Merci, thank you so much for your kind response and encouragement. Hoping you like this chapter. Hoping characterization is still fine and my English isn't too bad. All mistakes are my own!
"So what classes you doing?" Harley asked, interested, on the walk towards home, hefting the strap of her school bag over her shoulder.
J walked beside her, joining her at a slow, leisurely pace down the street, dragging his feet. Every now and then, he'd kick at a loose rock on the ground with the sole of his big combat boots. He wasn't much of a talker, though Harley had already established that pretty much since the first moment she'd introduced herself to him yesterday.
She found herself mostly being the one initiating all the questions while he seemed content to just be quiet.
He turned to look at her, his mouth agape in confusion. "Classes?"
"Yeah, like... what classes are you doing?" When he brought up a hand to scratch at his chin, still confused, she giggled, astounded. "Ya know, from your timetable?"
"Timetable?" His face suddenly flickered in understanding. "Oh, yeah. Ya mean the paper thing they give out on the first day?"
"Yeah, the paper thing," she played along, laughing again. "The paper thing that tells ya what classes you have each week. The timetable."
"Oh, that. I kinda lit it on fire and threw it away. It burned real good."
She stared at his face, watching him incredulously. She couldn't tell whether he was making a joke or not, but seeing how serious he looked when he glanced ahead of them down the street, Harley realized he was being serious. He'd actually lit his timetable on fire. She wasn't sure whether to laugh or to be amazed.
"So what's with them girls?" he asked bluntly, changing the subject.
Harley felt her stomach roll in unease at the topic. She didn't really like talking about it. On most occasions, she just tried to pretend it never happened. "It always happens with them. They just like to pick on me, I guess." She shrugged, glancing down at the ground. "I guess I'm not normal enough or cool enough for them, so they like to make fun of me, 'cause I'm different, I suppose." She could go all day wondering why the girls picked on her. Then, half the time, Harley decided wondering was pointless. If those girls didn't like her and wanted to make her life a living hell, then what gives? Why try to look for a good enough reason?
"What's not normal or uncool about ya?"
Harley's eyes flickered over to his face at the question. It was the first time somebody had ever said something fairly nice to her, disputing what she knew everybody else in school thought.
"Everything, apparently." She covered her pain with a forced laugh. "But I don't care what them girls think anyway. I try not to let 'em get to me. I figure they're just so unhappy with their own lives, that they've got to have somebody out there to take it out on. Like they're bullying me just to make themselves feel better, ya know?"
"Well, I, uh..." He paused, clearing his throat gruffly. She could tell what he was about to say made him feel uncomfortable. He wouldn't even look her way, keeping his grey eyes forward as his pale cheeks reddened slightly. "I think ya both pretty cool and normal."
"Really? Ya think I'm cool?" Harley's voice was shaky and emotional as she stared at the side of his face, her face glowing hot. She was radiant with happiness, too touched by his compliment. "But ya only just met me barely a day ago?"
He jerked his shoulder nonchalantly, a strand of green fringe falling into his eyes as he amended hastily, "Exactly. I mean that ya, um, seem pretty cool and normal from what I can tell, anyway."
Harley was grinning so hard she could feel her cheeks start to hurt. "Well, thanks. Nobody has ever really said such nice stuff to me before."
"Yeah, well. Ya don't got to make such a big deal out of it. I was just saying." He met her eyes briefly before he glanced away again, jerking his head, the muscles in his throat twitching as he swallowed loudly. "Not that I ain't meaning what I said about ya being cool. I mean, I don't just sweet-talk somebody for the hell of it. I'm not sweet-talking or anything like that..." He pressed his lips together, as if to stop himself from rambling on. Harley found it strangely endearing, how uncomfortable he was. But she assumed, that was boys for you; They couldn't handle saying nice things or talking about feelings. She decided she could have listened to his coarse, deep voice all day. Just like yesterday, she was met with the impression that his voice should belong to someone far older than eighteen.
"Well, J, I think ya pretty cool, too," she murmured, that strange shy feeling overcoming her again. "And what you did with stupid Lauren in the hallway..." She smiled to herself, shaking her head at the memory. How Lauren and all of her friends were quiet the instance J laughed in a silly, fake way behind them. Then how he got real close to their faces, making them squeamish and nervous. "That was so cool! The looks on their faces!"
"Oh, girls like them..." He trailed off deeply, and when Harley brought her eyes over to him, she was struck by how grim he looked as he tilted his head back, peering up at the clouds forming in the sky. His jaw muscles contracted as he squeezed out through gritted teeth maliciously, "Girls like them, ya just wanna... murder."
Murder? Her brows furrowed as she swallowed, unnerved by his seemingly severe change of mood. "Murder?" she repeated, unsure whether to laugh. "Ya want to murder them?"
"What? Don't even you think about it sometimes? What it'd be like, murdering 'em? Just... girls like them? Or just even... people? What it'd be like?"
It was a heavy subject to speak about. Tightening the strap of her bag over her shoulder, she moved a hand down, playing with the bracelet on her wrist. She couldn't say she'd thought about it much before. "I've never really wondered about it all that much," she admitted. "But sometimes, when things get real bad with Lauren teasing me, I'd think about doing something terrible to her. Only when she's pushed me far enough, though. Like she's spread rumors around school that I'm a lesbian, and one time, she cornered me in the bathroom with her friends and tried to shove my head down the toilet. After those times, I'd definitely felt tempted to do something real bad to her."
"So why Harley?" How fast he was to divert the subject, it startled her. "Why the name Harley? Are ya parents nuts over motorcycles or something?"
She laughed, admittedly relieved for the subject change. Talking about Lauren, about murder, it felt too dismal and serious for her liking. "Ya not the first person who's asked me that, whether my parents called me Harley due to the bike," she explained, grinning. "But remember, like I told ya yesterday, my full name is actually Harleen, not Harley. I've just always liked being called Harley better."
"Ya right. Harley's way better than Harleen. Harleen's way too... old-fashioned." He made a comical face of disgust, causing Harley to giggle again. "Like for a grandma or a grown-up or something." She thought she saw his grey eyes brighten every time she laughed; As though he was glad he had the ability to make her laugh. "Glad I amuse ya so much," he added under his breath, though he didn't smile.
Harley couldn't decide whether he was hinting at being offended or not. "Aw, I don't mean to laugh at ya like I think you're silly or anything like that. I'm just not used to people actually wanting to talk to me. As ya can probably already tell, I don't get friends to talk to all that much."
"Well, Harley, ya got one now," he said casually. And as the words sunk in and she finally grasped what he had meant, she beamed happily.
Friends was not a concept she was all that familiar with. Her smile grew so wide that her lips began to get all twitchy at the pain of smiling so hard.
"Really?" she asked, a hint of doubt there. "So ya gonna be my friend?"
"Yeah, sure." He seemed indifferent, as though he didn't care either way. "Why not?" But it was still nice.
She wondered if she was coming across as too desperate for him to like her. It was just, in her way of thinking, for so long, it had felt as though the entire world were against her. She had felt so completely alone for such a long period of time that it was amazing, having the experience now, in having someone like J speaking to her and walking home with her.
Even if he had only offered simply because he lived next-door to her and because he had to walk home that way himself, even if it was simply as a way to pass the time rather than actually in the aim of befriending her, it was still unbelievable, talking to someone. Especially someone older like him, someone eighteen, someone with a tattoo. To have someone wanting to actually be friends with her, it made her feel giddy.
She lifted a hand, raking her fingers through the end strands of her hair as she saw him watch her out of the corner of her eye. She tried to stop smiling, trying to straighten her mouth out. Only it didn't stay that way for too long. Barely ten seconds later, she was grinning again.
"So, ya like cotton candy or something?"
Harley swallowed, staring at him with squinted eyes in confusion. "Huh?"
"Ya hair, I mean." As a way to emphasize the question, he reached over, tugging a little at a wayward strand of dyed blue hair between his thumb and a heavily ringed forefinger meaningfully. Harley felt herself flush furiously at the cheeks, but the touch was brief, ending just as quickly as he had done it. He pulled his hand away, clutching her books again. "Looks like cotton candy, the... colors. Ya big on cotton candy?"
"Um, sure. I guess I like cotton candy. It's not the reason why I wanted to dye my hair, though." Hoping it would impress him, she continued haughtily, "I kinda just wanted to piss my mother and my father off. They were so mad when they found out I'd done it, but it was... fun, doing something on purpose that I knew they wouldn't be too happy about." Her voice shook and was scratchy with glee at remembering her mother's reaction, at how her father had demanded she try wash the dye out of her hair, only to learn it was permanent. "I wanted to get back at them, ya know?"
J grunted in response, nodding.
"So why'd ya decide to move here, of all places?" she asked, hoping she sounded unexcited by the former comment made of them being friends that was still fluttering by inside her head.
"It wasn't my decision. It was my old man's, and whatever he does, I gotta do it, too. Not sure I'm liking it here, though." She noticed J sounded abrupt on the topic of his father, as though he didn't particularly like speaking of him much. Harley couldn't blame him if he felt that way, though. She didn't particularly enjoy the idea of speaking about her mother and father to him, either.
"Ya picked a lousy area to live in then. It can be real boring here. Nothing happens all that much."
"Yeah? Why are you here then?"
"Because its practically where I was born. I guess my parents have never felt like moving. Guess they're happy living here."
Playing with the bracelet on her wrist again, she turned to look at him, studying him while they walked. She hadn't noticed it yesterday, probably because she hadn't been close enough to get a good look at him, but Harley thought she saw a dark area beneath the corner of his right eyelid. Was it a bruise? A bruise that was slowly beginning to heal? Harley wasn't a stranger to the appearance of bruises, especially after the treatment she'd get from her mother on a regular basis. It definitely looked like a bruise.
"What's with under your eye?" Harley asked before she could stop herself. She had never been good with being tactful. Her curiosity always won out. "Ya got a bruise there or something?"
She could immediately tell he wasn't happy with her asking. He brought up a hand, touching the darkened spot beneath his eye with the tips of his forefinger and middle finger lightly, delicately, as though it was still tender to the touch. J's demeanor changed in rapid succession, alarming her. His shoulders tensed, his jaw tightened.
"Anybody ever tell ya to mind your own business before?" he muttered under his breath, his voice going sharp and deeper in irritation.
Getting him mad was the last thing she had wanted to do. "Oh, no. I... I never meant nothing by it." She smiled apologetically. "It's just that... I was just wondering what happened to ya eye, that's all. It looks real... sore." Clearly, J felt sensitive about it. Harley wondered if he went through the same thing she did, with her parents. Did his old man beat on him sometimes as punishment, too?
The rest of the walk was spent in a strange silence. Harley could feel the tension, the rage simmering off J over her bringing the topic up. Every time she glanced his way, she could see he was staring fixedly ahead, refusing to look at her. He'd just switch sides with carrying her heavy textbooks, his eyes narrowed. Sometimes she thought she would hear him sigh loudly through his nose. It was clear to her that she had ruined it, that he now no longer wanted to be near her after the subject she had brought up.
She had always hated the feeling of people being angry at her over something she had done. She bit her lip while picking off the already chipped blue nail-polish on her thumbnail, feeling almost on the verge of tears. When she brought her eyes up to him again, she saw he was muttering something; something wordless, his lips moving. Then he shook his head in seeming frustration, strands of green hair falling into his eyes, as if he was arguing and disagreeing with himself. She saw his lips quirk slightly into a small smile- the quietest, breathy laughing sound leaving him- as though his own thoughts had amused him. It was perplexing. Harley wondered if he was hearing voices inside his head.
When they reached the street to where they both lived, Harley saw him stop walking, shifting on his feet. She glanced up at him, and he gave her what seemed to be a glum, unhappy smile.
"Well, I guess I'll leave ya here," he said, an undercurrent of annoyance still in his tone.
"Leave me here?" Harley shook her head, arching her eyebrows in confusion. "What ya mean?" She licked her lips, gesturing towards where their houses were, a few meters away on each side. "We've just got to walk a little further to where each of our houses are?"
His hand that was holding all of her heavy textbooks shot out quicker than she was ready for, and Harley had to catch them quickly in both arms when he shoved them at her while staring deeply into her eyes. He had that same sheen to them that she'd seen at school in the corridor, the malicious dark gleam when he'd side-eyed bitchy Lauren and her friends for making fun of her. Without a further word or so much as a smile or a goodbye, he turned and strode down the street towards where his house was, his steps fast and brisk, his arms swaying at his sides.
Harley felt her stomach sink as she watched the back of his too-large leather jacket, wondering what she had done wrong. Was he still angry over her mentioning the bruise? How come he hadn't wanted to walk further down along the road with her?
Hope this chapter wasn't too bad and that I am still having them characterization wise. It's a bit hard writing them as young adults in school but I hope its not too bad. What are you thinking so far? Merci, I very much enjoy knowing what you feel or think on this.
