Disclaimer: All characters recognized in the Faculty movie are under copyright of Robert Rodriguez and Dimension Films. The characters Carla and Rachel belong to me.

-oOo-

Chapter 10 – Accepted

It was surprisingly quiet in Grace's house. Nothing like what Casey had imagined. He had pictured half a dozen screaming siblings dashing like mad ants around the living room whilst their parents screamed bloody murder after them. He wasn't exactly sure why he got that impression.

Perhaps it was because Grace seemed distant all of the time. If she did have a big family, would she have ever been ignored?

Casey stared through bruised eyes at the many family photos that littered the dressers and mantelpiece, searching to see if he could possibly be right. A small, dark haired girl who looked as if she was about eight or nine years old grinned back from the picture; pigtails and all. It didn't look like the ruckus-like family he had conjured.

He shifted uneasily on the leather couch, waiting for Grace to dump her bag and coat in the hallway. His wrist throbbed again and he sighed, smothering the pain with a fluffy pillow.

Grace emerged a few moments later, a small, forced smile on her face. "Want a drink?"

"Um," Casey stumbled, wondering what she meant exactly by a drink. "N-no, that's okay..."

"Non-alcoholic?" she added in a sing-song voice, noticing the look on his face.

"Really," Casey said, trying not to smile, "I'm okay."

She nodded, pressing her lips together, getting the picture. She proceeded to clasp her hands together over and over again nervously as she headed into the kitchen to get something for herself. "Just make yourself comfortable," she shouted back over her shoulder.

Make myself comfortable? Casey thought to himself, swallowing. I've just been torn limb from limb. How am I supposed to get comfortable?

He was finding it hard to feel relaxed in a girl's house anyway. Especially when it was just the two of them. No one else around.

Hey, it's Grace, remember? he reminded himself, allowing himself to calm down. What's she going to do?

The silence was making him feel even worse than he already did. Something in the back of his head was telling him to turn tail and run – or limp – out of the front door, back to the safety of his bedroom so he could lock himself away and not be hurt again.

Why had he even gone outside in the first place? On a Saturday morning? Alone? He should have known it wasn't safe.

"Is this your sister?" he asked quietly, staring at the pigtailed girl in the picture; grinning cheekily and showing missing teeth.

"Huh?" she hollered back, sounding as if she was struggling with something.

"In the picture here," he replied. "Is it your sister?"

He heard her laugh nervously. "Oh, shit, no. That's me!"

Casey blinked, staring at the young girl as if seeing her in a new light. "Oh."

"Oh?" She says something like that and the best that you can say is "oh?" He felt as if he wanted to kick himself. Maybe this was the best time to scramble out of the house. But instead, he didn't. He cleared his throat and tried again.

"I thought it might be...it's just that you look a lot like her, so...I just wondered if it was...I was doubtful – but I just wanted to check...but I guess not..."

What the fuck are you saying? Shut up, damn you, stop talking now! Shut up before it gets worse!

"What are you saying?" she called back, through strained grunts and smothered giggles.

"Nothing..." he trailed off now, slumping back carefully into the comfort of the leather couch, surrounding himself by pillows and trying to ignore the burn in his cheeks. Why did he always have to do that? Sometimes his brain simply turned to fudge and he sounded like a babbling idiot.

I hate it. Screw you, communications skills. You can go to hell.

He winced as he felt his stomach let off an involuntary throb – most likely where one of those jerks had driven their foot into earlier. Why was he such a target for things like that? Why always him, and no one else? Sometimes it seemed that it was a one-sided battle between the rest of the world and himself. Him and him alone.

Sometimes he even thought that Grace was against him.

"Back," Grace's voice drifted back into the room, holding two glasses of fizzy liquid in her hands. "I felt bad, so I got you something anyway," she said, smiling uneasily. "I hope you like cherry-cola."

"Thanks," the boy almost whispered, trying to smile without it hurting his jaw. He took the glass from her and held it between his fingers, staring at it stupidly.

"You okay?" Grace asked, sipping the brown beverage with a raised eyebrow.

He shrugged a little, still staring into the glass. "I guess."

There was another uncomfortable silence. Casey hated them with a passion, especially in a strange house that he had never been in before, or sitting with someone whom he wasn't completely comfortable with. Grace was one of those people. He felt as if he couldn't tell her everything about himself, or what he thought – in fear of her laughing in his face. He couldn't cope with that; not now. Not whilst he had already been kicked to the kerb.

"Look..." she sighed, shifting on the couch; closer to him. "I know what those guys did to you was disgusting..."

He rolled his eyes. "Yeah."

"...but there's no reason to let them continue hurting you inside, y'know?"

He turned to look at her; confused blue eyes mixing together with the warmth of hers. Continue hurting him? How could she understand that this pain felt numb now? After all the years of abuse...how could he just shrug it off when it was happening all the time?

He felt his cheeks burning again and he glanced away, squeezing the glass tighter, as if attempting to will the humiliation away. "Huh?"

"Lighten up," she laughed, squeezing his forearm, but however pulled it away when he grunted in pain from the touch. "Sorry..."

"It's okay..." he sighed, although he still wouldn't look at her.

She seemed to stare at him as he turned away. It was a calculating stare, as if she were trying to sense his emotions just by watching the movements of his eyes, and the shallowness of his breath. He was so uneasy...so uncomfortable...it must still be about earlier, and what happened at the court...

...and what she had done.

"Aren't you thirsty?" she questioned, noticing, from out of the corner of her eye, that he hadn't even touched his cola.

Her only response was a tiny shrug. He had lost all method of speaking with her – his tongue was clamped to the roof of his mouth and he was incapable of answering. He continued to gaze into the speckling fizz, as if searching for something in there.

"You're acting strange," she brought up, rather bluntly, "have I done something wrong?" Her last words were filled with a hint of distain; so much so that Casey glanced up at her quickly.

"N-no," he stammered, in a voice quite insincere.

"You're such a liar," she spat, smiling weakly.

"I'm not lying..."

"Then why can't you even look at me?" she demanded, leaning in dangerously close to him, her nose almost touching his. The sound of their glasses tinkling together sang in the boy's ears, and, staring into those chocolate irises of hers, saw the familiar flame of dominance that always seemed to glaze her sight.

Shit...is she gonna kiss me again...? His thoughts ran wild – reluctantly.

"Err..." he choked, swallowing his breath and trying to shove it back down his throat. Why was she making him feel like this? He had accepted her offer – what else did she want from him? His heart pounded at the assumptions his mind had to offer...not with anticipation, but with fright.

Just get up and run! his head screamed madly. Run out of the door, while you still can! It's not too late!

But his feet wouldn't budge. In fact, it felt that every muscle of his body had turned to lead.

"Grace," he squeaked, squirming on the couch. "I..."

"Christ, you're tense," she giggled, moving away from him and taking a long gulp from her glass. "Anyone would think I was going to murder you, or something. I only wanted to talk." She peered at him in mock suspicion, smirking a little. "You know I'm not gonna hurt you, don't you Case?"

He swallowed again, and tried to laugh. However, it came out in a wrenched croak:

"Yeah...sure."

I've got to get out of here.

-oOo-

She noticed him rinsing out his glass in the kitchen later. He obviously hadn't finished his coke, as she saw it spiralling down the drain; mixing with the tap-water. She sighed and stood next to him, peering at the side of his face – watching his reactions.

"I'm sorry about before," she brought up, quietly.

"Mmm?"

"About what happened on the court," she said, "and what I said. I'm...sorry that I didn't help you. I was just trying to prove a point...and it went too far."

Casey shrugged a little, placing the wet glass onto the draining rack. "I-it's okay," he murmured, his voice empty and solemn. "Just forget about it –"

"But I can't," she whispered, placing a hand on his shoulder, feeling him flinch a little in surprise. "I can't forget, Casey...I feel awful about it. Look at you. I...I'm so sorry!" She choked on her words a little, throwing her arms around him in another random hug.

"Errr..." he mumbled uneasily, staring at her warm chest pressed against his and sensing the scent of strawberries wafting beneath his nose. He felt light-headed and dizzy on his feet. It was a good thing that she moved away just in time otherwise he was sure that he would have collapsed.

"You okay?" she asked, giggling at his hazy expression.

"I...guess, yeah..."

Why was she suddenly touching him all the time now, whereas she hardly ever came near him before? Now, she was smothering him with hugs and kissing him on the cheek all the time. Was she doing this on purpose? Was she just playing with him? She could see that he was uncomfortable with it...then why do it?

I guess I'm just not used to girls paying attention to me, he thought bitterly. I'm not even used to anyone giving me attention like this. The whole thought was depressing in itself.

"I'm just making it worse, aren't I?" she said, in a tiny voice. She read his blank, blushing expression for a few moments, and then took his arm gently. "Come on, I want to talk to you."

"T-talk?"

"Yeah, don't worry," she laughed. "I just want to talk – that's it."

"Okay."

Talk? That's a good thing, right? What does she exactly mean by talking? How long is she going to keep me here? Am I ever going to get home? Jesus, someone help me...

The mad thoughts just continued to race through his head. He was certain that there had to be something more to this invite. If all Grace had wanted to do was apologise then she had already fulfilled her request. What else did she want from Casey?

Another kiss?

"Are you sure you're all right?" Grace asked him warily, as she took him by the wrist and let him into the living room. "You look terrified."

I am, I fucking am.

He felt himself swallow unwillingly, his throat moving up and down like an apple on a trampoline. He gasped and clutched his fingers around his neck. "N-no, I'm okay," he breathed out.

"You're sweating," she pointed out, peering worriedly into his face. "Here, sit down."

Casey flopped gratefully into the soft cushions, trying desperately to get his breath back. He didn't want to be seen in her eyes as such a nervous wreck, but there was really nothing that he could do about it. He didn't want to stay in this house for another second. He felt scared to death, even though he didn't want to be. Why the hell did he have to be such a wuss around a pretty girl?

Pretty...? He felt his brain screw up in confusion. W-wait a minute...did I just think...that Grace was...?

"Casey!" Grace's voice – filled with panic – sounded a million miles away. "You're hyperventilating! Oh, Christ – wait here! I'll get you some water, or something...oh, shit!" She dashed out of the room.

The boy just wanted to scramble beneath the couch and live there forever with the dust bunnies and lint. How could he be such a...a geek around her? She was being so hospitable and friendly, and he was acting as if he was next up on death row. With those thoughts he managed to calm himself down, although he felt a strong burning alive in his cheeks.

I'm such a loser...

"Here!" the girl squealed, rushing back into the room with a full glass in her hand, almost falling headfirst – stumbling on the rug. "Here you go, Casey – drink it, quick!" She appeared as if she were ready to pass out herself. She collapsed into the chair, blowing her fringe out of her eyes.

"Thanks," murmured Casey awkwardly, receiving the glass and sipping it. He couldn't help thinking that he deserved to have the whole thing thrown over the top of his head.

"Is there anything else I can get you?" she huffed.

"No, it's fine," he whispered, staring at his sneakers.

She smiled, sighing with relief. "Sorry," she admitted, biting her lip and grinning at his red face. "I guess it's just a habit...I panic whenever I see someone –"

"Seriously, it's fine," repeated Casey, although this time he couldn't help but smile a little, remembering her reaction when he had tumbled down the bleachers all those days ago. It made him feel better, really, especially when she had been so nice to him afterwards.

I guess I shouldn't have been as pissed as I had been at her that day after all, he told himself, feeling somewhat guilty now. She was only trying to help...perhaps she was trying to help me back on the court as well...

He took a deep breath, staring into her helpful, waiting expression. "Look," he started slowly, "I'm sorry...about before."

Grace frowned. "When?"

"Back...on the court," he said, finally relaxing enough to make himself comfortable on the couch, slouching. "I shouldn't have gotten so mad at you, Grace...but it's just..." He growled, gripping the glass between his fingers so hard his fingertips turned the colour of dry bone. "Those guys...everyone...sometimes it's just too much to take...they treat me like shit – and everyday it's the same..."

"Everyday?" Grace asked carefully. She didn't really feel like dragging up any touchy subjects now, when they had at long last begun to be civil towards one another.

"Yeah," he said, a hint of sadness in his voice. "Ever since I can remember."

"I'm sorry..."

"Don't be." He took another sip of his water. "I don't need you to be sorry for me –"

The girl let out a small, aggravated groan and banged her head against the sofa cushion, shaking her head. "Damn it, will you shut up!" she laughed, although Casey could tell from her tone that she was annoyed. "I'm not pitying you, Casey...it was a sort of...you know, an apologetic sorry!"

Casey blinked, then stared into his glass. "Oh."

"Jeez," she chuckled. "Why do you think the whole world is out to cut you up?"

He gave her a look.

"Oh, right," she said, rolling her dark eyes. "The whole they-treat-you-like-shit thing, right?"

He shrugged, hoping he appeared as if he didn't care. "I told you. I guess I'm just used to it by now. I've been fucked around like this since I was in first grade. I don't know if my parents could have started me off...maybe they picked me up at the hospital and knew exactly what my life would turn out like. Maybe they feel sorry for me too...or –"

He stopped suddenly when he caught Grace giggling in her seat out of the corner of his eye. He snapped his gaze to her, just in time to see her flimsily attempt to smother them and quickly apply an awkward straight face.

"What's so funny?" he questioned sharply.

How can she be laughing at me? he wondered, a bitter, nasty taste welling in his gut. I knew I shouldn't have said anything. All she wants to do is make fun of me...

"Nothing," she smirked, matter-of-factly. "Just imagining you as a baby now."

Casey paused. "...The fuck?"

She chuckled again, grabbing a cushion and stuffing it over her face, squealing into it playfully. Her fingers clenched around the tassels as she struggled to regain herself again. The words "baby" and "ohmygod" barely made their way through.

Casey watched her curiously, noticing how delicately her wrists looked, curved around the cushion like that, her fingers groping for the material desperately. Her soft, muffled laughs rang like music in his ears, and he could feel even more heat flow to his cheeks, so much that it made every other muscle in his body feel weak.

She has the nicest laugh in the world, he realised, chewing on his lip and wondering if it was entirely possible to have this much blood in one male body. But I'll be fucked if I ever tell her that, no way. I'd rather have my limbs torn to shreds and be paralyzed for life by those bastards than tell Grace that I like her laugh. It's less humiliating.

She eventually calmed down, peering out over the pillow shyly, her eyes shining from laughter and her dark bangs hanging over her cheeks, bringing out the colour in them and lighting up her whole face; her skin singing.

"Sorry," she sniggered, noticing the look on the boy's face.

"You're weird," Casey mumbled quietly, gulping more water and avoiding her eyes.

-oOo-

"So," Grace brought up cheerfully, sometime later. "Tell me some things about yourself, Casey."

He darted his head up, nervously gazing at her. "T-things? What kind of things?"

She tapped her nails against the arm of the chair, staring at him intently; teasing. "Oh, I don't know," she sighed sarcastically, fiddling with a strand of her hair, a bored expression on her face. "Ever been in prison?"

Casey started, gaping at her as if she was mad. "What! No!"

"I'm only messing with you, stupid," she laughed, tucking her legs into the chair and resting her chin on her knees with a roll of her eyes. "Don't be so nervous! Jeez, what do you think I wanna ask you? I only want to get to know you better, not interrogate you!"

"Oh," Casey whispered, for what felt like the millionth time that night. "Yeah. Sorry...I'm just not –"

"–Used to it, I know," Grace finished for him. "But it's okay. It's just me."

Casey nodded, feeling a little better. He cleared his throat and sighed, staring at the dark red nail polish that captured the light onto her toes, highlighting them. He snapped his eyes away, reaching for his empty water glass and gulping air from it. "Okay, you go first," he mumbled. "Ask away."

"So...Herrington," she began, making close eye contact with him. "You like it?"

Oh, she just had to bring that hellhole up. Why is it whenever two strangers meet the first thing that always pops into their head is to talk about fucking school?

"You mean: do I like the lessons or the people?" Casey asked coldly.

Grace's gaze flickered, casting downward. "You don't have to answer..."

"N-no, it's okay," the boy apologised, taking another swig of air. Then he realised that he must look ridiculous and placed it back down onto the carpet. No barriers with Grace – not this time. They had a chance to be honest and polite to one another, this was the best time to start. "I guess...some days...when everyone leaves me alone...it's fine."

"Really?" she asked softly, her eyebrows narrowing a little at the thought of Casey sitting in class, having lunch, and walking home from lessons all by himself. "Don't you have any other friends there besides me?"

Casey's heart skipped a beat. Did...she just call me...her friend? he asked himself, double-checking as if to make sure. But...I thought that she couldn't stand me...I...I thought –

"Casey?"

He broke out of his thoughts at the sound of her remark – so patient, yet so not – and smiled awkwardly. "Well, I guess I don't," he answered in a hushed voice, glancing away and feeling like an even bigger dork than he had done before. "I don't really make friends easily. Once they realise you're the school nerd they don't stick around too long."

"I stuck around," she whispered, sounding a little hurt.

"I know, I know," he sighed, wanting to recover from the whole subject. How could he continue to talk to her when he constantly kept reminding her that he was an outcast? "I just haven't had that much experience, that's all. Most people don't...take to me..." He felt an embarrassed heat grow from the inside, and his fingertips tingled.

There's not much that you have had experience with, is there? The dark thoughts were back. That was all he needed right now. You'd better stop saying these retarded things or else she'll think you're an even bigger loser than you already are.

"I don't care," he growled back, half to himself, then realised he had said it out loud. He snapped his blue eyes to hers, clenching his teeth, holding back anything else that he would have loved to say in response to those annoying thoughts.

Thankfully, to his relief, he saw Grace's cheeks glow with a pretty smile. "Well, that's great if you don't care about that," she said cheerfully. "It takes a lot of balls to admit that you don't give a shit what people think about you."

"Erm...yeah," the boy replied weakly, and felt a little ashamed inside. Nothing about that statement was true at all.

Grace shifted on the couch, a strange look of passive thought clouded over her. "Well, I like Herrington," she announced brightly, tucking small strands of hair out of her face and behind her ears, rocking back and forth a little, appearing very innocent. "It's a hell of a lot better than my last school, anyway."

"Which school was that?" Casey asked curiously.

"You wouldn't know it."

Casey looked away. He hated it when people said that. Why not tell me about it? Then I might perhaps get an idea.

"I have more friends here too," she went on, avoiding the glitter of jealousy in Casey's eyes and staring into the empty fireplace. "Everyone seemed to hate one another at my old place...everyone was so...angry and hostile."

"Didn't the teachers do anything about it?"

Grace scoffed. "Hell, since when do teachers do anything like that for anyone?"

Casey reminded himself of all of the times that he had been beaten up in the hallways, injured on the basketball courts and had been the target of paper balls in class. Since when had Miss Burke or Mr Tate even thought about speaking up and defending him? Couldn't they see he was incapable of doing it for himself? And what about Nurse Harper? Instead of tending to him quickly and then sending him on his way with an apathetic: "Take more care next time", couldn't she at least talk to him about how he was feeling? Couldn't she treat him with a little more emotion?

He sighed in defeat, staring up at the ceiling and feeling very cold and unimportant. "I guess you've got a point."

"At least I have Carla and Rachel here," Grace added, her smile returning at the mention of her girlfriends. "I mean, don't get me wrong – they're great friends, but...you can't always depend upon them. Anyways, they were so nice to me on the first day. I really thought that I would end up in that heap without a single friend."

She heard Casey's quiet "Mmm" of false agreement across the room. Her brow narrowed. "Let me know if I'm rubbing something in," she said softly. "I don't want to make you feel like shit..."

"I-it's not your fault," said Casey quickly, still staring into the patterned carpet. "It's not like you can help it if you have great friends. I mean...if I had friends like yours, I guess I wouldn't be able to stop talking about them either..."

I don't want to say it, he thought glumly, but she is making me feel crappy. All this talk about the teachers, and the bullies, and now about her abso-fucking-lutely amazing friends.

But despite all of this, he didn't want her to stop talking. Her voice was so wild and friendly, and it made him forget everything that had happened in the past few hours. It wiped his memory clean, because it felt different, and he had wanted to feel different for a very long time. It somehow allowed him to think more clearly.

"What about that girl I see you in the hallway with sometimes?" Grace mentioned suddenly, as if she were trying to think of at least someone that this boy was on good terms with. "You know, the one who wears a lot of black and heavy chains? Isn't she your friend?"

Casey laughed dryly. "Hardly. We've been through school together since I can remember but she rarely ever speaks to me. In fact..." He paused for a second, thinking hard. "...In fact, she doesn't usually talk to anyone."

Grace nodded, rolling her eyes and resting her cheek in her palm. "A loner, huh?"

"I think she likes being alone," the boy continued, a new faraway look in his eyes, as if he were making a brave effort to see past all of the heavy eye-makeup and the ebony cloak of clothes, wanting to search for the Stokely inside all of that. "I mean, she's always come off as a little strange...but if she didn't like it, why would she go out of her way to be so mean to everyone?"

"Maybe she has issues," suggested Grace, with a tiny smirk.

Casey frowned, scratching his arm. "What kind of issues?"

"I dunno. You should ask her."

He smirked, turning away. "Yeah, right," he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "She'd kill me."

Grace giggled again – short and low. It somehow brightened Casey at the thought that he had made someone laugh like that, especially if it was Grace. It was strange...a few days ago he had hated her. He would have given anything to keep her as far away from him as possible. But now, after she had helped him so much, he realised something: perhaps she wasn't all as bad as he had made her out to be. Besides, they were sitting here – talking – and she wasn't irritating him in the slightest.

Weird...weird that she seems so happy around me now...

"I've learnt to be fucking happy!"

The furious words bounced around inside of his brain like a painful game of pong, as if they were doing their best to crawl their way out of there and onto Casey's tongue instead. He frowned and took a deep breath, staring out of the window.

Should I ask her about it? I mean...I've been wanting to know what she meant by that since that day...not only that, but if what she got over was so bad...how can I feel the way that she feels now? Happy, without a care?

"How did you learn to?" he questioned suddenly, in a strange voice.

"How'd I what?"

"Learn to be happy," he stated, this time, watching her entire face for any sign of a reaction. "That day...when I broke my wrist and I yelled at you...you said that you'd learned to be happy. What did you mean?"

She didn't say anything for a very long time. After a good twenty seconds, Casey saw a small flicker of pain cross her face and then vanish again, as if the heat from her cheeks had evaporated it into nothing. She pursed her lips a little and took to glancing over her nails, as if they were suddenly the most interesting thing she'd ever seen.

"You remember that?"

"Yeah," said Casey, peering at her. "and I don't understand."

"You don't want to know." Her words shook a little, as if she were doing everything she could to hold something back. Tears? Casey couldn't even see her face anymore. It was concealed behind her chestnut hair to reveal the top of her head. Casey couldn't help feeling that she was trying to hide something.

"S-sorry," he apologised meekly. "Did I say something –?"

"No, it's not you," she sighed, gazing back up at him with a blank stare. "It happened a while ago, anyway."

"What happened?" asked Casey patiently. "Please, Grace...I want to know..."

"My uncle," she answered, a lot faster than Casey had expected her too. Her voice had changed again – filled with an unmistakeable tone of anguish and disgust, mixed together and gathering in the air. "He used to...you know, do things to me."

"Do things...?" Casey didn't like where this conversation was going. "W-what do you mean?"

Grace wrapped her arms around her knees again, hugging her whole body, pulling it in close for comfort. "He liked to take his anger out on me. Hit me, and stuff. I never told my parents about it. He said he'd hurt me even worse if I told anyone. I...was so scared...I didn't know what to do..." Her words quavered gently towards the end.

I don't want her to cry, Casey told himself firmly. I've only just managed to make her laugh. I would kill myself if I brought all of this up again, just as she had gotten over it...but...

The boy felt as if he had been stabbed. He had never felt such regret...such a horrible sense of pity for someone like this in his whole life. It felt worse than anything he had ever felt before – even more so than the jocks' beatings or the slap across the face he had received. All of his misery and shame had always been directed at himself...but Grace...kind, clever, funny Grace had been through that? Casey loathed the way his father treated him, but he could never imagine him doing something so vile to his own son.

"That...that's sick," he whispered quietly, staring at Grace in a new light. She was a survivor of child abuse, and yet it was unnoticeable. How could he not see that? From someone who had practically written the book on how it felt to be abused, and yet...

"Like I said, it's over now –"

"But Grace, Jesus!" Casey cut in, sounding horrified. "How old were you?"

Grace shrugged her shoulders lightly, sounding very hollow. "It was about four years ago, I guess –"

"You were thirteen?" Casey couldn't breathe. "Grace...it wasn't that long ago? Why didn't you tell anyone about it? It was your uncle...a member of your family..."

Grace turned away, fire burning in her irises, lighting them up against the darkness of the room. "I don't like to see him that way anymore," she snarled viciously. "That bastard...that fucking..." She stopped herself from going any further, knowing that the next word that would come out of her mouth would be very offending. Casey spotted small tears glinting in the corners of her eyes, and his heart twanged with sympathy.

"Grace...I –"

"He's gone now," she added, trying to smile in her friend's direction, as if she had completely – just this moment – wiped her demon from her memory. "Yeah...he's far away...ever since my parents found out."

"Did you tell them?" Casey asked kindly, getting an urging desire to sit next to her and hold her hand...or hug her, or something. She looked so miserable, and yet so brave by the way she was forcing it back; pushing it away from her. It was admirable.

"No," she whispered, staring into her palms again and flexing the fingers. "They...caught him. One night..." The tears grew bigger and she gasped for breath, turning away. "...In my room..."

In her...room? Her bedroom? Oh, shit...no way, no way...does she mean that he...? That he did...? Oh, God...

It took Casey a while to respond. He simply sat there, with his mouth open, as white as a sheet. He couldn't believe what he had just heard. Sweet, spontaneous Grace – full of life, and she had put up with something bigger than anything he had experienced. He wished that his heart would start beating again.

He eventually felt his fingers curling into fists. "...Fuck!" he screamed, raking his good hand through his hair. He felt the bruise at his temple throbbing and he winced a little from the pain.

"Don't worry about it now," whispered Grace, awkwardly scratching her neck. "Like I said, it happened ages –"

"So fucking what!" Casey found himself yelling, gripping the armchair so tightly from the unfairness of it all. "It doesn't matter if it happened then...I mean, no one could forgive...Grace – he...he...r...ra –?"

"No, no!" she cried, understanding the dreadful word that he just couldn't bring himself to say. "No...don't worry...it didn't go that far..."

He stared at her, long and hard. It was almost as if he was accusing her – and he didn't want to make things worse, but he had to know the whole truth, otherwise he wouldn't be able to sleep tonight. He would be up – lying awake – thinking...did he? Didn't he?

"But it could have, right?"

Grace sighed, chewing on her nail fervently. "Casey..."

"Could it?" The concern was clear. She could tell.

"I...guess so..."

"Shit." He slumped back into his seat again, his heart finally pulsing into a rhythmic state. He felt his fingers trembling as he pulled them free from the couch, a burning, sick feeling in his stomach.

"Can we change the subject...?" said Grace in a small voice, sometime later. She hadn't wanted this, but in a way, he was glad that Casey knew the truth. Now he could see what she had been through and how that she had survived through it all and had emerged on the other side. She wanted him to do the same with his problems.

"No," whispered Casey, shakily. "Not until you tell me how you got over it."

"I just did, okay?" she snapped, not wishing to sound as harsh as she did. "Look...it happened four years ago, and I just wanted to get my life back together – I didn't want to keep moping around, suffering from it forever! So I took a deep breath, dusted it off, got on with life and I've learned to be happy! You just...do it. Yeah...sure, some days can be hard...but that's life. It's fucking hard."

It felt like being slapped again. Casey glanced down at the floor, put in his place once again. "Sorry," he mumbled. "I just...wish I could do the same..."

"You can," she urged, the softness in her voice returning, and her eyes sparkled again with that same sense of determination. "Casey – I've been trying to tell you this since I first met you...you can do it. You just need to try."

He sighed unconvincingly.

"Look," she went on, patiently. "If I could do it, then so can you. You can. I know what it feels like to be weak too, Casey, remember? Everyone does. But you need to fight back –"

"But they're too strong," argued Casey, lifting his head up, his every essence reeking of hopelessness. "You saw me out there...they almost killed me, Grace...how can I –?"

But astonishingly, Grace shook her head. "Not them, silly, not the bullies. I mean you have to fight back against that feeling. That heavy, bad-tasting lump in the bottom of your heart that drags you down...makes you feel low. You have to fight against that. Be happy."

"I-it's...hard..."

"I know it is," she said kindly, smiling gently. "But you can do it. I know you can. I believe you can."

Casey tried to hide the frustrating blush that suddenly chose the wrong moment to sweep across his cheeks.

-oOo-

The next hour seemed to drag on by forever. Casey didn't want to, but he kept picturing a thirteen-year old Grace having to go through so much with her family, and struggling with those feelings. He wished he could have known her then. Perhaps then he would have been able to help her in some way, and he wouldn't feel so guilty right now.

Why do I always meet people at the wrong time? he thought miserably.

"It's...getting late," Casey murmured awkwardly, wanting to dash out of the door but feeling reluctant to leave at the same time.

"You're right," she agreed brightly, peering at her watch and shifting around in the armchair. "I guess you'll be wanting to get back home, huh?"

Casey nodded a little. "Yeah...I've got a science paper to d –"

He finished mid-way in sentence as his mind suddenly flashed a glimpse of Grace, huddling against the lockers with her biology books clutched to her chest, and the tall, perfect guy leaning over her, staring into her dark eyes and bringing up that burning blush from her cheeks...

"Casey?" Grace asked quietly, trying not to giggle. "Are...you okay? You've gone quiet again."

"N-no, I'm okay," he spat out, gathering himself together with the little dignity that he had left. He felt the burning jealous pain inside of his chest again and he wished he could scream it all out, but how could he when she was sitting right there? "I just...have to get it done..."

"Oh, wait!" she exclaimed, springing from her seat, that wild look in her eyes again. "That's just reminded me, Casey! I wanted to ask you something about science."

He turned, looking straight at her. "Yeah?"

"Well, I've never really been that good at it...and, well, I was thinking it would be a good idea to find someone to help me study for it. You know, like a tutor, or something? That w –"

"Is that why you were asking that guy?" The question came out without him even considering the aftermath. It hadn't helped that he had also come across as harsh and accusing whilst saying it either.

Why? he thought, desperately getting the urge to kick himself in the head. Wby the hell did I say that?

She frowned. "What guy?"

"The one at the lockers the other day," he sighed, fiddling with his shoelace and giving himself something to do, even though that there was no reason for it to be touched at all. "I saw you when I left the school...he's smart, you know, you'll pass for sure –"

"You mean Zeke?" she scoffed, screwing her nose up. "You saw that? Urgh, what a jerk! I wanted to ask him a simple thing like studying for a science test, and that creep thinks that I was talking about something else." He watched her roll her eyes away in contempt, shuddering. "I just wanted to get away from him, to be honest..."

She...did? She...she thinks he was a jerk? The burning pain dissolved quietly, but Casey was too much in awe of what she was saying to pay any attention to what was going on inside.

"R-really?" he asked, hoping not to sound too pleased. "Hmm...I thought that you two were getting pretty close."

"Oh, please," she laughed. "Give me some fucking credit."

He couldn't help but smile. For some reason, he imagined this conversation turning out a whole lot worse. "So," he started, his brain completely lost for what he could possibly say next. "What was it you wanted to ask me...? About...science?"

"Oh, yeah!" she chuckled, jumping out of her seat to gather up the empty glasses on the floor. "I was wondering, since you're so clever and everything, Casey...if it's not too much trouble, would you mind helping me instead?"

Casey blinked. "Me...help you...?"

"If it's okay," she added quickly, biting her lip. "It would mean a lot to me, Casey...but if it's too much trouble –"

"No, no!" he broke in, a little too eagerly. "That would be great..."

"Casey, you're the best!" she grinned, throwing her arms around him again and squeezing him tightly. "I knew I could count on you – you're such a great friend!"

Yeah, he thought awkwardly. A friend. I still can't believe she called me that. A few days ago she said...

"I wish I'd never met you!"

"Me too."

"I don't," he mumbled into her hair, remembering what had happened at the hospital a good week or so ago.

"Hmm?"

"What I shouted at you in the ward," he said. "About wishing I'd never met you...I don't wish that. I'm glad I did. You're...a great friend too." The whole time he babbled that out he always had the uncomfortable feeling that he was going to choke on his own saliva.

She grinned. "Good. Because I'm glad I met you too. I guess we were just...going through a bad patch, then."

"Yeah," Casey whispered, staring at his jacket sleeve as if he could see directly through it, tracing his eyes beyond the fabric and onto the scabbing cut, reminding himself of the pain and the blood and the fear. Then he looked over at Grace, clutching him to her tightly, a small smile on her face.

"A bad patch."