Secrets

I didn't completely understand the enormity of the situation until the next year, Year 4. Sure I was only a year older, but I'd gone through a lot during Year 3 with Sherlock. I'd gained some of his trust, he was more open around me than he was with anyone else in the school. And it was in these moments, when he would open up that I began to understand just how much pain he was really in.

Now, generally, I'm a very happy person. I try to be kind to all I meet or at the very least give them a warm smile, because I knew that just a genuine smile could brighten up someone's bad day. School was the first time I ever encountered negativity in my life, because there were so many different people, from different backgrounds, raised differently, with different attitudes and opinions. Before I ever got to school all I was surrounded by were family and close family friends, and of course they were all nice and kind. No one ever put anyone else down. And though, as any family does, they had their issues, I was too young to understand them and/or my parents would keep it from me.

So school was good for learning and experiencing that negativity. I realised that not everything in life was going to be like skipping through a field of flowers. The world was a cruel place to be, but that was only because people suffered and felt they had no other outlet, other than to pick on other people and make them feel lesser and more worthless. My school experience hadn't been too bad, though. No one really picked on me. They all just sort of left me alone to my own devices. I had a group of friend back in Manchester that I hung out with. All the kids in my class knew of me as the nice, sweet girl, but I wasn't popular.

Then came that day, that one day during fall term that it finally clicked for me. The day that it all fell into place. The day that I finally fully understood why Sherlock was sitting all alone during lunch with no food, reading the newspaper, my first day at a whole new school. All of it, really, not just with Sherlock but the whole "the world was a cruel place to be" thing as well.

Lunch had just started, however, I wasn't heading over there just yet because I had a meeting with a teacher. She promised it would be short—and I was hoping it would be, because you know how meetings with teachers are, you never really knew how long you'll be there—so I found myself heading to her classroom as soon as the bell rang for lunch. It's not like I was in any rush to get there because Sherlock always beat me there anyway. I never knew how he did it, but he did. I had chanced guesses that he somehow got out of class early, or maybe, because he never brought a lunch with him since I met him, he didn't take time to go to his locker.

Anyhow, it wasn't a race, I just didn't want to be too late. I wanted time to actually eat lunch and talk with Sherlock. (And also give him half my sandwich. It had become a habit, almost. I hated to see him go without eating during lunch. I don't know how he functioned on half a sandwich and sometimes nothing at all.)

I hesitantly walked into the doorway of Mrs Turpin's classroom and knocked lightly on the doorframe. She looked up from a stack of papers on her desk, holding a red pen, so I assumed grading papers, and smiled when she saw me.

"Come in, Lizzy," she said, waving me forward. You see, she taught math and I wasn't very good at it. At all. Basically, I was one test away from failing. My parents insisted that I go talk to her about my options, they're the ones that set up this meeting in the first place, and I have to oblige. They were my parents after all and I was failing this class.

I pulled a chair from one of the desks and stiffly sat down. I hated meetings with teachers. I always felt uncomfortable because I was afraid they were going to yell at me or get angry. I was trying my best, but math just wasn't my strong suit.

We discussed my current grade and an upcoming test. She said I did well on all the homework she gave out and wondered out loud why I couldn't perform at that level during a test. I explained that Sherlock helped me with homework. He obviously couldn't help me with a test. So we discussed a plan that would hopefully get me a passing grade in class, so I wouldn't have to repeat. Sherlock would stay my tutor, but I needed to put more effort into studying as well as working on my mental math and memorising my times table.

I thanked her and quickly left. It had taken ten more minutes than I had assumed, so I was now fifteen minutes late for lunch. I swiftly started to make my way to my locker, down one hall, turning right, down another hall, taking a left and then I was coming up to a corner that turned left. One wall was lockers, the opposite wall a line of large windows. After that I was one hallway away from my locker and lunch. Right before I turned down that hallways, though, I heard noise and halted in my tracks, my breathing instantly became shallow.

I moved closer to the wall and tip-toed to the corner to peek around it. I never believed that that really worked. I'd seen it in television shows and movies, but they always ducked behind the wall after they were spotted. And though the people they were spying on passed it off as their imagination, I sure as hell wouldn't. If I thought someone was watching me, I'd go check it out. But… that was just me.

And here I was doing exactly the opposite of how I felt. But I wanted to see what was going on. It didn't sound good and the air around this little area of hallway didn't feel nice, either.

There were three boys from our year and then there was Sherlock. The boys were blocking most of my view, their backs to me, but I got glimpses when they shifted from foot to foot or moved, it was definitely Sherlock. I'd recognise those dark curly locks anywhere. They acted as some sort of barricade between him and the hallways he'd been heading down. And they weren't being very nice.

"Hey, freak, where do you think you're going?" One of them sneered, shoving Sherlock's shoulder. I felt like I recognised that voice, but I couldn't be too sure.

"I'm going to the lunchroom." Sherlock answered in a monotone, gazing at the boys steadily.

"What, no lunch today?" Another one mocked before all three of them laughed. More voice recognition, but not enough to give me a face or a name.

"Guess he finally learned his lesson, then." The third chimed in, still snickering. Again, there was an overwhelming sense that I knew this boy as well as the other two, but because they weren't facing my way, I wasn't sure. Also, I was eavesdropping on something I probably didn't want to be eavesdropping on.

"I don't know guys, maybe he's hiding it in his backpack." One of them said. All three of them exchanged a look before taking a step toward Sherlock.

I pulled back then and squeezed my eyes shut, putting fisted hands over them and gritting my teeth. I didn't know what to do! I wanted to help but… but what was I supposed to do? I'd never encountered bullying before, especially such violent bullying. It was scary. I was really scared. For myself and for Sherlock. But I just didn't know what to do!

"You guys hold him and I'll get his backpack." I heard one of the boys say.

Biting my lip, hard, I lifted my head and looked around the hallways, thinking maybe I could go get a teacher and try to put a stop to this. But all I could see were lockers. One door, unfortunately it was labelled Janitor's Closet. That would do no use unless I wanted to scare those three boys with dirty water.

I heard the scuffling of shoes and grunts as they struggled.

My pulse increased and my breathing became more rapid. I had to do something quick! Maybe if I caught them and yelled at them, stood up to them they'd run off, scatter. Yeah, I could maybe do that…. Maybe. Still biting my lip, my hands clenching and unclenching into fists, I quickly worked up the courage to go over to them and make them stop. A thought froze me in my tracks, though. If I went and stopped what was going on, then they would make fun of him for being saved by a girl. That would just make things worse! And they'd spread rumours and people would laugh at him… oh, it'd be terrible! Still, I couldn't just let him get bullied!

So I made up my mind to go help him and just when I was about to turn the corner I heard a loud-ish bang and some of the lockers rattle, followed by a small grunt of pain and more struggling. On a dime my nerve vanished and I went back to being scared. I covered my ears this time and backed up against the wall, my knees feeling weak. My hands did no good to filter out the noise, though.

"Hey," Sherlock's voice cut through air. "Give that back! That's mine!" I squeezed my eyes shut tight and held my breath when I heard another bang and more rattling of the lockers.

"Watch yourself, Holmes." one of the boys spat before I heard the unzipping of backpack zippers.

I felt so pathetic, hiding behind this wall. Unable to help a friend who desperately needed it, because I had a feeling this had happened before, only no one had ever been there to help him. And here I was, to coward to help him. He finally had someone and yet no help was coming. It was like insult to injury, lemon juice in his eye, salt on his open wounds. This was horrible, and I was a horrible friend.

"Let's see," the same boy who'd warned him a moment ago said. "What do we have in here?" There was a pause as, I suspected, he rifled through Sherlock's things. The boy snorted. "Favourite Poems," he read out loud. "William Wordsworth." He scoffed as the other two boys laughed. "You like poems, do you, Sherly." He continued to mock.

"That's not my name." Sherlock responded coldly.

"Oh, that's right, your name is Freak." one of the other boys said.

I still couldn't get myself to move, but the guilt was building up with every word that came out of those boys' mouths.

"A freak who likes poetry, apparently." The boy with the backpack scoffed before I heard a thud.

"Careful, that's a library book." Sherlock growled. Yet another bang and lockers rattling.

"Careful, that's a library book," one of them mocked in a baby voice, before all three of them laughed.

"Oh, and a Chemistry textbook!" the one boy exclaimed. "What a geek." He chortled. "But it doesn't look like there's any sort of food in here that I can see." I relaxed slightly. Maybe it was going to end really soon. (How naïve I was back then.) "But, you never know." The sound of more zippers, followed by many things hitting the ground—I'm guessing papers, pens, pencils, the sort of stuff you'd find inside a backpack.

Unwanted tears formed in my still closed eyes then. People were so cruel. I was one of them. Unable to help because I was a coward.

Finally, though it was over.

"All right, guys, let's go. Lunch'll be over soon."

I straightened up and opened my eyes, realising they were coming this direction. I didn't have time to hide, but I didn't want to make it seem like I'd heard what had just happened. My heart pumping in my chest painfully I fumbled for a book from my backpack and opened it up just as they turned a corner. I started walking forward, pretending not to notice them until I crashed into one of them.

"Oh, God!" I exclaimed, closing my book and stepping back a little afraid they'd start picking on me for reading a book. "I'm so sorry. I didn't see you there. I-I—"

"Hey, Lizzy," one of the guys said genially, giving me a smile. Which shocked me considering they'd just bullied Sherlock back there. But that didn't come as the real shock. What came as the real shock was that I knew all three of these guys, and I had even thought they were nice. That'd explain why I thought their voices had sounded so familiar. I'd talked with them and laughed with them. Helped them with English homework. (That was the point in time I realised that people had more than one dimension and more than one face.)

"H-hey, Jack, Derek, Colin," I stuttered, greeting them each respectively, forcing a smile on my face.

"I thought you'd be in the lunchroom." Colin commented. His voice had been the one I'd heard when they were going through his things, commenting on Sherlock's books.

I also found it odd that they knew I hung out with Sherlock during lunch and they didn't comment or make fun of me for that. In fact, no one made fun of me for that…. I'd figure this out later.

"Well, actually, I had to meet with a teacher. I was just actually going to my locker for my lunch, right now." I explained with a shaky laugh, sidling past them, trying not to seem nervous.

"You want us to walk you there. I feel like we haven't talked in a while." Jack offered, the three of them turning to face me as I made my way to the corner.

"No, that's not necessary. I'll see you guys next period. You should go… hang out with your friends before lunch ends." I insisted.

"You sure? We don't mind." Derek put in, looking back and forth between his buddies. "Right guys?" They agreed and nodded, looking at each other before looking back at me.

"Really," My voice had raised about two octaves and I quickly lowered it back to its normal tone. "Really, guys, it's no problem at all. It's not like these hallways are… dangerous or anything." I joked, forcing a laugh. They laughed with me.

"Well, all right, if you say so." Colin said. "But, if you need anything, you know where to find us." He smiled. They all did. Ugh, they seemed so sweet!

I nodded and forced myself to smile back. "Right. Okay, bye, guys." I turned and was about to dash off and look for Sherlock when one of them stopped me.

"Oh, wait, Lizzy," Derek said. I stopped and slowly turned to face him.

"Yeah," I replied through clenched teeth, but a smile still on my face. This act wasn't going to keep. Hurry it up already! I thought.

"You have… well, you're hair—" Derek finally just reached forward, taking a loose strand of my strawberry blonde hair and tucking it behind my ear. I tried not to jerk away or flinch. He pulled back embarrassed and blushing. They had just picked on Sherlock? It was just so hard to believe. They seemed so… nice.

"Thanks. Bye, again." I mumbled before turning and heading down the hall they'd just come from. They all got their farewells in and headed down the hall I was just in. I made sure they were out of earshot before I sprinted down this hall, which was already empty. Sherlock had cleaned up his stuff and cleared out while I'd been trying to get away from Jack, Derek and Colin.

"Sherlock?" I called, coming up to where the hall split left or I could keep going forward. I followed my instinct and continued forward but not sprinting anymore. "Sherlock?" I called again. I went down two or three more halls and stopped, out of breath and disappointed with myself. I also felt I'd failed. Failed to be a good friend and help him and failed to find him to try and be there for him.

I looked at the clock, I had ten minutes left of lunch. And I still hadn't eaten. Groaning I turned around to head back to my locker, because I still hadn't gotten my lunch bag. Maybe I should just skip lunch today and—

I jumped back and let out a squeak when I almost crashed into someone.

"Sherlock!" I exclaimed, throwing my arms around him, not really thinking. All I knew was that I was relieved to see him. To be able to talk to him. "I'm sorry." I instantly said, still hugging him tightly. He seemed too… stunned or surprised by this close contact to move. "I'm so sorry." I pulled back, tears forming in my eyes again, but I blinked rapidly to dispel them.

"What for?" he asked in a monotone.

I looked at him for a moment. "You know what." I said quietly. His poker face dropped a little and I took a small step toward him. "You can trust me." I promised.

Anger flashed in his mint green eyes. "They've done this for four years. I don't see why it has to be a problem now. It's not like it's a big deal." He started to turn away but I grabbed his arm.

"Sherlock," I said, my voice hard. He tried to pull out of my grasp but I tightened my grip. "Sherlock," I said again and waited until he looked at me. Well, more like angled his body toward me and looked down at the floor. "It matters because you have me now. I'm here for you, Sherlock. You don't need to hide it anymore. At least," I said, my voice softer now, "not around me."

He closed his eyes tightly, his hands balling into fists. His jaw was taught. His whole body was tense. I could see just how conflicted he was. Suddenly he jerked his arm out of my hand. I took a step back and gave him a moment. He stood there for a few seconds more, still tense before he moved toward the lockers, slamming his fists up against them—making me jump—before resting them there, his head down, shoulders hunched. I stayed put, though and continued to watch him, and wait.

I don't know how much time passed, could've been five minutes or five seconds, but he moved again. Turning around and leaning against the wall of lockers, head still down, eyes still fixed on the floor. And then he slid down to the floor, bringing his legs up to his chest, resting his arms on his knees and resting his forehead on his arms.

I slowly approached him, a little stiffly to, I'll admit, and sat down next to him. His whole body was trembling. It was hard to see, though and I really wouldn't have been able to tell if it weren't for his hair. It was dark against the light coming from the windows and it was most definitely trembling.

I let out a small sigh and looked over at the opposite wall. Staring blankly at it. On impulse I reached out and took one of his hands, pulling his arm away from his knees, and held it tightly in mine, still staring straight ahead. I felt Sherlock's eyes on me after I'd done this, but I didn't look over at him, and he didn't make a move to take his hand back, so I figured I was okay.

I saw him move his other arm and looked over at him for a quick moment through the corners of my eyes just in time to see him wipe away some tears on his face. He had been absolutely silent this whole time. I didn't even know. My breath caught when I saw that and my eyes went back to the wall opposite, but my hand gave his a gentle squeeze, a reminder that I was here for him and that I always would be.

I felt his eyes on me again, but as before, I kept my gaze fixed on the spot on the opposite wall. There was a reason he didn't want me to see him outright crying, so I was doing my best to respect that while being there for him.

We sat like that until the end of lunch. When the bell rang we both stood up and started to head off in separate directions, no goodbyes or anything, no noise, in fact.

"Elizabeth," Sherlock said suddenly, breaking the silence. This hallway hadn't been overtaken by kids quite yet. I turned to face him.

"Thank you." he said.

I couldn't help the smile that spread across my face. Sherlock's answering smile, which lit up his soft now-blue eyes, only made me smile more. And with that, we headed off to our next classes.

I knew holding his hand hadn't been much compared to all the things I could've done for him while he'd been getting pushed around and after, but at the very least, it reminded him he wasn't alone anymore.

Ugh, this was extremely hard for me to right, just because of the fact that I feel like I'm bullying Sherlock and it's not a fun feeling.

Title is the same as the name of a song by OneRepublic. I feel it fits…. (I think that's going to be a thing for this story, now: titles of the chapter named after a song that fits the mood.)

As always, I hope you enjoyed.

Also, I hope I didn't make it seem too dramatic—Elizabeth's reaction, the boy's picking on Sherlock—but you have to remember they are nine.

Thank you for reading,
TheBrightestNight