Daryl Dixon, once again, was storming out of class. It was so pointless, being in high school. Everyone thought he was some stupid, redneck asshole. In reality, he really just sat in the janitor's closet all day reading Shakespeare, hiding from his peers.
In fact, he was headed there now. Daryl clenched his fists as he thought of what was waiting for him at home: a beating from going to school in the first place, as well as a teasing session for walking out like a pussy.
Quit yer whining Darylina. So what some preppy jock said ya couldn't pass high school if yer life depended on it. It's not like ya need to graduate anyway. "Shut up Merle," he mumbled to himself.
He gratefully took in the sight of the all too familiar wooden door. He threw the door open and came face to face with something he didn't know what the hell to do about. It was a girl with huge sunglasses that practically took up her whole face. She was wearing old jeans, tennis shoes, and a Bon Jovi concert sweatshirt that looked as if it had seen better days.
Her blonde hair fell in tangled tresses across her shoulders. Great, another sob story about a boyfriend. Save the private spaces for the people who have real problems, he thought. He cleared his throat rather loudly, getting her attention. She glanced up at him.
Crimson suddenly took hostage to every part of her face. "I-I'm so sorry. I had no idea this was your spot." Her voice was soft, timid, and slightly melodious. He hated her at once. "Don't care. Whatever yer crying abouts probably stupid anyway." She made no comment or attempt to move.
"People probably care when you cry."
Why hadn't he booted her out already? He didn't expect her to reply when she did.
"They don't."
She stood up and brushed off imaginary dust on her jeans. Just as she headed down the hallway, he called, "Why do ya wear those sunglasses? Ya blind?" She turned back to him and smiled bitterly. "I wish I was." Daryl stepped into the closet and closed the door behind him. As he sat down he suddenly realized he had an itching feeling to find out what was wrong with that girl. After all, what was worse than being blind?
It was about a day later. Daryl was sitting out in the courtyard with his lunch, not really interested in eating. It was then that he noticed, or rather heard, the door to the courtyard opening. He looked up and to his surprise he saw Sunglasses Girl from the other day. She had a small paper bag and huge book in her hands.
She walked over to the old oak tree that hung over one of the tables. She sat underneath it's shady limbs and pulled out her giant book. He decided, with some phantom determination he hadn't ever been blessed with before, that he would go ask her about her book.
He grabbed his uneaten lunch and plopped down next to her. "Whatcha reading?" She looked up at him, but her facial expression was lost behind those damn sunglasses. "A book," she replied demurely.
He grunted. "Don't be a smartass." She glanced up at him, her mouth drawn together in a serious line. "Don't pretend like you care." He snorted. "I just asked ya a question girl. No need to get defensive." She sighed and turned the book over.
He was surprised, and secretly delighted, to see in worn golden scrawl The Complete Works of Shakespeare. "It any good?" She nodded slowly. "I would have finished it by now, but I keep coming back to A Midsummer's Night Dream." Daryl was surprised. That was one of his least favorites.
"Why?" "Well, the fairy loves a creepy looking donkey guy." Daryl wanted to say he'd read it before and that he wasn't stupid, but something told him that would just drive her away. He kept his mouth shut.
"And the thing is, she never once cared how he looked. She still loved him, even with his buck teeth and hooves." Daryl was a little puzzled. "And why do you like that?" He noticed her stiffen a little bit. To his odd dismay, the bell rang.
She probably saw it as an escape.
All he saw was a missed opportunity.
He thought she wouldn't answer his question when she did. "I'm just another creepy donkey waiting for a fairy of my own." She then got up and walked off, leaving him with an odd feeling in his chest.
Daryl had been using his closet less and less. If the teachers asked him, he'd standardly reply it was because he was controlling himself better. If someone who he trusted, which was no one, he would say it was because he knew she was using it.
He saw her run down the hallways at least twice a week. He'd felt like confronting her about the problem, but it was none of his damn business. And it wasn't like he didn't have any chances to ask either. They sat together every day at lunch, mostly in silence.
Daryl felt as if they were just two lonely high school souls wandering through cinder block halls, taking comfort in the only other one who was like them. One day, however, she was late. He decided to go inside to look for her. He didn't have to look far.
She was surrounded by a gaggle of girls, all of whom were taunting her. Daryl clenched his fists in anger. He vaguely heard snippets of the teasing. "What the hell is wrong with your face Beth?" Her name was Beth. Daryl didn't know why, but he thought the name suited her.
That was when he noticed her sunglasses were on the floor, snapped in half. Daryl could barely see her among the others, and he knew it was time for this to stop. He walked over to them and grabbed Beth's arm, pulling her away.
He didn't bother to look at her face as he dragged them both to the closet. He heard someone call out, "Running away with that redneck trash? Real mature." He didn't even pay attention. Right now was about Beth. As he shoved them both inside and locked the door, Beth turned away from him, her shoulders shaking.
"Beth…" He tried to turn her towards him, but she remained still. "Don't look at me!" "Why don't you want me to look at you?" "I'm ugly. Don't look at me." Her voice cracked and shattered into a heavy sob. Daryl understood her pain.
Her demons lay upon her face, his upon his back.
He hadn't ever wanted anyone to see it either. He understood. He slowly turned Beth around and was shocked by what he saw. There were bandaids where her eyebrows were meant to be. Beth's eyes darkened with a sadness and a fear Daryl had only ever seen in one person before her.
And she had gone up in flames a long time ago.
"I said don't look at me," she screamed. She pushed him aside and raced out the door. Daryl didn't bother to follow her. He needed to process what the hell had just happened.
It was about a week later and Daryl still hadn't seen Beth. He'd gone to the closet every day and she hadn't been there. He was just walking down to the courtyard today when he noticed a shadow in the crook of the wall. He walked over to it and the huddled figure flinched away from him.
He knelt down and looked into the darkness. There Beth sat with her big book of Shakespeare and a brand new pair of sunglasses. She groaned and shut her book with a loud snap. "How did you find me?" "Took me a week," he joked lamely. "Oh. I didn't think anyone was looking." He sighed and crossed his legs.
"Let's start with simple stuff," he said. "Do you have a drink?" She nodded. "Good. So do I." He pulled out his water bottle from his bag. "I guess a thing about you, you guess a thing about me. If either of us are wrong we take a drink." She nodded and smiled a little smile.
"I'll go first," he offered. He cleared his throat. "You're scared. Of a lot of things." She chuckled. "That's too easy." "The first one is always easy. Now you go." She tapped her finger on her chin.
"You're shy," she blurted out like she'd just said the most ingenious thing.
She really hadn't, but the smile on her face was worth it.
"You love Shakespeare." She giggled. "So do you." He laughed and shook his head. "We need to make this harder." She nodded. "You play a sport," she said. He gave her a grin. "Sorry to disappoint you girl." She groaned in mock agony as she took a sip of her juice.
"My turn," he said. "You live in the city." She let out a giggle completed with a snort. "Nope. I live on a farm." He took a sip of his water. She paused. "Your name is…. Josh?." He tipped his head back and laughed."Nope. It's Daryl."
She took a sip of her juice, smile on her lips. He gulped. "You're pretty." He was sure he saw a faint red tint rise to her cheeks. She lifted up her juice to take a sip, but he pushed it down. He leaned closer and gently slipped off her sunglasses.
"And pretty girls don't hide."
He took in the sight of her shiny cornflower eyes as he gently pulled the bandaids off of her face. Where her eyebrows were meant to be were just a few little blonde hairs. She ducked her head. "I'm not pretty. Not like this." Daryl just shook his head.
He leaned closer and kissed each eyebrow as softly as he could. The delight on Beth's face was apparent, and all Daryl could do was grin. As the bell rang he pulled Beth to her feet.
As they walked inside Beth stood up on her toes and whispered in his ear, "I think I found my fairy."
Authors Note: This story was really difficult for me to write. Beth's mental health problem is that she picks her eyebrows. The disease is called Trichotalimania. I've suffered with it for about three years. And since I'm in high school I go through so much teasing for it. I wrote this to bring awareness to the problem, of which people don't know exists. It's something that really steals your confidence away and makes you want to literally hide in a closet and never come out. I am getting progressively better. But if any of you have this problem don't be afraid to talk to me. Make sure you give me some feedback! Reviews are appreciated!