and Malory appears on the screen.

I stand immediately.

She really showed up. She wasn’t fibbing.

Did she eat a bad egg or do I really need to make her an appointment with a psychiatrist because either way she’s completely off her rockers.

“She’s actually insane,” I mutter as I hurry down the staircase.

The doorbell rings, and I’m already at the front door. I run to the automatic gate, open it, and pull her inside, taking her straight into the house.

“Do you know how dangerous it is for you to be coming here?” I argue. “You don’t, do you? All it takes is my uncle asking that guard one simple question. ‘Did we have any visitors?’ All it takes is one wrong move on my part in erasing the security footage with you in it and both you and I are as good as dead. You’re genuinely stupid, aren’t you?”

“Yet here you are,” she says, victoriously, “all dressed.”

“I’m not going to be the one to underestimate you, Lloyd.”

“Good,” she says. She studies the room. “Now where’s the living room –or the room with the best lighting?”

The... The what? The room with the best... lighting?

“Why?”

She reaches into her signature black, skull printed schoolbag and pulls out a clear kit with...

MAKEUP!?

“This is your ticket out of here,” she informs me.

I raise a brow, baffled, hesitant, amused.

“Makeup?” I ask, scoffing. “Do I look like a drag queen to you?”

She scrunches her face, “Well...”

“Shut up.”

If she thinks she can use this to make me look like a fool in front of others, I might as well kill her now.

“Look,” she says, “are you doing this or not? Kyle,” She drops her hand with the kit to her side, “you missed two weeks of work, and you need a good excuse to give to Bev -for your regular absence and for the play. This is a valid excuse. The doctor’s note doesn’t need to have all the details. I feel like Bev doesn’t even care as much about what it says. She just wants to know there actually is one so she can confirm I wasn’t lying about you being sick. Let’s just get it and get this whole thing over with.”

I just... still don’t understand why you’re being... nice... to me, Lloyd.

I listen and process very carefully all that she’s said. Her beautifully exotic grey eyes are nothing but determined. I frown.

“Malory.”

“What?” she asks, worried.

I squint at her in suspicion. “Why are you doing this?”

“Because, nitwit,” she answers, “you’re worth at least half my good record.”

I drop my head and break the eye contact.

Right. Of course. That makes total sense.

Except the thing is, Lloyd... if you went missing for two weeks, given our history, I wouldn’t have risked my life searching for you.

I shake my head and scoff, bursting out into a humourless laugh.

“You sought out my house to find me, asked my best friend for my number, found out about my uncle’s work schedule, discovered I’ve been abused until I turned purple, and you’re ignoring all of that just for your grade? Wow, you’re diligent. And an idiot. And apparently very inconsiderate.”

Her voice goes soft. “What do you want me to say, Kyle? Do you want me to tell everyone about this? To sell you out? TO get your uncle into trouble? I’m not that kind of person.”

Not that kind of person.

But you can insult me without hesitation; without needing a second to think about what you’re going to say; without knowing that I hear the worst words from the people I have no choice but to be around the most.

You’re the kind of person who can fight until you knock someone out but you don’t know how hard I have to fight to not black out sometimes.

You’re the kind of person who is smart and sticks to schedules, but what are you hiding behind that willpower, determination or strength?

There’s something behind all of that, too. Isn’t there? There’s a reason you do everything that you do.

“And just what kind of a person are you, Malory Lloyd?”

“I’m... just a shadow,” she says. “An aiding shadow. I’m around in darkness, and I disappear with light.” She sighs. “I’m trying to help, okay? This... isn’t right. This is abuse, Kyle. Why haven’t you reported it? Why haven’t you gotten yourself out of this situation?”

I turn away, scoffing, shaking my head.

It’s not as easy as you imagine, Malory Lloyd.

She rests a hand on my shoulder. I tense up at the feeling. “You can trust me.”

As if!

“I don’t trust you.”

She drops her hand. “Why can’t you?” Tears well up in her eyes, and though it’s not the first time I’ve seen her cry, it’s the first time I’m noticing just how glassy her eyes get when she does. The grey is no longer there, but in its place, a very pale blue. “What hurt you so bad that you can’t trust someone when they’re genuinely being kind? Why can’t you trust even your own best friend? I have so many questions.”

I don’t know what to say. I don’t know why she’s suddenly all emotional over my problems. It’s none of her business.

I decide to change the topic. She wants to put makeup on me and take me to a doctor to get an excuse for school? Fine. We’ll do that. I’m not answering any of those questions.

“The living room is that way,” I say, pointing to the left. She follows my finger. “It’s one of the brightest rooms in the house. Follow me.”

I stroll towards the living room and leave her standing behind but I can hear her falling into step behind me.

***

(Malory)

As I seat him on the leather couch of the living room, his face lit by the bright light above, I concentrate on my project. “I need to clip your hair away from your face so I can get the makeup everywhere it needs to be,” I tell him, digging through my kit for some clips.

“I can’t remember the last time my hair was out of my face –in front of anyone,” he says. “Usually the only time it’s hidden away is when I’m swimming.”

I find some black clips and raise them for him to see. I smile toothily and he rolls his eyes. I carry my hands towards his face... but I don’t know why I feel as though if I touch him he’ll explode.

“Um... It’s okay if I touch your face, right?” I ask.

“Go ahead,” he says, unbothered. “Unless you’re going to hurt me. My face stings. If you’re not going to be careful then just forget it.”

I push the hair from the right side of his face upwards and clip it away. I do the same for the left side –with careful consideration of the bruise. I study the marks. They seem to be different –worse- every time I see them. I wince, feeling awful.

He forces a smile that slightly stretches his swollen lips. “I know... it’s... I know.”

I search my makeup kit for a concealer and squeeze some onto my finger. I near it to his face. “I’ll be gentle, I promise.”

I apply it generously, smoothing it over his skin and being extra careful around the bruised areas.

At some point during the makeup process, I realise how close my face is to Kyle’s. He’s staring at me, and I’m focusing on his face, completely aware of his gaze and refusing to look into his eyes.

I back away and take his slightly-trembling hand. It’s warm... and it stops shaking when I touch it. I stare at his fingertips and how they tremble for a moment. I realise that Kyle might notice that I’m observing these things, so I move my fingers upward to hold his wrist. I spray some foundation to match it with his skin tone. I can feel Kyle’s eyes on me as I struggle to focus on the task. I dig through my cosmetic products again to find another foundation that might be more suited for his skin.

I glance at Kyle for literally a nanosecond and realise that he’s wearing a small smile -a genuine one. I immediately focus my eyes back on his wrist and spray the next foundation.

“How do you girls even find the time to learn all of this? Especially girls like you.”

Girls like me?

“What’s that supposed to mean? I’m not a baboon,” I assure him.

He scoffs. “You aren’t?”

I turn to him pointedly. “You’re lucky I’d feel guilty if I slap you right now.” I go back to the foundation matching.

“What I mean is you’re... a very busy person. You do a lot of extracurricular activities. Plus, you top your class, you lead groups, you’re probably going to be valedictorian for our graduation ceremony next year, too.”

That’s funny, but I’m still tying at first place in class with Daniel Holden. He’s been trying to steal my spot.

“If Holden doesn’t give me a run for it, that is,” I say. “What’s your point?”

“I thought,” he hesitates, “I guess I just thought that because you’re so active in all these groups and extra activities... that you never really had time... you know... for yourself.” I pause, understanding him. “That’s all.” he finishes.

I never thought he’d say something like that. A part of me always knew there was more to him than meets the eye, but I always try to ignore that. Something tells me it’s going to get increasingly harder to ignore that voice in my head the more I interact with Kyle.

I look down into my makeup kit and find a cotton swab, picking it up and dipping it into the foundation –which matches his skin better than the first one.

“Maybe you and I just... never really thought of each other as people.”

“Maybe,” he agrees.

I carry the foundation-soaked cotton swab to his face. “I’ll be as gentle as possible. I promise.” I start applying it to his face. To stop myself from looking at him and thinking about our closeness, I try to speak to stay on a general topic. “The concealer will do a good job of hiding the marks. The foundation will make it look like nothing happened. Then I’ll put some powder and make you look a little less like the undead. You should be good to go after that.”

“All of this just to pass the guard?” He asks.

“You do know where the medical centre is, right?” I ask him. “It’s a little way from here. We’ll need to take a taxi. A lot more people are going to see you than just him. Close your eyes.”

He shuts his eyes as I continue to apply the makeup.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this but... I’m starting to see some of that actual brain of yours at work,” he says.

Stupid.

“Did something happen to your arm, too?” I ask, worried.

“No, why?”

I hit him.

He cries out, startled.

I smirk.

A comfortable silence falls between us. I add powder and then some colour to his face to make him look a little less like a ghost, but not pretty enough to look like he actually has makeup on.

“When we get to the doctor’s office, you’ll have to remove all this because you’re actually going to get this checked out and we’re getting you some medicine for it.”

“What about when I have to come back to the compound?”

“We’ll figure it out. Depending on if the doctor puts medicine on your face or not, I’ll know if to redo the makeup or if we’ll have to get some other kind of disguise.” I finish the makeup. “Okay, look at me.”

He fixes his bewildering cognac eyes on mine and I study his face. I try not to feel intimidated by him as he watches me. I try to focus. I can feel myself failing.

This is Kyle Davidson. I keep reminding myself. Whatever other thoughts you’re thinking about him, cease immediately.

“Are you finally done?”

“Finally.” I fix all my supplies back into my kit and I stand. “Oookay let’s get movin-”

-He grabs my hand. Startled, I turn slightly to look down at him. He’s focuses his eyes on lamp resting on a desk near the opposite end of the room, his blank expression going soft. He doesn’t look at me at all as he whispers.

“Thanks.”

I turn away, surprised. I gently squeeze his hand. “No problem...” I clear my throat. “Now let’s go. I won’t have you sweating my makeup into a face cake. Not today, not ever.”

***

(Malory)

We approach the guard booth.

“Evening, Clark!” Kyle greets the guard.

“Good evening, Kyle, and to you too, Miss...”

Oh no...

No I didn’t tell him my name...

Fake names... Fake names...

“Grace,” I say, offering him a smile. Kyle and I share a brief side eye before he turns back to Clark.

“Grace,” Clark says, “Lovely to see you again. How are you, Kyle? Haven’t seen you out and about recently.”

“I’ve been sick,” Kyle laughs. “Grace here,” he pulls me spontaneously towards him and I don’t struggle but I go wide-eyed for a moment, “well, she rushed over when she heard. Helped me out a bit.”

Kyle Davidson... Let go of me!

What do you think you’re doing?

“Well, it’s good to see you moving around again,” Clark says, sounding genuine. “Be safe. Both of you.”

He opens the gate for us and we step out.

“Yea, have a safe one, Clark. I’ll see you later,” Kyle says to him at last.

We walk out of the gate and Kyle is still holding me by my waist. We walk until we’re out of sight.

Kyle bursts out laughing and it surprises me to see him so at ease. “He didn’t even see the bruise! Lloyd... it’s official. Your makeup works wonders.”

I finally pull away from him.

“Hey!” He protests.

“That was not necessary, Davidson.”

He smirks, smugly. “We’re going to have to act like that if we’re doing the play, Lloyd. It was just practice.”

“Practice, my ass!” I shudder, “Stay the hell away from me.”

We continue walking towards the taxi stand, and in the back of my mind there’s a faint feeling of something missing –warmth; where Kyle’s hand had been.

***

(Kyle)

We exit the medical centre after my appointment and walk out to the main road. It’s after six and the light of the sun is quickly dimming. I stand next to a streetlight that turns on as the darkness sets in.

I notice that Malory has gone dim, herself. The air becomes awkward. Silent.

“Well, I’ll... see you around, then,” she says.

I turn to her, confused. “Where are you going?”

“I have to get home before it gets too dark,” she insists. “My house is the other way, dummy.”

“Your mom didn’t drop you to the compound?” I ask.

“She’s not here,” is all Malory says.

“Not... here? Where?” I inquire.

“She’s in China.”

China?

China!?

As in halfway across the world, China!?

“She’s... what? So you travelled to the compound?” I ask, slightly distressed.

She rolls her eyes. “No, Davidson, I flew.”

I drop my hand –the one holding the bag of medicine- to my side and look at her. “Who’s waiting for you at home, then? Your grandmother or something?”

“No, Kyle!” She says, irritated. “I’m there alone, okay?! So I’m...” she calms down. “I’m going to get home because I didn’t leave any lights on. I wasn’t planning on staying out here with you this late.”

She’s there alone.

Just like me.

We’re both alone.

I’ve got to snap out of it. There are bigger problems to worry about than the ways in which we are similar. Malory cannot return to the house.

Ace cannot find out about her.

Nobody can know that she stays at home alone while her mother is gone.

This is bad.

I frown. She folds her arms. I try to speak as carefully as possible. “I’m sorry... I didn’t mean to upset you... I just...” She looks at me. My eyes lock onto hers. “I didn’t know.”

She releases some of the tension from her face and unfolds her arms slowly. “I know. You didn’t know. It’s fine. Get home safely, okay?”

She turns, walking quickly into the other direction where she will be sure to find a taxi heading in the direction of her house.

I wish there was some way I could be sure she was safe.

I can’t believe I didn’t know about this sooner.

This makes everything even worse!

Suddenly I’m shaking, and I feel cold. Malory is alone. Her mom is in China. Her dad is dead.

There’s so much I didn’t know.

And worse yet...

She doesn’t know what I know.

I bite my sensitive lip slightly and furrow my brows, sighing in frustration as I watch her disappear around a corner.

Damn it, Lloyd.