"Heath! Heath! Come back!" Winnifred skidded around the corner and banged her back against the wall. Heath, leaning against it and shuffling his cards, glanced at her. His eyes twinkled with merriment. Winnifred angrily slashed her hair behind her shoulder.
"Are you an idiot? Are you purposely trying to get expelled?"
"Course not," Heath quickly smiled and, looking over her shoulder, tossed the cigarette on the floor, pressed it with his foot.
"Do you think Mrs. Edwards saw?"
"Along with the entire classroom?" Winnifred hardly specified, raising her eyebrows.
"Oh come on," Heath swatted her away, leaning on the wall and relaxing her shoulders.
"I just wanted to have a little fun—"
"A little fun?! By hanging a rat on the lamp over her head?!"
"Damn it, Freddie, who told you this?" Heath seemed offended. "Billy? Riley? Because first of all, it was a chinchilla, second of all, it was dead, and third, someone has to rattle math out of its tight core!"
"It was Mark," Winnifred grumbled. Heath snorted. The bell rang, signifying the end of fourth period. Heath chuckled, shaking his head, and walked out of the corner. Winnifred, still slightly fuming, followed him. Students pushed beside them, hurrying to their classes. Heath stopped next to his lockless locker, swiftly pushing up the metal hanger, and swinging the door open. Winnifred softly leaned next to his door, indifferently observing him. Heath, quietly humming, took out a couple of notebooks, before frowning, and replacing the red one with a green one.
"Quite a chaos you caused during math, eh Heath?"
Heath, with raised eyebrows, turned around. Winnifred lowered her head, hiding her displeasure and desperation. Jack was standing there, his snakish grin twisting his thin lips.
"I think you're a bit exaggerating" Heath calmly inquired, looking down at his books and arranging them. He sighed and lifted his head.
"Just a couple of exclamations, that's all."
"Well, well," Jack smirked. "Tomorrow's the 16th. Do you know what happens that day?"
"Life suddenly stops making sense?"
Winnifred wrinkled her brows and looked up at Heath. Life makes sense?! Meanwhile, Jack triumphantly sneered.
"Tomorrow's tax collection. Father meant to remind you."
Winnifred cautiously glanced at Heath. He continued smiling.
"Well then, remind your blesséd pops that I'd be honored to show him my taxes," his smile turned dangerous.
"And if your dad tries to drag me into court, I'll have him eating your shit."
Jack's smug features melted like lava into cold rock.
"Heath," Winnifred quietly said.
"What, Freddie?" Heath harshly responded, not looking away from Jack. "I already pay for my bloody education, now they want to strip me off for an abandoned mill? I would not have some puny elites tell me around."
A bulky junior stepped out out of Jack's shoulder and crashed his fist into Heath's nose. Heath stumbled back in surprise, hitting hard into the lockers. For a split second, Winnifred covered her mouth, before lunging forward. Another muscular junior grabbed her from the behind, instantly the air out of her lungs. The sudden commotion was replaced by just as sudden silence. Heath wordlessly touched his nose with the tips of his fingers, observing the red droplets. His eyes flickered back at Jack, a few steps away from his previous position. Browning was heavily breathed, eyes feverishly ignited.
"Let her go," Heath quietly said, lowering his hand and taking one step towards Browning. Jack snorted, coldly observing Heath's features.
"Like hell I would."
The junior punched Winnifred into the stomach. The girl winced. Heath wordlessly grabbed Jack by the collar and threw him against the lockers. The silence shattered. The junior let out his grasp in surprise; Winnifred used the moment to wriggle out and run over to Heath, mercilessly punching Jack with whatever he could.
"Heath!" Heath skillfully ignored her. Another notebook landed on Jack's face.
"Heath, please," Winnifred pleaded, leaning down and tugging Heath away by the shoulders.
"Mr. Heath!" The tenth grade dean, Mrs. Feingold, furiously rushed through the bystander crowd.
"Excuse me, Clara, Jennifer….beg your pardon….Mr. Hardy, please turn in your cigarettes…"
The forty-five year old woman stopped next to Winnifred, staring at the crime scene in loss. The binder, lifted in midair, halted, and Heath looked back over his shoulder. The crowd stared back at him. Heath slowly licked his upper gum, before dropping the binder on Jack's bloodied face and standing up, wiping his hand and glancing at the dean.
"I'm sorry, Mrs. Feingold, I was just practicing for my physical education exam."
"To my office, Heath," Mrs. Feingold coldly ordered. She transferred her stern gaze on Winnifred.
"And where you should be going, Miss Lewly?"
"I….yes, ma'am," Winnifred pressed her lips together, and quickly pushed out of the crowd. Mrs. Feingold looked the final time on Jack, sprawled on the floor, before shifting her gaze on Billy, standing nearby and unperturbed smoking cigarettes.
"Mr. Hardy, help Mr. Browning to the office. And, for the final time, turn in the cigarettes."
The next day was bright. The ocean harshly stroke the eye with its azure colors, brightly gleaming in the sun. Its surface slightly vibrated in tranquil.
Suddenly, the smooth ocean surface was erupted by splashes and shouts. Two young women ran through the seaside, foam kicking at their feet and waves exploding at their legs. Winnifred, choking from laughter, splashed sea water onto Margaret's dress. Her cousin didn't lag behind; an entire tsunami Freddie her in the face. Suffocating from indignation, laughing to the point it hurt her in the ribs, Winnifred clumsily stumbled over to her laughing cousin, she roughly grabbed her by the arm, sending them both tumbling into water. The sea water bitterly stung them in the eyes, leaving an unpleasant taste in their mouths and throats. Scrambling out of the water, Winnifred collapsed into the wet sand, face first. Margaret heavily breathed next to her. Winnifred, tightening her lazy muscles, abruptly rolled onto her back. The blue sky winked back at her. It has been two weeks, the beginning of third. After the first week and all of the Horner procedures, the girls took their chance to relax, wildly running around the coast line every day. After the fountain-cafe scene, Winnifred haven't really seen Browning. On their small encounters when they did meet, he was exceptionally polite and amiable. But Winnifred couldn't get rid of that suppressed premonition and guilt which followed her like a shadow.
"What are you thinking about?" Margaret sat down next to her, looking down at her with a smile. Winnifred made a face and wiped her face from the sand. Good try, even more sand, now from the hand, stuck on her cheeks.
"I wish Heath and Johnathan would be here," she quietly said.
"They would absolutely love it." Margaret sighed and looked away. Winnifred knew she couldn't do anything about it, but still wanted to here some sort of support from her cousin. But what support could she give, really? Winnifred sighed. Margaret turned to her.
"Why don't you write to them?" She proposed. Winnifred grimaced. She would've. If not of Heath of course. It was his idea, after all.
"I can't," she confessed. Margaret snorted.
"Idiots," she commented,"Your fault. Suffer then." Winnifred pressed her lips together, but smiled.
"You know, Margaret, sometimes you..." She trailed off and shook her head. Margaret grinned, then stood up.
"Hey, Freddie, Auntie wanted you to go to the local market. Salmon, potatoes and lettuce."
"Oh crap," Winnifred sighed, but stood up. Grains of sand crumbled of her, coated in sand, calves. Her colorful, wet dress clasped around her legs, tiny rivulets streaming down from the hems. She quickly grabbed her swampy-green jacket and tossed it over her shoulder.
"Alrighty then. Salmon, potatoes, and lettuce?"
"That's right, soldier," Margaret cheerfully confirmed, walking down towards the road with her. The women stepped on the dusty road, the edges of the small rocks crumbling into their feet. Thinking to herself, Winnifred absently whistled, swinging her jacket around.
"Why am I always the soldier? I would assume that after twenty two years I would be at least promoted to a Lieutenant."
"Because you don't learn," Margaret smirked, giving Winnifred a loaded, knowing stare. Winnifred snorted, obviously disagreeing with the verdict. The women reached the fork in the road. Margaret waved to Winnifred, before walking to the right. Winifred smiled and for a few moments, watched how her cousin diminishes from a figure to a small dot in the distance. Then, she abruptly turned around and walked down the road. The wind flapped her wet, clingy dress against her legs.
The market was relatively abandoned, a couple of stalls open and somewhat filled with food. Winnifred examined the fish, wondering how truthful the saleswoman was when she said that the fish was this morning's. To be honest, if Winnifred worked as a saleswoman, she would probably also say that the four-day fish was freshly caught.
"Winnifred!"
Winnifred spun around and quickly faked a smile.
"Jack," she politely greeted him. With a smile and hands in his coat pockets, Jack walked up to her and nodded towards the fish.
"Prepping for dinner?"
"Yes, my aunt sent me," Winnifred amiably replied, fingers trifling with the plastic bag in her hands.
"Your aunt," Jack softly smirked. "Every action you do seem to have one patron — you aunt."
Winnifred pressed her lips together, facing back over to the fish, not sure what to say. Any uncomfortable, scratching feeling nagged in her throat. The saleswoman boringly lifted her heavy eyelids on Winnifred.
"Decided, miss?"
"Yes. The one in the uppermost right corner, please."
The saleswoman indifferently plopped the piece of fish on the weights, before slowly wrapping it into some paper.
"Sixteen ninety nine."
"Twenty. No change." Winnifred tiredly handed over the dollar bill and, placing her fish into the plastic bag, started walking back towards the road. Jack hurriedly followed her, gently touching her by the arm.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to hurt you," he quickly said. Winnifred shot a sarcastic look at him, before lowering her gaze back to the ground.
"Oh, it's okay. You also have a pretty stable patron."
"You think so?" Jack's lips stretched into a broad grin. Winnifred nodded, face absolutely serious.
"Of course. Two, actually. Arrogance and insolence. Never fail to sponsor you."
Jack laughed, shaking his head; he didn't notice Winifred's eyes dash at him, frowning in displeasure.
"Oh, you're a funny individual," Jack finally said, wiping the corners of his eyes.
Winnifred silently raised her eyebrows, deciding not to mention that she was always that way. She felt uncomfortable; high school memories, like on a tape recorder, flipped in front of her vision, pouring caution and uneasiness into her muscles, painfully flexing once Jack stepped too close. They stepped down the rocks to the beach, the damp, dark sand immediately engulfing Winnifred's toes. Grim, Winnifred strolled down the shoreline, hands, along with the bag of fish, tucked into her swampy-green jacket pockets Jack walked next to her, occasionally glancing in her direction.
"You do not want to speak with me?" He quietly asked. Winnifred lowered her eyes on the sand, before looking back up again.
"It was unnecessary to follow me back home. I could've walked down myself."
"I would not have if I didn't have a reason to."
"Well? What is it?" Winnifred coldly replied, eyes wandering around the cliffs. Jack faintly smirked.
"Do you still hate me?"
They walked up to a fence. Winnifred stopped and turned around. A sly smile crept over her face, her eyes sharp as pins.
"What if I say yes?" She grinned, the wind breezing her hair over her face. Jack softly chuckled, resting his elbows on the fence and gazing into the raging, steel ocean.
"I doubt you will. That would be quite foolish of you."
"You're right," Winnifred said after a moment if silence. "That would be foolish. But sometimes you have to play the role of a fool to fool the fool who thinks he's fooling you."
"What?" Jack frowned, a shadow like a bird, hovering over his face.
"I'm a fool, and I say yes," Winnifred enunciated, slowly turning her face towards Jack. It was darkly grinning. Jack smirked, tilting his head.
"How brave and stupid," he quietly remarked. "No matter Heath's so into you. You guys are perfect for each other."
"So are you," Winnifred angrily snapped back. "Except if we're stupid and brave, you're just stupid. You were always a coward, and time didn't seem to beat that shit out of you!"
"Really?" Jack dangerously asked, but Winnifred didn't care to notice.
"Actually yes," she snorted. "I'm brave because I at least say that I hate you. You don't even say that, instead trying to fake it under some misplaced decency!"
"So you call saying foolish things bravery?" Jack raised his eyebrows.
"I'm just referencing you, Jack. Brave and stupid, remember?"
Winnifred started walking again, hoping Jack wouldn't follow her again. He didn't.
A/N Any guesses on who this Mr. Hardy with the cigarettes may be? I mentioned him quite a couple times in the previous chapter. Not that it's important to the plot anyway, but it's still fun to throw in some references here and there, especially if it's going to be explained in the next chapters ;)
Man, Winnifred has no patience with Jack...