Bea's POV
Oh no. I didn't know what to do. The way he was looking at me made me feel terrified. He pulled me up slowly, his grip on my wrists loosening. He was staring at something on my face. My hand went up, fingertips tracing the scar I got a long time ago. He moved my hand, like nobody was staring. He kept looking at it. He finally glided his thumb of my jaw bone… right over the scar, and walked away.
He was at school? But he was… I couldn't think straight at all. People all around me were looking. I touched my scar again… to see if it was still there. I jumped when I felt someone put their hand on my shoulder.
"Bea?" Joe asked. I turned around and sure as hell, there was Joe. He was holding onto my book. I took it from him and put it in my purse. He was staring at me funny too. "Are you alright?"
"Yeah," I said, "I mean… I should get to class." He was about to call me back, to protest, but I walked off.
Man, I haven't felt anything that intense in a long time. He stared at the small little mark like he knew what happened to me. Could he? I shook my head at myself. No, that wasn't possible. He didn't know what it was. But why was he so attentive to it? I didn't understand how, but he must've known… I mean it's the only way it would relate to them right?
Ugh, never mind.
Class went by way too fast. I knew Joe had already told Stella and Macy. Even if they didn't, they would still know. Only half of out junior class was watching. I smiled at myself; I was being ridiculous. I shouldn't care so much. But this wasn't just some guy. It was Nick Bardwell… the one who's gone through hell in back, the one they found tied up in a closet last night.
I walked out of my first hour homeroom and slowly walked to my locker. I fiddled with the combo a little bit until I got it open. I looked down the hall, in search of Macy or Stella. Then a feeling washed over me… like someone was watching me. My eyes only had to shift a little bit to find that Nick was staring at me in a very strange way. I quickly looked away, nearly stuffing myself in my locker. He was looking at me like I was an insect he wanted to squish. What did I do? Oh yeah, I ran into him. But still… was that something to get seriously upset over? Did I hurt him?
"Bea!" someone yelled from down the hallway. I poked my head out from behind my locker door and saw Stella running down to me. I rolled my eyes; here we go. Before I went back to my hiding place, I took another glance at Nick. He was still staring at me… did he even blink while I was gone? "Bea," Stella said when she reached me. She was completely out of breath, "Tell. Me. Everything!"
"W-what?" I asked. I pretended to act so dumbstruck because Nick certainly wasn't out of earshot.
"You know," she said a little quieter now, "With Nick."
"Oh, um, nothing," I said, shutting my locker and darting the opposite way from him. I sure would've gotten to class sooner if I went the way towards him though.
"What do you mean nothing?" she asked following me, "Joe told me he grab you."
"What?" I asked irritated, "He didn't grab me. I ran into him and he kept me from falling on my ass. That's all it is."
"Oh, really?" she tested, "Then what about the part with your scar. Was Joe lying about that too?"
"No," I said, "No, he saw it. Big deal. It's pretty visible."
"But… you know…" Stella said, "It shows how connected you are with him."
"I am not connected to anyone," I snapped, "And… for crying out loud. People need to just… back off of him. I could understand why he's afraid of everyone." Stella had no retort. I sighed. I knew I made her feel bad. "Look, I'm sorry. I'm just… I feel really bad for him is all."
"Yeah," Stella said, "Yeah… It's okay." I nodded and kept walking, "Hey Bea?"
"Yeah?" I said, looking at her. She looked really troubled.
"You don't have to hide it from him," she said, "I mean… I don't know him… but he may know more than you think." I was surprised to hear that come from her. But I ignored her and walked in a safe haven; a classroom away from her.
I didn't need to tell anyone anything.
Nick's POV
Blondie was really getting on my nerves. And it wasn't because she ran into me. It was because of that tiny little scar on her jaw. I didn't understand why she had to have it on there. As soon as I saw it, I started of thinking ways to rip it off. But of course, that's not logical at all.
She was abused too; by her mother maybe? I remember her father was the sheriff in town so that wasn't an option. Besides, I knew him. He was nice. The scar may have been a burn mark. I have plenty of those marks on me. I could probably identify it if I wasn't trying to forget it.
I know it makes no sense to be annoyed at her because of a scar. But I… didn't want her to have to feel that. I didn't want anyone to feel that. I didn't care about her. No… I didn't. I just… I don't know.
I just don't know.
I walked the hallway alone, skipping class. I wasn't really in the mood to even come here today. But the only way to get away from Florence was to come to school. But now I wanted to get away from people here. I had no where to go; but I was use to that.
Her other friend… who in the hell did she think she was? Screaming down the hallway like that? I heard her say my name, assuming she was one of those people, I had to get away from her.
Bea; that was her name wasn't it? I had no urge to ask anyone. I would just call her Blondie for now. Not that I wanted to know her name.
Not that I wanted to know her at all.
Bea's POV
"School blows," I sang to myself after Geometry. I wasn't in any mood now. I don't want to blame Stella… or Nick. I just… I don't know. At least I was more than halfway through the day. I just to get through Art and Music then I would be okay.
"Free sketch today, kiddo," said my way too hippie looking art teacher. I smiled. I liked art. I was always good at it… and I wasn't good at anything else and I kind of liked this.
It didn't occur to me that I was the only one in the classroom. I always got to this class way to quickly. Well, on the bright side, it gave me time to think. I opened up a sketchbook of mine that was falling apart. I started sketching in something, mindlessly shading and highlighting the right places. I felt like I finally had peace.
"Hey," I turned up to see Joe looking down at me. I smiled a little but just barely. To be honest I was just a little annoyed with people to today; that is, if you haven't noticed yet.
"Hey," I said, "What's up?"
"Nothing," he said sitting next to me. He had his hand on my shoulder, "I'm sorry… I really am. I'll keep my mouth shut next time." I smiled a little more, nodding.
"Thanks," I said, "But I don't think there's going to be a next time." He shrugged.
"You never know," he said.
"Alright, class," the teacher said, "You're going to have to sketch up something good for our daily art off! So get to work!" I didn't realize the whole class had shown up and started working. I returned to my sketch, letting the thoughts of nothing take over.
But then I got that feeling again. My eyes moved up to see Nick again. He was in this class? Great. Just great. He wasn't staring at me anymore though. He was staring off into nothing, staring down at his drawing. I couldn't help but try and put myself in his skin. What would he be thinking about right now? Well it was obvious.
"Bea?" Joe asked. I snapped out of it and turned my attention towards my drawing as quickly as possible. I didn't want Joe to notice anything he didn't need to.
"Yeah?" I asked.
"I'll be right back," he said, "I forgot something out of my locker. Cover for me, will you?"
"Yeah," I said, "Yeah sure." He got up and simply walked out of the room. He wasn't there to watch me watch Nick; but I wasn't going to stare at him more. That was unnecessary and kind of creepy.
"You messed up, child," said my"mom". She leaned forward, alcohol clear in her breath. She wasn't really my mother, I thought. She was my step-mother actually. My mom died when she was pregnant with me. My mom wouldn't do this to me. But some homewrecker would.
"What are you doing?" I asked frightened. She jerked my forward towards the fire. It was winter and my father was on late night patrol. I wasn't expecting her to come home at all. But of course, she was full of surprises.
"Teaching you a lesson, you little brat," she grabbed the fire poker with one hand and gripping my face with the other. I clawed at her arm, but it was as if she didn't feel it.
"Stop!" I yelled. But she wouldn't. I shut my eyes and she held the red hot fire poker to my jaw-line. I screamed in agonizing pain. She held it there longer, and longer. I could feel my skin frying right off. Once she was fully satisfied, she threw the fire poker across the room, and me to the ground. I lied there until she kicked me over on my back. She put her foot over my throat.
"You best behave, little girl," she said, "Or next time won't be nearly as pleasant."
"Bea?" I felt someone's hands on my shoulders. I turned around and saw my art teacher with a look of concern on her face. I didn't realize I had been crying. Starting drama was the last thing I was trying to do. But I knew people would be talking about this next to Nick. In speaking of him, I looked at him. He was staring at me blankly following the tears that trailed down my face.
"I have to go," I said. I got up and scurried out the door, leaving my sketchbook by accident.
