XIV. What They Say, What I Say

"He was my friend, faithful and just to me; But Brutus said he was ambitious; And Brutus is an honorable man." -Julius Caesar

I am so cold.

One of the rats stuck its teeth into my left leg. Being that my leg already has a long cut from my adventure in the park with Jay, it felt as if someone set it on fire. I didn't mean to scream so loudly into Rick's ear while we were talking, but now my phone's dead, and it's raining so heavily that the water has now reached my waist line.

There's nothing I can do. I'm trapped like a rat (more pun), and I can't climb out of the well myself. Either someone comes and saves me within the next ten minutes, or I drown in the rain. I'm fifteen years old. It's not my time to die. I miss my mother, but I don't miss her THAT much! I need to be here for dad. For Vince. And...Rick.

I close my eyes as I think in the pounding rain. Before we cut out, Rick told me he thought I was another Terri.

He's wrong. Terri didn't drown in a well. No! I can't think like that! They're coming! Rick and daddy and an ambulance. I'm not going to die today!

It's so hard to think positively with the rain showering me and the water rising around me, a reminder of my possible death. The rats are on my shoulders, avoiding drowning. I'm freezing from the water around me and the cold air. I shout at the top of my lungs for help. The sound of my voice echoes along the walls easily, but no one replies.

My eyes begin to sting. Sting from tears. Tears for the fear of dying; for the despair of having no way out; and for the guilt of not telling my father where I am. One streams down my face, then another, and their warmth is a pleasant contrast from the cold, painful drops of rain. My eyes fill with water, and the muscles in my face pinch up. The first hitched breath escapes my throat, and then I begin to sob. I can't cry! I'm going to catch a cold! I draw in a shaky breath and calm myself. Rick's breathing tips do work.

Rick. I don't realize until now how stupid we were going through all of those trees out in a thunderstorm, which has now subsided. We could have been struck by lightning out in the open and underneath the trees. I could have been electrocuted out in this pool of water, but nothing happened. Can I cheat death another time? I close my eyes after the last tear falls down my cheek. Mom, don't you want to see me grow up?

"Vivian!"

My eyes snap open. Was that a human? Am I imagining it?

"VIVIAN!"

That was much louder this time. That sounds like—RICK!

"I'M HERE!" I shout back.

A harsh beam of light shines directly in my eyes as I look up, and I shield my face with my arms.

"Step back!" Another voice shouts. "I'm going to throw this rope down, and I want you to hold on to it, alright?"

I obey, and a huge, thick rope falls into the well.

I wade towards the rope and hold on to it, wrapping my legs around it. I was always good at this in gym class, and now it's paying off. "I got it!" I say.

"Okay! We're pulling you up!" Says that other voice. It kind of sounds like Rick, only a little more mature and a little more deep.

Gradually, Rick and whoever is with him pull me up higher. The rain makes the rope slippery, and I fight to keep my grip, terrified of plunging into the water below.

"We're almost there." That voice grunts. I can see the two people at the top of the well: Rick and an older man. His dad?

As soon as I'm at the top, Rick grabs both my wrists. "I got you." He says gently and pulls me the rest of the way out. I press my boots against the ground to hoist myself up the rest of the way. Finally, I let go of the rope and take Rick's hands as he pulls me upright. As soon as he lets go, I jump into his arms, squeezing him like a teddy bear. He holds me tightly as well. "I got you." He whispers in my ear.

I shiver against Rick's warm body, who holds me closer and runs his hand over my shoulder and back. He didn't wait for an ambulance, I think with tears forming in my eyes, He came to get me on his own—with his father. I bite back a sob as a tear falls down my cheek again until I lose the strength. I let it out, which miraculously isn't as forceful as I thought it would be.

"Get these rats off her." The man says, and I hear the squeals of the two rats as I feel them being lifted from my shoulders.

Caressing my back, Rick says in my ear, "We're taking you to our place, okay? To get you cleaned up." He grabs my waist and holds me out at arm's length.

"Okay." I manage to say, sniffling.

He draws me to his side, and we face the other person. "Father, this is Vivian. Vivian, this is my father."

There's so much of Rick I see in him: the oval-shaped head; the pointy, medium-sized nose; the brown eyes; and the smile. His brown hair is silvering along the edges, and there are a few wrinkles in his forehead, but he and Rick are the same. Mr. Murray is only maybe an inch or two taller than his son, which explains why Rick is so short.

I force a smile: even this takes a lot of effort from me. "Thank you for saving me. You and Rick both."

"Don't thank me for something like this." He says warmly. "I'd do it anytime." He walks towards me. "We need to get you inside before you catch a cold."

He unstraps the backpack from my back and leads Rick and me to his house. Rick keeps his arm around my shoulders as I shiver the entire trek back.

The Murray Living Room is still a warm and inviting sight, especially with the rain pattering peacefully outside against the window panes. Rick leads me upstairs to his bedroom where everything is in perfect order—until you look at his desk. Notebook papers and worksheets bury the table top like a giant, white trash heap. He gestures for me to sit at the foot of his bed as I shiver in my wet clothes in spite of removing my soaked raincoat. I watch him walk to his dresser drawer and pull out a read t-shirt with a crew neck and a plaid, button down colored red and white.

"I know these probably won't fit very well," Rick hands me his clothes, "but these are the smallest articles that I own, and they're nice and dry. There's a bathroom right next to my room a little down the hall where you can change."

I nod. "Thanks."

He replies with a shy smile. "I'd be quick about it. An ambulance or a firetruck should be here any minute, and they'll need to know if you're okay or not." He joins me on the bed. "A-are you okay?" I can see into his soul through his piercing, warm brown eyes.

"Being alive is beyond okay." I reply. "Especially since it's my good friend who saved me." Holding the side of Rick's face, I kiss his soft cheek slowly. There's so much warmth in his cheeks that I can feel it tingling my lips and spreading to my face. "A part from a little headache, I'm fine." I say softly.

Rick's smile grows. "I'd save you a thousand times over." He wipes a smudge of dirt off my cheek with his thumb. "Go clean up, m'lady. I'll be here when you come back." His thumb caresses my cheek delicately.

"Don't worry. I can't WAIT to get out of these clothes." I chuckle as I stand up.

Rick's face turns pink as he smiles nervously up at me. There he goes again, I wave at him before heading down the hall. Is he imagining me without any clothes on? I let out a soft giggle. Rick, you're supposed to be a gentleman.

As soon as I close the door to the bathroom, I pull up the pants leg on my left. Just as I suspected: the rat that bit me re-opened the cut on my shin, causing it to bleed once more. There's more of a sting this time, and hard to ignore. I'll have to ask for some ointment—again. Impulsively, I bring my hand up to the spot where Rick touched my cheek with his thumb. He's so gentle and so sweet. No wonder Terri liked him so much. And Ivory.

I freeze. No way. I'm not supposed to like Rick this way, even though I always have liked him a little bit: I can't think straight if I have a crush on him! I can't accurately prove that he's a better human than last year. Oh, well. You like him. You know you do. Hastily I take off my sweater and put on Rick's red shirt. It's not too big, I think. It makes sense: Rick's a little guy anyway, which means he had to have been smaller before now.

Little enough for a petite girl like me to cuddle with.

What's wrong with me? I can't stop thinking about this kid! In THAT way! It's not helping that I'm in his house wearing his clothes! I'm engulfed in Rick's presence. I shrug. Whatever. I can't stay in my clothes without catching pneumonia. Anyone else would loan me their clothes as well. I put on the long-sleeved button down that matches the shirt and my black pants (conveniently). Next I go to the sink and rinse my face off in nice, warm water. As I clean myself up, another thought nags at me: Does he like me too? He calls me "m'lady" constantly, and what he said to me before I fell into the well is stuck in my head, however peculiar it was to say.

"When you speak, I listen. You're my guide."

What was that supposed to mean? I'm his "guide"? Define that for me: I guess it's because I talk to him whenever he's in a crappy mood. It's hard being someone like Rick: constantly reminded of something that happened in the past that he can't fix. Maybe we all didn't push a girl into a coma, but there have been cases of people murdering other people, and they manage to rehabilitate and change their ways? A lot of students at Degrassi are too one-sided about the issue to see that. He's sweet. He's (now) gentle, and he's sincere. Why can't everyone see his good qualities? That's what I can do! I'll write a list of all of the good qualities that describe Rick. The qualities that he needs to be known for. He saved my life. He took the initiative and came out to rescue me himself without waiting for emergency services to arrive. How can I ever think horribly about him?

I'd be like Antony from Julius Caesar who spoke at Caesar's funeral, Caesar in contrast to what the conspirators thought of him: "He gave me advice for my student council interview, consoled me while I was grieving for my mother, and saved me from drowning. Is that crude? But Spinner/Jay/Alex say he's a psycho. And Spinner/Jay/Alex are 'honorable students'."

Point made.

The small things like cleaning up make me feel significantly better than I did before—and significantly sleepier. I'll have to ask Rick about a place where I can nap momentarily before my dad arrives. As I walk into his room, however, I find him absent. Rick...?He must have gone downstairs for something. I stare at the bed that suddenly looks cozy to me: warm and soft. I'll just nap temporarily. Rick isn't here, and neither is anyone else. Can't they wake me up if my dad comes? I'm just so tired...

I cave into my drowsiness and take off my damp socks. I pull the plaid comforter and white sheets back and climb in underneath. Forgive me, Rick. Cautiously I lay my head on his pillow, worn flat from use, and yet it's still so soft. As I plant my face into the pillow, I pick up the scent of Rick's hair.

As weird as it feels to sleep in my guy friend's bed, I'm too exhausted to care. A crescendo of footsteps catch my ear, but before I can see who it is, I sink into a blissful, wonderful slumber.

For a brief moment in unconsciousness, I think I hear a smooth whisper in my ear. Perhaps I'm dreaming, but the words being uttered are real enough to make the hairs on my spine stand.

My sweet, little Vivian.