[13] The First Fight

(Kyle)

The school nurse sits at her desk, mindlessly spraying her computer screen with some sort of cleansing liquid in a spray bottle before wiping it with a piece of cloth. I don’t want to tell her what she’s doing wrong. Malory is lying on a bed right behind a blind board, and I’m sitting just where her feet are, observing how her chest inflates and deflates as the oxygen mask over her face works its magic. She’s asleep, but her eyes ever so often twitch. She’s asleep, but her fingers still tremble with anxiety. She’s asleep, but she’s not at ease. She’s not at peace.

I frown.

Olivia and Ron appear from the auditorium. Rehearsals have ended. Olivia stops short of a breath as she spots her best friend lying helplessly. “What happened?” she asks, worriedly.

“She blacked out after running,” I explain, unable to look anywhere but down at my own two hands.

“After you?” Ron asks.

I nod once and drop my head to stare at my feet.

“Oh no... She hasn’t had an asthma attack in ages...” Olivia trails off.

And I’m the reason she got this one. My vision blurs.

“I didn’t even know she had asthma,” I say. “I didn’t expect her to run after me, either.”

“Do you want me to stay with her?” Olivia asks, turning to me. “You and Ron can both head home... I know Ron’s mom would be concerned about him.” She turns to Ron. He shrugs. She turns back to Malory. “Should I let her mother know?”

Her mother...

“No,” I say, almost cutting her off.

“No?” She asks, taken aback.

I remain calm as I look at her. “Don’t tell her. She’s not here anyway. It’s no use making her worry. She’ll do everything in her power to rush all the way back here.” I turn to observe Malory. “Nurse Kelly already said she’ll be fine.”

“I don’t know...” Olivia says with uncertainty. A moment of silence passes before she continues. “Actually,” she goes into her bag to pull out her phone, “I’ll call my mom and tell her to come now. We should take Malory home. I’ll ask my mom if I can stay with her for a while. She’s got the medicine that she needs there –pills, inhalers, syrups, whatever. I know she does. It’s been stocked away for a while but I think they should still be good. If not, I’ll ask mom to stop off at a pharmacy and get new ones.”

I can’t believe I was so stupid. If something worse had happened to Malory –whether we’re cooperating or not, whether we’re friends or not -I wouldn’t be able to live with myself... and I’ve done much worse than cause someone to have an asthma attack.

Why do you worry me, Malory Lloyd?

God, it always comes back to this, doesn’t it?

“I did this,” I mutter to myself.

“No you didn’t. Don’t even think about it,” Ron scolds me.

“She’s lying on a bed with an oxygen mask unable to breathe, Ron,” I say, my voice raising before falling low. “Because of me. Because I didn’t want to stop...”

“Hi, mom...” Olivia says over the phone, “there’s been an incident.”

I suddenly process what she’s said. She’ll be going over to Malory’s place.

Will she stay with her for the night?

Will Malory be okay?

Maybe I should stay with them.

Just until she’s better.

Just until I know for sure that she’s okay.

But she might be mad at me...

I should go…

Or maybe I’d make things worse…

But I want to.

I want to go.

What do I have to lose, anyway? Ace isn’t here right now.

He’s not here.

“Wait,” I say to Olivia. She turns to me. “Can I... come too?”

She goes back to her conversation without replying as she explains the situation to her mom. She waits for a reply before giving me a thumbs-up.

I nod and squeeze my lips together, turning back to Malory.

It’s funny, somehow, that I’ve never looked at Malory for what she is– simply a girl. She’s always been tough and strong-willed. She’s always been outgoing. She’s always been a fighter.

Looking at her now I don’t see the same person. I don’t see the Malory Lloyd I know.

And maybe it’s my fault that I never looked at what laid behind the surface; her anxiety and the reasons she always keeps herself busy. Maybe it’s my fault I never really cared about those things.

There’s also the fact that we’d never really gotten along. Not from the start. I’d tried to make up for the first time I’d ever done her wrong –but she always pushed my apology away. Things just escalated from there.

Ron puts a hand on my shoulder. His phone rings. He answers it and stays on the line for a few moments before hanging up.

“I gotta go,” he says, glancing between Olivia and I. “Keep me updated?”

Olivia nods. “Okay. Get home safely.”

***

Olivia gets out of the front seat to open the back door where Malory is lying with her head on my lap. She’s fast asleep, thankfully able to breathe on her own. Olivia gently pulls Malory up a bit so I can get out of the car. Then she rests her head back onto the seat while I reach other to the other side of the vehicle and take her out.

Never in a million years would I ever have thought I’d be holding Malory Lloyd bridal style and taking her into her house while she’s asleep. Never in a million years would I have ever believed I would feel comfortable doing it, either. Something about having her this close makes me feel as though she’s protected. Something about having her this close makes me feel like I want to continue protecting her.

Olivia unzips Malory’s bag and takes out the house keys, rushing over to the front door and opening it so I can take Malory inside.

Malory’s house seems plain from the outside –with its pale blue paint and circular stone tiles leading up to the door. There are flowers growing on each side of the pathway –a variety of species- and I realise that Malory does way more than people care to notice. Who else would take care of the flowers while her mom is away? It makes me admire her ambition even more. These little things add up and make her more herself.

We walk in and there’s the faint scent of lavender tickling my nose. Her house is neat. I suppose since her mother’s away and there’s no one else living here, she’s not one to have a big mess anyway. The shelves are neatly stacked, the floor is clean, there’s nothing on the table but a jar of flowers that I’m certain were picked from the garden outside.

“Where do I put her?” I ask.

Olivia points towards the staircase, “Her bedroom’s upstairs. She’s got all the stuff she’ll ever need in there. The medicine is on her drawer. Let’s go,” she says, beginning to walk off, “I’ll open the door.”

I follow her up the stairs and around a bend and she opens a door that leads us right into Malory’s bedroom. She turns on the light –even though everything was still clearly visible in the passing evening. It’s everything I expected it to be for a girl like Malory. The walls, furniture, décor… everything was a standard shade of black or white. There were some greys in between and some shades of blue, too . I spot her bed, and I walk over to it to rest her gently on the mattress. She’s got a blanket just like mine, I notice; a giant, fluffy, grey one. She shifts when she realises where she is.

Yes.

She finally moves.

She forces her eyes open, blinking a few times and squinting at the light.

“K-Kyle? Olive?” She manages to say.

I look down at her and frown as she acknowledges me. I turn away just as Olivia rushes to stop beside the bed to talk to her.

“Thank God, you’re okay...” Olivia says.

I’m facing the door.

Now that Malory is awake, I’m afraid of what might happen. I know that she’s probably going to be upset about what happened. I know she’ll feel frustrated with me around.

I just wanted to know that she was home safely. I just wanted to know that she would wake up okay. It doesn’t seem like I have any other excuse to remain here, though, so maybe it’s time I leave.

I stare at the open door. I shove my hands into my pockets to stop myself from gripping my hair in frustration at my own inner conflicts. I take a step forward when-

“-Wait...” Malory stops me.

I freeze. I don’t turn to look at her. I don’t budge at all.

“Kyle... will you stay?”

My brows lift slightly. My eyes widen at her words.

She wants me to stay?

Her voice is soft and pleading and weak as she says it, and something inside me is thankful that she’s asked.

I inhale deeply and turn to her.

“Please?” she asks, in a whisper.

I turn to Olivia –who’s looking at me in some sort of sorrowful anticipation. She doesn’t know what to think or say. I don’t know what to think or say. Malory surprised us both. I exhale roughly, stepping forward and stooping beside her as she rests on the bed –almost immobile, save for a few subtle shifts.

“Okay,” I whisper.

She offers me a small smile before her eyes slowly shut. I look at her for a moment –or two –maybe three –and then I take the folded grey blanket from beside her and I drape it over her so she’s warm.

An hour passes. Olivia and I have found things to do while we wait around in Malory’s room for who knows what; For Malory to wake up and yell at me –for Malory to tell Olivia I’m an absolute idiot again –for Malory to explain why she wanted me to stay.

I’m sitting on the floor in front of her bookshelf, skimming through a book about the Europe in the 1800s. Maybe some reading would do me some good for this dumb play. It’s not that I can’t act –I can. It’s just… they can’t know that. I can’t let them know that.

Olivia is reading a magazine she found on Malory’s desk.

I’ve thoroughly observed what Malory’s room is made up of, and I’m done skimming through the book. I look up at Malory –still asleep.

There’s a knock on the open door, and Olivia and I turn to find Mrs Prescott standing with her arms folded and a gentle expression on her face. She leans against the door frame.

“Is she okay?” she asks.

“Yea. She’ll be fine,” Olivia confirms.

“It’s almost seven, Olive. Are you going to the youth meeting tonight, or will you skip church this once?”

Seriously?

Her best friend almost fucking died.

I can see Olivia contemplating over the idea. She walks over to Malory’s drawer and pulls out two inhalers. She checks the expiry dates and realises that they’re still useable. She walks over to me and opens my hand, putting them both in it. My eyes fix on the objects, my hands closing around them. A worried expression covers my face. Olivia knows I’m concerned about what she’s doing –about what I’m supposed to do. She gives me a comforting smile.

“I don’t need to stay,” she says, softly, reassuringly. “She’ll be fine with you.”

I want to reply but I can’t form words and I don’t know how to respond to that, anyway. Olivia turns to her friend and sighs.

“The rest of her medicine is on the top of the drawer,” she informs me. “If she needs anything, just look for it, okay?” She turns to look me in the eyes. “I trust you, Kyle.” She turns to her mom and begins walking towards her. “We should go. It is getting late.”

Mrs Prescott watches as Olivia makes her way downstairs, but she stays at the door frame for a few moments. I don’t turn to look at her. Instead, I’m staring at the inhalers in my hand. I frown.

I’m worried I’ll mess up again.

I’m worried Malory will wake up just to have another headache because of me.

I’m worried about being here alone with her.

I’m worried.

***

“I’m sorry,” she says, softly.

My head shoots towards her. I’m relieved that she’s finally awake. She’s looking down at me as I sit fidgeting with my fingers on the floor.

It’s been approximately an hour and a half since Olivia left with her mom.

“You’re up!” I eagerly acknowledge.

She slows her way into a sitting position on her bed. I get my butt off the ground and walk towards her. She’s sitting now, and I stoop just in front of her –becoming so short that I have to look up a bit for my eyes to meet with hers. She smiles at me, and it’s a comforting, genuine smile that I can’t help but return. She slams her hand down on the empty space beside her on the bed. I move to sit beside her. There’s a comfortable silence between us for a moment.

My smile fades. I drop my head. “I’m the one who should be sorry,” I say.

She looks out of the open door ahead. “This wasn’t your fault.”

But it was.

It was my fault.

Suddenly I remember how Adrien had seen my bruise. I remember how I had run off to the back of the bleachers to break down. I remember how frightened I’d gotten when I felt my body overwhelming with anxiety I couldn’t control. I remember how hard I tried to pull myself out of a panic attack right there. I’d stayed behind the bleachers until school had ended and I was sure that everyone had left. Then I went home.

I frown.

“You should have told me,” Malory says. She turns to me, worriedly. “The minute after it happened, Kyle, you should have told me.”

“I thought he would’ve sold me out.”

“I’m wondering why he didn’t,” she says, her tone filled with suspicion.

“I’m wondering why of all the people in the school, the new kid –the transfer student –the jock –Mr Prick Perfect- had to choose to get close to you,” I say.

She turns to me, offended. “Do you honestly think I’m so inferior that I’m not worthy of the hot guys noticing me? I did date a hot guy or two before, if you didn’t know.”

I scoff. “Oh, I know. All the seniors know. In fact maybe even the younger kids, too.”

“Your point?” she asks me, sarcastically.

You don’t deserve to be treated like a trophy, Lloyd.

You don’t deserve to have a guy tell the whole world about you only to say you’re just not polished and worth showing off anymore.

You’re smart but don’t let someone play with your heart like that.

Some things need to be protected more than others –one of those is the heart.

“You’re too good for that.”

I immediately regret saying that.

I immediately regret saying it.

When I get home the first thing I’m going to do is boil these lips of mine so I stop speaking like an idiot around Malory Lloyd.

I seriously gotta get my act together.

Malory blinks at me three times. “What?”

I’m desperate to change the topic. I don’t want to talk about this. I don’t want to say what I’m thinking.

But I can’t ignore my own conscience, can I?

“Can we stop this?” I ask her.

She raises a brow. “What are you talking about?”

That’s it, I guess.

I think I’m finally tired of it all.

I turn to her. “The fighting. I don’t want to fight with you. Not anymore.”

“I don’t either, Kyle. I don’t think I ever did. But you started it.”

I don’t remember it being that way at all.

“Did I?” I ask, uncertain. “Did I really?”

To sit and think through all the terrible shit we’ve done to each other would probably be like writing a history book. We’d be gathering facts and piling them into one piece. It doesn’t sound like much fun, in my opinion.

“Don’t say that like you don’t remember the first time we ever fought,” she says to me with a pointed look.

Oh, there’s no way I could forget that.

I laugh and turn to her. “How could I forget? You tripped over my new shoes at our first April Fest and then cursed me out of this world for ripping the end of that horrible blue dress.”

“You purposely tripped me, you oaf,” she says with a glare.

“I did not!” I say, genuinely surprised.

The truth of it is that the first fight we ever had wasn’t really a fight. It was a huge misunderstanding.

Suspicious, she attempts to pry me open for answers. “Oh? Then explain why you had the entire male population of our freshman year –inclusive of Olivia and my cousins and my crush laughing so hard at me they literally all started crying –not to mention you almost broke through the floor from laughing so hard and stamping around like an insane horse. Do you know how embarrassing it was for me? I’d made that dress myself... and when I tripped, half the skirt ripped from the end of it to my butt and I had nothing to hide the rip with. No jacket, no nothing. But no, you were laughing. You definitely did it on purpose.”

You... made the dress yourself...?

I stifle a laugh at the thought of Malory being embarrassed. Back then, what happened was really funny, but it’ not so funny now that I know her side of the story. Doesn’t make me want to laugh any less imagining Malory Lloyd with an embarrassed face as red as the punch that fell on her that night, though.

“I can’t say it wasn’t funny watching you struggle that night, Lloyd. It was hilarious.” I burst out laughing. I can’t help myself. She hits me on my shoulder and looks away, uneasy. “And you were such an odd duckling back then,” I continue. “You were always bumping into things or people. You were always wearing some massive T shirt and this one pair of converse –every single day. It was funny to look at just how sad your life seemed to be back then.” I sigh, grinning.

Her tone is one of disbelief, and she begins her rant on a whisper but it gradually increases in volume the more upset she becomes. “You really don’t know anything about me, do you Davidson? You don’t know that I had to stay up late at night to work and wake up early to do more work just to help my mom from going insane. You don’t know that my dad was a troublemaker and we relied only on my mother’s wage to survive. You don’t know that even though my family was crap I loved my dad to death... you don’t know that I’ve had to fight to get to where I am.” She forces a sarcastic laugh and turns away from me. “You don’t know that I do as many things as I can to keep myself out of having alone time because when I’m alone I remember bad things about my past. You don’t know about the slump I’ve been in.” She lowers her head, laughing again, heavy tears rolling down her cheeks. “I bet you didn’t know about that.”

I don’t like it when she does that. I don’t like it when she laughs but she’s crying. That’s not the Malory I know. It’s not the Malory I’m used to. It’s not the Malory I want to see. That’s just not Malory.

I feel like an asshole realising how much I’d spoken to hurt her without even realising it.

Forget boiling your lips –you’re bleaching them, instead.

How could I have been so careless with this girl?

“Maybe...” I say, as I recall her saying it, “Maybe we both just... never really thought of each other as people.”

She looks at me, bewildered. I scoff and laugh, softly. She wipes a tear from her eye and sniffles, smiling back.

There she is. The Malory I know.