Dance
Chapter Eight: Masquerade
***
"Buried deep as you can dig inside yourself, and covered with a perfect shell, such a charming beautiful exterior. Laced with brilliant smiles and shining eyes and perfect posture, but you're barely scraping by, but you're barely scraping by. Well this is one time, this is one time that you can't fake it hard enough to please everyone or anyone at all, or anyone at all..."
-The Places You Have Come to Fear the Most, Dashboard Confessional
***
Her smiles never quite reached her eyes these days. Not that he ever noticed. Scott was changing. She could hardly see any trace of the angst-ridden teen that had wormed his way into her heart. In the span of a few short weeks, his angry eyes had gradually been replaced with sky blue orbs that radiated peace and tranquility. She loved the clarity of the gaze that was frequently directed at her, but it didn't understand her. He didn't understand her.
It was there that the first barrier had been erected between them. Scott had reached a level of existence that Shelby feared would never be in her grasp. His demons had been faced and defeated. His secrets had been revealed and accepted with friendship and understanding. She could no longer expect him to share her pain, because he was no longer suffering.
She didn't begrudge his peace. But she wasn't happy about it either. How could she be happy that he was drifting away from her, slowly but surely? She tried to act like nothing was wrong. She smiled when he smiled, she laughed when he laughed. But when his back was turned, the sullen look always returned.
He didn't notice how superficial her happiness was. She was playing a part and he bought her performance hook, line, and sinker. He didn't know any better, because he didn't know her. Not really know her.
The bond they had formed out of their mutual anguish was slowly beginning to crumble as he healed. Shelby's wounds stung her as violently as the day she had first received them. Every day they penetrated her skin, cutting her deeper and harsher than before. The weight of her fear and shame weighed heavily on her shoulders, but she refused to ease her burden. She didn't know how.
And slowly but surely, her mask began to tear. The scared little girl hiding within the stoic shell of the bitter teenager was threatened with exposure. The facade began to slip through her fingers like sand. Still, she held on tighter, her resolve never wavering. But it was only a matter of time before it would slip away completely.
***
Peter began to recognize a disturbing trend. As Scott improved, Shelby retrogressed. Scott was finally beginning to deal with his problems. He spoke more in group. He was honest and frank with Peter in their one-on-one sessions. And on the surface, he remained as close to Shelby as ever. But Shelby was as sullen and moody as she had been when she first arrived. She tried to keep up appearances, for the most part. But the subtle progress she had begun to make in the wake of her friendship with Scott had deteriorated into virtual nonexistence. She had been at Horizon for nearly six months, but had yet to reveal her past. He had learned about the drugs and prostitution from her mother. It was in her file. But he knew instinctively that there had to be more to it than that. His hands were tied. He could not pressure her; he would support her no matter how hard she tried to push everyone away.
***
"Mail," Kat announced cheerfully. She tossed small bundles of envelopes tied with twine onto their beds.
Shelby ignored the stampede created by the other girls and continued scribbling away at her English paper.
"What's the matter, Shelby?" Juliette asked sweetly. "No one care enough to write?"
Shelby tried to ignore how much the comment hurt her. Even though it was the truth. Her mother hadn't written to her once since she'd dumped her there, and Juliette knew it. She tried not to think about how much she wanted to shove her pencil right between the Princess's obnoxiously bright eyes. Instead, she smiled tightly. "Did your new personality come yet?" she asked, gesturing to Juliette's pile of mail.
Kat sighed deeply. "Don't you two ever get tired of fighting?"
"She got in my face first," Shelby shrugged.
"Anyway," Kat continued, "if you would have bothered to look, you would have seen this." She held up a white envelope with Shelby's name on it.
Her eyes lit up before she could stop them. She tried to play it cool. "Thanks," she said indifferently, turning back to her essay as Kat placed the envelope on top of her books.
She quickly pocketed the envelope as she gathered her folders and notebooks. "Gotta get to class," she mumbled. She forced herself to saunter out of the cabin casually.
When she was certain she was far enough away from their prying eyes, she tore into the envelope. A glossy, drug store card greeted her. "Happy Birthday," it said, in flowery letters. She opened the card. Her mother's angular cursive scrawled across most of the inside cover. She began to read.
***
Scott tried to stifle another yawn. He looked at the clock. Ten more minutes until Pre-Calc was over. He tapped his pencil against his open notebook. It left little marks dotted all over his notes. He erased them, careful not to smudge anything.
Was anyone else as bored as he was? He looked around. Nope, they were all paying rapt attention, their eyes focused on the blackboard. Except for Shelby. He craned his neck, trying to see over her shoulder. She was sitting right in front of him, but he couldn't see what she was pulling discreetly out of her notebook.
He sat back against his chair. He still couldn't see, and it was only making his neck hurt. She would tell him after class. Or maybe not. Actually, she hadn't been telling him much of anything lately. He frowned. She had been very distant the last few days. Why? Was it something he had done? He searched his memory.
He was still thinking when the bell rang, signaling the end of class. He slammed his notebook shut and jumped to his feet. But she was already hurrying away. He fought against the other students, pushing his way to the door. She was halfway down the steps. He ran to catch up. "Shelby!"
She didn't hear him. She seemed to walk faster.
He was closer now. "Shelby, wait up!"
She stopped. "Hey," she said. "I didn't see you back there."
"So, uh, what have you been up to?"
She shrugged. "The usual. Why?"
He fiddled with a loose thread on his shirt. "You haven't been around a lot, that's all."
"I don't know what to tell you," she said evenly. She watched in fascination as his eyes turned a deeper blue in frustration. "Look, I have to go. I'll catch up with you later." She tried not to run away.
He watched her as she walked farther and farther away from him. A card lay at his feet. He picked it up curiously. Shelby must have dropped it. He read the front. She hadn't told him it was her birthday! Well if he hadn't known, then who had? Who was the card from? He opened it.
***
Shelby,
Happy Birthday. I know I'm probably the last person you expected to hear from today, but this is my holiday as much as it is yours. I'm sorry I haven't written to you before this. I didn't know what to say. I still don't. I'm angry that you ran away from your family in favor of living on the streets. I'm disgusted over the way I found you. But you're my daughter and I love you.
I hope you are getting better. I want you to come home. We all want you to come home. Have a good birthday.
Love,
Mom
***
Shelby blinked back tears in the privacy of the woods. She almost wished her mother had forgotten about her birthday. That would have been preferable to the self-serving message she had sent instead. As always, her mother had displayed an amazing lack of tact and understanding. It was why Shelby never told anyone what happened to her. If her own mother wouldn't believe it, how would anyone else? If her own mother would condemn the choices she made, how would anyone else understand?
She was angry that her mother had used her birthday as an excuse to relieve her conscious of the fact that she had neglected her daughter for all this time. Now that she had reminded her daughter once again of how disappointed and disgusted she was with her, she could merrily live out her life with that pervert she called a husband.
She was going to burn the card, she decided. She flipped through her notebook. The envelope fell out of its pages. She reached inside the envelope. Nothing. She flipped through it again. It has to be here somewhere, she thought wildly. I must have dropped it, she realized. What if someone read it? She tried to remember the exact wording of the message. Would anyone realize the truth?
***
Scott understood Shelby's distance now. After receiving a birthday card like that, who wouldn't be? He was angry on her behalf. He read the card again. What had she meant when she wrote that she was "disgusted" by the way she found her? And he hadn't known that Shelby had run away. She had never told him. It looked like she had never told him a lot of things.
He tried not to let it bother him. But a question echoed annoyingly inside his head. What else isn't she telling you?
***
She combed the entire campus. She traced and retraced every step she had taken since receiving the card. She still couldn't find it. She ended her search by the docks. She had been avoiding it for the last few weeks. She couldn't take the extreme effort it took to make Scott think she was okay. But she needed to seek comfort from the ancient boards and the clear sky.
He had beaten her there. He was waiting for her. She debated leaving before he saw her, but decided against it. Lately, she was having a lot of trouble deciding whether she wanted to see him or avoid him. She cared for him deeply. But they were too different now. He was well on his way to recovery while she was still bogged down by her past.
He heard her approach. "Hey."
"Hey," she responded.
"Happy Birthday."
She tensed. "How did you know?"
He pulled the card from his notebook and held it out to her.
She snatched it away. He watched solemnly as she ripped it to shreds and hurled them over the water. She turned to him, her eyes blazing. "Did you read it?"
He nodded.
"Why?"
"I was jealous that someone else knew it was your birthday and I didn't." He stuck his chin out petulantly.
She glared at him. "You had no right to read that. You knew it was mine."
He glared back. "Why didn't you tell me?"
"I'm not big on birthdays," she said sarcastically.
"That you ran away from home," he clarified, through clenched teeth.
"It's none of your business," she snapped.
"What's wrong with you!" he exploded. "I thought we were friends!"
"Just because we're friends I have to tell you everything about me? I can't have secrets?" She couldn't believe her ears.
"I told you everything about my life! And you don't tell me anything about yours. That's real fair!"
"You wouldn't understand!"
"How do you know that if you won't give me a chance?"
"Because my own mother doesn't understand! I don't understand! How could you possibly understand!"
"Try me!"
"No." She crossed her arms over her chest defiantly and narrowed her eyes.
He stood up. He towered over her angrily.
She stood her ground. She couldn't believe that he was trying to use his height to intimidate her.
He was hurt. He trusted her with everything he had, but she didn't trust him enough to tell him whatever it was that she was hiding. He masked his hurt with anger. He glowered at her one last time before he brushed her aside and stormed away from the docks.
Her anger disappeared. Another wall between them. And this time she had placed it there deliberately. But it didn't matter. She hadn't slipped up. The mask was still intact.
End Chapter Eight