Fucking Gravity

Chapter 8

I watch the little group of Specials huddled around some locker that probably doesn't even belong to any of them. It's Friday again, and Kim is going out with Jared since I infringed on most of their weekend last time. She didn't outright put it that way, but I can tell they are wanting some 'alone' time, and I really don't want to third wheel on that, even if the other option is going home.

Or is it? I hesitate a moment before drawing closer to the group. Words immediately break off as I get within hearing range, and attention turns to me like the flip of a switch. It feels odd having all their attention on me.

"What's up, Fay?" Kim asks, which is reasonable. The only time I've ever approached this group is if I was coming over to talk to her.

"Um, well," I twist my jacket sleeve uncomfortably before turning to Leah. "Are you busy today?"

Her body jerks as if my words are physical blows, and she straightens up.

"No," she says quickly, face breaking out into an ecstatic grin.

"But, don't you have-" Seth starts and is cut off when Leah's fist backhands him in the stomach without even blinking.

The following scuffle is both bewildering and amusing. When Seth returns the assault with his own punch, she finally turns to him with a glare and they exchange several jabbing blows. It's a little concerning, too, because it doesn't look like they are pulling their punches.

Leah wins the exchange when Jared lets out a sigh before stepping away from Kim and stuffing the freshman's head into his armpit.

Leah turns back to me with a victorious smile. "No," she says again, "I'm not busy today." At least, not anymore.

"Then, well," I glance at the enraptured audience of large boys (and my manically grinning friend), and Leah seems to understand my unease because she steps away from them, leading us several feet away. "Do you maybe want to go do something with me?"

"Absolutely," she says immediately, shouldering her bag. It had slipped a bit during that scuffle with her brother. "What did you have in mind?" she asks.

"Ah, well, I don't really know," I admit, rubbing the back of my neck. I hadn't gotten to that part of the plan after approaching and asking. "Anything to just get out of the house."

"Hiking?" she suggests, and I remember her telling me something about liking to hike (and falling asleep in the woods?).

"Are you kidding? It's freezing," I shiver just thinking about it. Camping would be even more miserable than normal if I could still get away with it.

"Right, it's cold outside," Leah mutters, glancing around at the people shivering in their marshmallow jackets as we wander down the school steps outside. "Movie, then?" she asks instead, perking up. "I can borrow my mom's car and we can go into town."

"Sure," I smile hesitantly, hoping she didn't mean it as a date. Did I accidently ask her out on a date? No, she offered friendship, and Kim and I go to the movies at least every other month. Movies don't mean date. "Let me call my dad and let him know."

He doesn't answer, though, and it goes straight to voicemail like the last few times I've called him to ask permission to do something. I leave a message letting him know where I'll be, so he can check the validity later if he really wants to. I feel shaky as I hang up, and I wonder if I should be avoiding the house this weekend. I get the heavy dread instinct that he's about to snap.

"Alright, let's go," I offer a half-hearted smile.

The one and only movie theater in Forks isn't really a movie theater. It only has two screens and only plays older movies that have already been retired from the big screen. This weekend is apparently Harry Potter weekend, and we get there just before the start of the second movie.

Being the only theater-type place in town and it being a Friday night, I'm surprised we manage to get tickets. "So is Harry Potter one of the fantasy books you've read?" Leah asks as we pick our way through the crowded rows. The seats we manage to find are at the very edge, close to the front, and aren't very good. But I do like Harry Potter, and I find myself relaxing into the frayed seats as the lights in the room darken.

"Yeah. Read them back in fifth grade, and then again in nineth." It has very little romance at all until the last two books and, even then it didn't dominate the story at all. And quite honestly, I think that Harry would have been a much better choice for Hermione than Ron ever was. The redhead was just too jealous and too self-involved most of the time.

"I only made it halfway through the first book, myself, before I got distracted," Leah admits sheepishly. "But I did like the movies. Who's your favorite character?"

"Luna Lovegood. She's an oddball, but I love her."

"I liked Fred and George," Leah admits, and I grin. The twins were pretty great too.

"What house are you? Gryffindor, am I right?" I feel absolutely certain she is a lion- brash and brave.

"Guilty," she laughs, stuffing an entire fist full of popcorn in her mouth. "What about you. Ravenclaw?" she guesses.

"Slytherin." My smile dims, becoming wry.

"Really?" Leah asks, surprised. "I didn't take you for a snake."

"What, cunning and ambitious?" I tease, and it's hard to see in the dark theater, but it looks like she blushes.

"Well, ah," she fiddles with the popcorn bucket. "I meant evil, but I guess that's my Gryffindor prejudice getting the better of me."

She means she didn't think I'd be the type of person willing to step on someone else to further my ambition. And I'm not, I don't think. But I can, and do, manipulate situations sometimes. After all, the only reason I'm here in this theater right now is because it keeps me away from home.

Some asshole behind us leans forward between our chairs and shushes us. I bite my lips as Leah throws her next hand of popcorn at him before stuffing another one in her mouth. She ignores his offended exclamation, and I turn my amusement to the opening scene of Harry at the Dursleys.

We watch two movies before deciding to leave the theater. "Do you, ah, wanna watch another? Or, do something else?" she asks hopefully, standing next to the small ticket booth in the lobby.

I look down at my phone, seeing the time and complete lack of messages other than Kim asking how it's going. My stomach churns a bit, and feels like the popcorn in my stomach is having a second go at popping. Instinct tells me that I should get home early today. That I should face him now (or never again). It will only be worse if I drag it out, and I'd have the entire weekend to recover.

"I should… I should get home," I say, tucking my phone away. She looks disappointed, but she offers a smile anyway.

"Okay," she nods, unquestioning, and leads the way out into the night. She seems to come alive again. "Alright, favorite movie- go," Leah says, walking backwards through the dark parking lot. She seems lighter, more relaxed, and happiness shines in her eyes as she looks at me intently. A thick cloud of fog blows past her lips as she talks, but she seems completely unbothered by the cold.

"Easy: Half-blood Prince," I say, letting myself fall into the moment just a little while longer. It's strange being like this around her: casual, relaxed. "Because it's the one Dumbledore dies in."

"It's your favorite because Dumbledore dies?" Leah gasps, shocked. "But he's such a kindly old grandpa!"

"Dumbledore is a manipulative bastard," I retort with maybe a little more passion than a fantasy story deserves.

When Leah tilts her head in question, I can't help delving into this bit of a sore topic. I climb into the passenger seat, buckling quickly so that I can use all the frustrated hand gestures that I want.

"Everything he does in the story is to manipulate and use Harry. He puts Harry with his magic hating relatives, who were estranged from his parents to begin with, after being warned against it from McGonagall who only had to watch them for one day to realize it was a bad idea. You can't tell me Dumbledore didn't know Harry was being abused either, because his Hogwarts letting was addressed to the cupboard under the stairs, Harry told him outright that they didn't treat him well, begging him not to make him go home every summer, and every school year he came back at least 10 pounds lighter than when he left. No, Dumbledore knew and I think he did it on purpose just so Harry would be oh-so-grateful and mailable to the great Albus Dumbledore who, in a young boys eyes, 'saved him' from his dreaded muggle relatives and introduced him to an entirely new world. He did it to manipulate the prophecy, a prophecy he himself admitted was entirely self-fulfilling, and build up a child soldier. I even bet that the 'bad luck' every year were just tests to get Harry ready for the final battle- get him to think of himself as the hero who needs to save everyone because he's been doing it since he was 11 years old. You can't tell me that a 12 year-old figured out that it was a Basilisk before any adult, that Dumbledore didn't bring the stone to Hogwarts in the hopes that Harry and Voldewart would face off, that he couldn't have gotten Sirius a trial (unless he didn't want him to be found innocent and take custody of Harry), and all of the trials after. Dumbledore thought it all out, moving his pieces like a game of chess."

Leah blinks widely at the windshield as she takes a turn into a familiar neighborhood. "Wow," she says. "That was… Wow, that was a lot."

"Sorry," I blush suddenly, tugging anxiously at a lock of my hair. I can't believe I just geeked like that. I've only ever ranted like that to Kim.

"No, no," Leah quickly reassures, and parks in front of my house. "I've never seen you get so passionate about anything before. Well, except when you went off on how much you hated me. I definitely like this instance better."

I stare up at my looming home, looking innocent and normal. There is a light on in the kitchen.

"I never hated you, Leah," I tell her as my stomach writhes in the gut instinct to just run.

"But you feared me," she states without question.

"Yes," I admit. I'd already said as much to her, before. I told her outright that she terrified me; there's no point in denying it now.

"Do I still scare you?" she asks lowly, and I finally drag my gaze from the house to meet her already staring eyes. They bore into me with so many heavy emotions I can't even begin sorting or disseminating them.

My heart jolts under the weight of her feelings, and I don't know if it's fear, or the shadow of my old crush trying to fight its way back into my consciousness.

"You make me uneasy," I settle on, and she nods, finally breaking her scrutiny to look up at my house.

I should get out. I know I should, but I just linger there, frozen, trying to talk my body into just moving.

"We could go do something else," Leah offers when I still don't make a move to get out of her mom's car.

"No, I- I should go." I finally reach for the handle, and tug it with numb fingers. I feel my mind already starting to distance itself from my body. I don't dissociate often, and I don't know if I prefer it or not.

Leah clambers out her door as I do, and I glance over. She lingers, wedged between the door and the car as if she's not sure if she's supposed to walk me to the door or not. It's not a date, though, and she remains rooted there as I make my way up the walk.

"Hey, Fay?" she calls just as I make it to the fist step, and I turn. Her fingers tap erratically on the roof of the vehicle. "The next time that we hang out… Do you still wanna know? Why I've become the way I am?"

I still feel distant, even though I know that this is important. Something about this is very important, but my feelings are buried and gone, floating off in oblivion, out of reach. My lips move without thought.

"It's not drugs?"

"It's not drugs," she confirms, and I stare at her tap, tap, tapping, finger.

"Okay," I say, because what else is there to say when I'm not really here anymore? Then I turn and finally push into the house.

I find my father immediately. He's in the kitchen eating dinner, and he looks up as I walk in.

"I got your message," he says slowly, that way he does when I just know he's got a bone to pick with me.

"You asked me to let you know where I was. You can talk to Leah's mom if you want-"

"Don't patronize me!" He slams his fists down on the counter, making his entire plate jump and his steak knife to clatter to the floor.

I was scared before. Now I'm empty. We stare at each other across the kitchen for a few silent moments.

"Come here," he says tightly, a false calm projected in his voice, and my body moves on autopilot to do as he says. "Hands," he points at the table.

My one arm is still in the brace, so I only offer my good hand, palm down next to his plate. It's tense and trembles, but I don't feel it. His fist slams down suddenly on the back of my hand, and I instinctively yank the limb to my chest before the pain can even register. Then I'm fully disconnected from my body, unaware, gone, gone, gone.


A/N: I've actually seen that hand thing happen to a friend of mine several times with his dad. How do you guys feel about corporal punishment? Let me know what you think.

Also, what do you guys think about Dumbledore? I used to actually kind of like him until I started reading fanfiction, haha. Happy New Year!

~Silver~