The Return [6]

(Kyle)

I fix my bag straps over my shoulders and clear my throat, not deliberate in my steps towards her, but still moving forward.

She looks annoyed –worried –relieved.

She finally stops just a few feet in front of me, huffing out a breath and bending forward, pushing me backwards with a hand.

“You,” she says, slightly out of breath. She regains her posture to look up at me, and she’s no longer worried. “What the hell happened to your face this time?” she asks, upset.

Behind her, Ron and Olivia turn in the distance to see me. They start walking over. I turn back to Malory. She raises a brow, still waiting for my reply.

“Nothing,” I say. “Forget about it.”

She punches me on my arm –and she does it with an impact great enough that I know she’s serious. “Nothing,” she spits, “it’s always nothing.” She hits me again. “Don’t” –she hits- “you know,” –she hits again, “how worried,” –another hit- “I was about you?” –Hit –hit –hit -all on the same arm.

“Ouch,” I say, slowly and calmly. “Who are you? Muhammad Ali?”

She sends a fist right at my chest and I hear the thump as it makes the impact. She sends her next fist at my chest and I listen to the impact again. “I hate you!” she says, “I hate you! I hate you!”

I don’t budge. I let her hit me. I kinda deserve it.

“I should trip you and throw a ton of bricks right over you,” she says. “I should throw you into a swimming pool and cover it with an iron sheet.”

“Whoa, Malory, take it easy,” Ron says, reaching behind her. He gasps. “Dude, what the hell happened to your face?”

“Is that why you went M.I.A again?” Olivia asks, suspicious.

“He smoked a roll of stupid and didn’t exhale is what,” Malory says, spitefully. She looks up at me, frustrated. “What’s wrong with you?”

“What happened?” Ron asks.

“Yea,” Olivia says, “What’s going on?”

I feel claustrophobic.

“I’m fine!” I almost yell. “A burst lip isn’t going to kill me.”

“Yea,” Malory says. “But me gripping your hair and banging your head repeatedly against the lockers might.”

“Why the hell do you care what happens to me, Malory?” I ask her.

Suddenly everyone has gone silent.

Malory huffs a breath –and I realise maybe I shouldn’t have asked that question. If she were to say what was on her mind she might reveal what she knows about my uncle to Ron and Olivia. I feel stupid.

Instead, Malory grips at my two arms and shakes me aggressively. “Because we care about you, asshole! First it was a big-ass bruise and now it’s a bleeding lip! –Again! And you disappear all of a sudden and then reappear out of thin air like nothing happened! Who even are you anymore?” And with that, her voice goes low. “I thought we were friends? Is that how you treat your friends? Is that how you treat Ron?” She asks, gesturing to him. “You just do whatever you want and don’t tell anyone what’s going on?”

I feel guilty.

“This play is supposed to help us get along,” she says, and she doesn’t sound angry anymore. “But it’s like ever since this term started you just haven’t been the same at all. You’re missing more school. You’re closed off. You’re getting beaten up. What the hell is going on, Kyle?”

That’s it.

“I can’t fucking tell you, Malory! I got into a fight. I got beaten up. So what? I’m not the only guy in senior year that gets into fights. I’m not the only guy who stays away from school! Give it a rest!”

There’s a tense silence in the locker hallway.

“Mal...” Ron says, staring at me, “Just leave him. He always does this to me. Why would he do any different to anyone else?” He swallows hard.

Olivia pulls at Malory’s arm but she shoves her off. Malory doesn’t take her eyes off of me. Her grey eyes have gone glassy with welling tears and the slight bit of blue is starting to show up –just like the last time I saw her cry.

“No, Olive,” she says, as Olivia tries to pull her away again. “I need to make this loud and clear to this jackass.” She stares right at me. “People care about you –whether you like it or not –whether you accept it or not –whether you want it or not. People want the best for you. People look out for you. People try their hardest even when you’re standing on their last nerve. You know what, Davidson? I don’t care what you think. I still think you’re my friend and I still think that friends are always supposed to be there for each other. Whether you decide that you want to get along with me or not is your business, but I’m going to keep nagging you for answers.

“I don’t treat you like I used to for a reason. I don’t see why I’d need to treat you like that anymore. I was right all along. You’re pathetic, and you live a pathetic life. You’re covering up all this bullshit with good grades and an excellent reputation or whatever, but you’re not hiding anything from me.”

She turns and lets out a long shaky breath, walking off. Olivia and Ron watch her leave. They look back at me. They say nothing. They follow behind her.

People care about you...

People look out for you...

Don’t you know how worried I was about you?

Damn you, Malory Lloyd.

Why did my heart start beating faster?

Why did my breathing get heavy hearing those things from you?

How could you?

How could you say those things without knowing what they mean to me?

You’re really something, Lloyd.