Disclaimer: I own nothing. Not Newsies, not LOVE. NOTHING!

Title: Violence Recovery

Author: Buttons14

Genre: Drama

Rating: R (subject to change)

With each new fall I hit twice as hard.
Would you be there for me?
I would be there for you.
Would you look up to see?
Falling forward and looking up.— A Fire Inside (better known as AFI), Coin Returning

Chapter 8—Coin

The lodge is still in the afternoon light. I know why they call it 'Sunshine Falls'. It's the way the beams of light filter through the window and hit the furniture. Everything seems to jump out at once, embracing the radiance and the warmth.

The TV is off and a discarded cassette is lying on top of it, splaying Indiana Jones about to viewers. The clock ticks, never missing a second. I close my eyes and tilt my head backwards, feeling the sunbeams on my face.

The door clicks and swings. Someone steps inside. There is a shuffling as they wipe their feet and a gust of cool air from outside ruffles against my leg. There is the tousle of a jacket being hung and a creak as they lean on a wall. I crack one eye open. Her choppy hair is hanging over her eyes and she is peeling her blue converse off her feet.

Coin sits down. "Hey Spot."

I sniff and retreat within my black pullover. "Hey."

The cuffs of her grey pants are frayed. She pulls her knees to her chest, her wool-socked feel peeking over the side of the seat.

I yawn. "Wha's up?" I manage, fighting back a second yawn.

"I don't know. Not much," she says. There is a look on her face that seems to tell me more.

"Are you sure?" I ask.

She shrugs. "I guess. I don't know." She sighs almost mutely and rubs her eyebrow. A pensive look sweeps through her expression.

"If you're sure," I say, staring out the tall lodge windows to the lake. I see someone sitting on the bridge that David and I sat on. The thin rope bridge, swaying in the wind, creaking with the breeze.

Coin shifts in her seat and looks out where I am too. "How long have you been with us Spot?" she asks gently.

I think about this for a second. "About a month," I answer.

A flitter of a smile crosses her mouth, but she fights it back. It's as if she's not allowed to smile. "I've been here for three." She hugs her knees tighter. "And all this time I don't really have anyone, y'know?"

I guess. "Yeah."

"Like…Sapphy and Ele get along and so do Crutchy and Boots. But I don't have anyone."

I think. "I don't either," I say.

Coin doesn't appear to have noticed. She continues to stare out across the water to the bridge. The person on the bridge is standing, getting their footing, and climbing down. Coin turns to me.

"I just wish I had had more friends," she says, then she shakes her head. "No, wait. That came out wrong. I always had a few really good friends, but I was never really friends with everyone."

How could you be? I want to ask, but I don't want to cut her off. It seems like she is confusing herself more than explaining things to me.

Coin stops talking and shuts her eyes. She sighs. "Do you ever watch TV shows and there are all these cliques? Y'know, like the football players and the cheerleaders? Or the band geeks and the science nerds?"

I'm not sure what she's getting at with this, but I nod and listen.

"My school wasn't like that. Sure, we has a football team and a cheerleading squad, but we didn't discriminate against anyone because of these things. Once you were off the field you were just another kid. There was no special treatment. Everyone was a student before anything else and that's how everyone treated them. The whole myth of it is kind of suburban anyways. It was a good school. We had a high GPA and a lot of teams and clubs. I was on the magazine committee," she smiled slightly, "and things were good. I had a group of good friends, friends I had since kindergarten. I had a good boyfriend."

Coin pauses to make sure she isn't talking to herself. Her eyes flash over my face. I nod and she continues.

"He was sweet. He was a junior, a year older than me. He was on the swim team. We were only going out for a while. Maybe two weeks…" She trails off and her eyes get that misty glazed over look. She fiddles with the chain of her necklace, twirling it around her finger.

"Have you ever been bullied Spot?" she asks, her voice coming from far away.

I nod. I'm small. People pick on me all the time. Just little jabs here and there, nothing too serious. Names and the occasional schoolyard fight. No one ever got hurt, this was when we were young. Angry words on the playground. The need for more lunch money.

"By a boy?"

I nod again. Always by a boy. The girls would stand by a laugh or pretend to be scared. Whatever they chose on that particular day.

"Well, getting bullied by a girl is ten times worse. She always has friends. My boyfriend's ex and her friends cornered me in the bathroom after school one day. 'You stole him from me, you bitch!', she had yelled, and they all started pushing me," Coin's voice is smooth, like a narrator. The tone is nonexistent as she runs through the worst moment of her life. "One of them locked the door so no one could come in. When I stopped fighting back one of them shoved me really hard against the wall. Everything went black and when I woke up I was covered in lipstick and my hair was hacked off." Instinctively Coin's hand goes to her short bob.

"They had left me there." The is a far, empty feeling in her words. Like something inside of her is crying out.

Under Coin's eyebrows is a healing cut, as if it was recently stitched. She pulls her knees in further and buries her face in them. Then she cries really hard and all I can do is reach over to her and assure her everything is okay.

My newest lesson: A situation can change faster than ever imagined. The room was just filled with sunshine and lazy comfort and now a cloud has blocked the sun and a sobbing girl sits beside me.

When Coin is done crying she wipes her eyes with her sleeve and pulls her sweater closer around her, covering her vintage Beatles t-shirt. I get up and pop the Indiana Jones movie in the VCR. When I go to sit back down Coin stands up and hugs me.

"Thank you," she whispers.

I want to say 'What for?', but before I can she says:

"…for being a friend."

I shoot her a crooked half-smile. "No problem."

And outside the wind blows the cloud off the sun. The room fills again.

End Chapter

((Wow! A much faster update compared to what I've been doing lately. I hope you all enjoyed it. Please review! I will love you forever. Yes. That long.))

Shoutouts:

Dreamer110—I love David! Lots of people hate him, but I like the studious-nerdy type. I guess it's because he's a nerd too. However, I felt I needed to make him do something other than read. No one is that far off. And I like the nostalgia too. And the word 'nostalgia'.

C.M. Higgins—I feel bad killing off the Jacobs' too. Well…mostly only Les. I really didn't want too! Les is such a sweetheart!

Coin—Oops. I was looking for something to use as my quote and I just checked John Mayer lyrics. I had no idea that The Police sang it before him! I just love John and thought: 'Hey, maybe I'll find something here!' Thanks for the tip though. Cottage is a funny word, don't worry. And David's story is pretty awesome. In a bad way though.

Nakaia Aidan-Sun—(gasp) Killing off the Jacobs' isn't fun! Well, except for Sarah and Esther. What is it with the women in that family?

SpellBell—you really are too nice to me. Really.

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