Wow, this chapter was a rough one to write, not because of the length or anything, but more because of the scenes. I felt rather dirty after completing Adam's scene, since, yes, that's how I feel about characters like him, dirty. Then the last scene I spent a lot o time deciding how I wanted to go about writing it, but I think it turned out decent. :)
Also, one other thing before we get started: Both of my Gone stories were nominated for the Gone Awards. Voting has started, so if you find one of the stories worthy, go give them a vote. Also, Chris has been nominated for best OC, as well as Louie from Who We Really Are, so if you like either of them, go give em' a vote. Thanks. :)
Okay, so I know that this update took a while. I'm going to give you a fair warning, the updates may slow considerably. Concert season officially started, so I have to learn my music for Christmas concert, all-region, jazz band, and plus I'll have the Christmas parade, and all the other holiday stuff. I want to keep things in time with the holidays, but I'm afraid that's not going to happen. My apologies for this inconvenience, I'll try to update as much as possibly.
Now, I'm changing this up and doing the questions right here. If you want to know why, let me know, so I know if I need to explain next chapter.
So, Questions:
1. Favorite scene from this chapter.
2. What was the most surprising scene/event from this chapter.
No challenge. :)
Okay, I'm done talking. Let's read!
You know what I own.
~The Secrets We Keep~
Adam blinked in shock when the small girl looked past him, reaching at a hand. "No! Leave her alone! Harley!"
"Who are you-" Adam turned his head to look, but nobody was there. He stood stared back at his victim in bewilderment. "There's nobody there!"
Tears were soaking her face as she screamed in horror, and buried her face in her hands, body wracking with sobs.
"Get off of her, you nimrod! Are you trying to get the shit kicked out of you, again?" Hands wrapped firmly around his arm, and yanked him away. He blinked at the concern, not only for the girl breaking down in front of him, but also for himself. It was Chris, one of the "GAP Girls" as they were called. He crinkled his nose, wondering what was wrong with calling them what they were. Dirty, unnatural lesbians.
"Don't tell me what do do!" He snapped, trying to recall what they called this one. Each of the them had a title. Jasamin was the baby, and Lauren was the Gaurd, or, in other words, the one that everyone was really scared of. His room mate had informed him of those two right away, the same night as the Homecoming disaster.
"Messing with any of them is a bad idea, but Jasamin is the last one you wanna try. If you do, all of them will be at you, and especially Lauren, and that's the last thing you want."
He turned, hoping to see some sort of back-up, but there was none. Instead, he found quite the opposite. Chris had been accompanied by the, frankly, hot girl with the crimson ringlets, The Beauty was what his room mate had called her. Well, he couldn't deny that one. Also there were the broad, powerful girl that had distracted him the night Lauren had decked him, which was the only reason she had managed it, and the dark-skinned girl that was always around Chris.
"You should scram," Chris warned, not looking at him, but kneeling beside the girl still screaming and crying for "Harley", with her hands cupped over her ears. Adam noticed vaguely that Chris was not touching the little girl, only watching her, concern etched into her face.
"And if I don't?" Adam challenged, squaring himself up. He saw the red-haired girl's jaw clench, and the other two girls that had followed balled their fists.
But they were distracted almost immediately by the arrival of a new voice. "Move!"
They did, forming a path and revealing the last two lesbos, coming across the yard. Lauren was in the lead, dirt blond hair falling wildly out of its lazy ponytail, and eyes lit with fire, all making the anger in her features even more exaggerated. Traveling behind her was the girl that Adam knew could only be latina, her face twisted into a mask of concern.
Lilah. The Toyer, known for never being ina relationship for more than a week. Not that what she did even counted as having a relationship.
"Lauren," Chris warned from her position on the ground beside Jasamin.
"When are you going to learn?" Lauren demanded passing through the small group, fire dancing in her eyes.
"Lauren." Chris sounded more urgent now, and yet, the older girl still managed to ignore her.
"Testing my patience was not a good idea," she growled, almost upon him.
"Hey!" Someone shoved him aside, and when he turned to see, Chris had taken his spot, face set determidly. "Yeah, he's an ass, and he probably deserves whatever you were planning on doing to him, but we have a bigger issue at the moment."
She stepped aside and Lauren's eyes ell on the trembling form of Jasamin, knees pressed to her chest, and face streaked with tears as she rocked slightly and muttered incoherently.
The recognition flashed quickly across Lauren's face, and she bit her lip. "Okay, just stay back. Nobody touch her, or say anything. We don't know what the trigger is, but hitting it again could turn her violent. Lih," Lilah looked at her, "go get Nurse Lewell, and tell her we need a sedative."
~The Secrets We Keep~
Sound came before sight. The sound of someone fiddling with glasses a short way off. She didn't want to open her eyes and be assaulted by the flood of light that was sure to greet her, however, her curiosity was too strong, and she found that she had to know who was in the room, and what exactly they were doing.
So she forced her eyes open, and squinted at the blaring lght that she has predicted she would see. She blinked away blots of color that danced across her vision, and pushed herself into a sitting position. She was not in her own dorm room, as she'd been half-hoping she would be, waking from a nightmare, where she was attacked and had slipped into her past. Instead, she was in the nurse's office, on one of the soft mattresses, pushed to the side of the room. The nurse wasn't there, however, and neither were any other patients, since none of the other beds looked disturbed. No, her company was, to her horror, a very distracted Lauren, standing at the counter and filling two glasses with water.
She turned at the sound of Jasamin's movement, and the younger girl looked away, guilt eating at her insides. Everyday Lauren did whatever Jasamin needed, and one of only two days out of the year that she asked for anything in return, Jasamin had ruined.
She saw Lauren approach the bed, and stop, holding out one of the cups. Jasamin took it cautiously, and took a sip, feeling the mattress shift as Lauren took a seat. "PTSD," She said after a moment of silence.
Jasamin almost chocked. "What?" She met Lauren's eye at last, her own going wide.
"Post-traumatic stress disorder." Lauren raised an eyebrow.
Jasamin looked away again, chewing at her lip fiercely. Finally, she responded with, "Minor."
"Diagnosed?"
"Not officially," Jasamin answered bitterly taking another sip. "Only suspected."
"What's your trigger?"
Jasamin almost bite into the mug, but refrained. "It's tricky," She told her slowly. "It's my shoulder, but only if you hit it just right."
"Like Harley hit it?" The question sounded doubtful, like she didn't actually believe that Harley was the cause.
This time, Jasamin really did choke. "How do you know you know that name?" She spluttered, once she could speak again.
"You were screaming it.." just as she had suspected. "Who is she?"
Jasamin didn't answer immediately. She gulped down the rest of the water, and took the time to wipe the water form her mouth, before finally providing an answer. "She was my sister."
"Was," Lauren repeated the word slowly, thoughtfully, only half-poising it as a question.
"Yeah," Jasamin snapped, sliding off of the bed and crossing the room quickly. Sh dropped the mug begrudgingly in the sink and finished, "She's gone now."
"What happened?" Lauren pressed carefully.
Despite Lauren's gentle demeanor, and careful approach, the question hit a nerve. "None of you're business!" She turned on her heels, and glared at the older girl, who winced. "I let you have you're secrets, Lauren, so the least you can do is let me have mine, and this is mine!"
She knew somewhere in the back of her mind that she was being too harsh. Too defensive. Yet she couldn't care about being careful now. Her head was spinning in circles so fast that her surroundings were becoming a blur. No one could concentrate on being careful when they were feeling so dizzy.
"What's going on in here?" The nurse stuck her head in curiously, and Jasamin turned on her.
"Can I leave now?"
The woman blinked. "Well, I mean, if you're feeling up to it, then-"
"I'm feeling fine!" She assured as she pushed past the woman, and raced down the hall. The school had, for the most part, been shut off for the night. The office lights were sill on, but beyond that,t eh halls were dark. Jasamin was chased only by the sound of her own footsteps, echoing hollowly off of the walls, as she allowed her feet to carry her where they wanted.
She tugged open a thick, oak door, and stumbled into the hall beyond, gasping and muttering a string of curses she had learned from her father as she roamed like a drunk through the space, piled high with stacks of old boxes, and broken desks and a number of other items of useless junk, until she came to a stop as she felt her hand close around the rail of a staircase.
Feeling her way carefully across the smooth metal, she found the empty space beneath the it, and crawled in, tucking herself up as close to the steps as possible, and not caring about the spiderwebs that fell lazily into her hair, on on her shoulders. Once there, she buried her face in her arms, and finally allowed herself to do what she had been wanted to do the entire time.
She cried.
She allowed her tears to soak the bare skin of her arms as she balled the material of the baggy shirt in her fists, and muttered so unintelligibly that not even she was sure what she was saying. Except, of course, for one word, that circled around in her head, and occasionally found it's way to her lips.
One word that haunted her nightmares, but riddled her fondest memories. One word that kept her grounded, and at the same time, sent everything spiraling out of control. One name that she hated, and loved all at once.
"Harley."
The girl looked up at the sound of her name, brushing a strand of wavy blond hair out of her face.
"Harley!" Jasamin repeated, coming to a stop breathlessly as she reached the table that her sister was seated at.
"What' is is, Jazz?" Harley sat down her pencil, and stood, stretching.
"Look what I found!" Jasamin ordered with a breathy laugh, holding out a small shell with tiny pin pricks peering out at her.
"That's cool, kid." Harley smile, and ran a finger over the edge of the shell fondly. "But you should go put him back, okay? And get cleaned up before Dad gets home and sees you. Don't wan to give him a reason to get mad at you, yes?"
"Yeah, I guess not," Jasamin sniffed, biting her cheek as she stared down at her dirt caked hands and jeans.
"Good. Go on now, quickly. I'm going to make dinner."
"Okay!" Jasamin grinned broadly, bouncing on her heel, then racing back out into the yard. She put the turtle down by the fence, bumping it gently through the hole that she assumed he came in through, and whispering that is shouldn't come back. Her daddy didn't like animals around.
She then stood rubbing her hands together, and turned her face up the to sky. It was decorated with the pinks and purples of sunset, and a smile formed on her lips. This had been her mother's favorite time of day, and Harley said that right now was when she could see them the clearest from where ever she was now.
The little girl raised her hand, and waved at the color-painted sky. "Hi, Mommy!" She called cheerfully. "Did you see my turtle?" She didn't need a reply. She just continued to babble. "He's pretty neat, huh? I think I'll call him Shy, since he's pretty shy, hiding in his shell and all. What do you think? Hey! Remember when I told you about that man who came to school with all those cool instruments? And how Harley started taking me to secret lessons to learn saxophone? Well, my teacher said that I'm the most promising student he's ever had! Har says that's real good. Means I'll be a good player if I keep working. That's great! If I get good, then Daddy won't think I'm useless anymore, right? Then he won't hit me no more, and we can get a better house, and Harley can have all the pretty cloths she wants! She thinks I don't know how much she wants pretty cloths, so she will fit in at school, but I do. I think-"
"Who are you talking to?"
Jasamin yelped as a large hand closed around her arm, just under her armpit, and yanked her around. Her daddy's eyes were hay, like always, and his breath smelled rotten.
"Well?" he demanded. Jasamin tried to respond, but the pain in her arm was causing her words to be lost somewhere on the path between her brain and her mouth. He growled, and began to drag her back across the yard, her wincing the whole way as she tried, and failed, to regain her footing.
"Daddy!" She cried, trying to pry his fingers away. "You're hurting me!"
"What? Now you can talk? Where was that voice when I wanted an answer?"
"I-I don't know!" She cried.
"Useless little brat," she snarled, throwing her through the doorway, and slamming the sliding glass door closed behind him. It rattled in the track, and Jasamin was afraid if the force of the slam didn't shatter it then the rage her father was emanating would. "Who were you talking to!" He shouted again, speaking as though she were stupid, and slammed her shoulder against the wall behind her so she couldn't run and hid. Not that she would.
"Dad!" Harley was standing in the doorway, horror etched into her features. "Hey! Stop it!" She raced across the room, and grabbed his arm, tugging it away form her sister's shoulder. "She doesn't know any better! She's just a little girl!"
"Shut up, you!" The and swung blindly, and barley catching his daughter's face, but the wince she produced from the nick of his fist seemed to satisfy him, and he turned back to his main concern. "Now tell me!"
Jasamin raised her eyes, rimmed red as tears leaked out and made clean tracks in the layer of dirt on her face. Her sister was no longer in the room. She had abandoned her. Jasamin whimpered, and opened her mouth to reply, but produced no words.
She cried out as pain laced through her ribcage from the impact of her father's fist. "Answer me!" More pain, this time though her shoulder. Again and again. So many strikes at her ribcage that the bones gave up, and cracked sickeningly. A sharp foot to her side that made her hip turn awkwardly.
And the entire time, her screams mingled with her father's shouts, and they blocked out all other sound, which may have been why they didn't hear the oldest daughter tearing through her father's room, or crying in triumph when she found what she'd been looking for. Would it have been for the best if someone had heard her enter the room again, set her feet, and position her arms. Could the events that followed have been prevented if only someone had heard her before she wanted to be heard?
"Get your hands off of her!"
He stopped, hand raised for another strike, and rage lit his face. He whirled, preparing to stop Harley's interference for good, and froze. Despite her pain and fear, Jasamin found herself overwhelmed by curiosity. What could possibly have stopped her father's rage so abruptly. So she peered around her father, and what she saw made everything stop.
Suddenly, all of the pain was gone. The house was gone, and her crying stopped. Her breath stopped. Everything simply stopped. It was only her, cowering behind her father, who was looking interestedly at the blond thriteen-year-old girl in front of him.
And then there was Haley, standing across a void of empty space, hands raised, and in them, the small, black gun that her father kept his room, for nights he had a particularly nasty fight at the bar. The barrel was pointed at her father's head, and her features were set in cold determination. "Get away from her."
The man had the nerve to laugh. One, calm laugh that echoed through the empty space. "You wouldn't shoot your own flesh and blood."
"Wouldn't I?" Harley challenged, ignoringJasamin whimpering her name. "I am you're flesh and blood, and you don't care what you do to yours"
Another laugh, and a step forward. "If you do, you'll go to jail, kid. You gonna leave little Jazz alone like that?" In response, Harley put a finger warningly on the trigger. Finally, fear crossed their father's face. He lunged desperately and Harley jumped in surprise, giving him time to grab the gun, and twist it back, barrel pointing away from his head, and towards hers.
Harley screamed as her hand twisted awkwardly, and tried to yank her hand away, but her finger caught, pinned to the trigger by her father's hand, and the attempt at escape pulled back the trigger.
Jasamin clapped her hands over her ears, as everything spiraled back to normal. As they became surrounded again by four, dark walls, and the bang of the gun going off split the air.
And her sister's blood painted the wall behind her.
Harley always had one rule. Never let him see you cry. No use giving him the satisfaction.
This ring in Jasamin's ears as she dragged herself over to her sister's side, and maybe that's what gave her the strength to bite tongue, and endure the pain silently.
"Harley?" She spoke quietly, touching her sister's hand, and trying not to look at the messy wound that was distorting her face.
"She can't hear you!" Her father snapped from his spot, muttering in the corner. He turned back to it, and Jasamin turned back to her sister, squeezing her hand. She knew she needed to call 911, like hers sister had taught he, but she couldn't leave her side. Besides, moving was for too painful.
As she contemplated this, her father seemed to grow more agitated. He cursed loudly, and kicked the leg of the small table that was set up in the corner of the room. It collapsed, and the table toppled over, causing the young girl to wince.
She gasped as she cleared the room, and snatched her up, and bit back a cry of pain when he used her bad shoulder to pin her to the wall. "Listen here, you!"
"You killed my sister!" Jasamin accused bitingly.
"No I didn't. Your sister shot herself."
"Because you pushed her!" Jasamin tried to pull his hand away. "You made her pull the trigger!"
"No I didn't!" He snarled, pressing harder. "It was an unfortunate consequence of her playing with things she shouldn't be."
"They'll put you in jail. That's how Tony's daddy go put in!"
"Maybe, but even if I do; I'll get out someday." His words made Jasamin pause. "And when I do; I'll find you, little girl."
"And kill me, too?"
"No, but I'll make you wish you were dead."
"You okay?"
Jasamin jumped at the voice and looked around. Chris was there, standing with her head cocked, looking at the mousy-haired girl with mild interest. The smaller girl wiped hurriedly at her face, before realizing that is was dry. She'd stopped crying, and wiped away the tears sometime while she had been trapped in hr memories. Now she was just sitting there, with her hands clenched in fists, pressed against the sides of her head, and muttering.
"Can I help you?" She regretted the venom immediately. Chris hadn't done anything wrong, only happened upon her, and decided to show her concern for her friend.
If Chris was hurt by her hostility, though, she didn't show it. Instead, she laughed. "Okay, tiger, relax. I was only asking as question," She joked, raising her hands innocently.
Jasamin flexed her hands, and pressed her thumb into her palm absently. "Sorry, I didn't for mean it to come out like that."
Chris shrugged, and took a seat beside her. "That's alright, you're having a bad night is all."
Jasamin let out an airy laugh. "You're too patient, Chris. Has anyone ever told you that?"
"All the time," Chris replied, grinning her trademark grin. "Mom always says she has no idea where I got it from."
"It's a good thing. Don't question a good thing."
"Tell her that."
They both laughed, and laughing felt, surprisingly, good, but like all good things it came to a stop, and they fell awkwardly into silence.
"Wanna know a secret?" Chris asked when the silence had stretched for too long.
"Why not?" Jasamin picked at a loose string on the hem of her shirt.
"My mom used to be a drunk."
"What?" Jasamin glanced over at her, looking for signs of a joke, but there were none. She raised an eyebrow at the smaller girl, mouth pulled into a frown.
"Yeah, real bad. She's got a record. DUI's, public intoxication, even has juvenile records, of course, those have all been wiped clean, but still..." She glanced over at Jasamin. "Anyways, the point is she was bad for a long time. Know what finally caused people to take action?"
"What?" Jasamin knew she must have looked silly, staring at the girl with so much fascination.
"This." She pulled up the edge of her shirt, and revealed a thick, corded scar dancing across her rib cage on the left side.
Jasamin winced. "How'd that happen?"
Chris ran her fingers across it in slight fascination. "Car accident. I was seven, and my mom was drinking, and I was out in the yard with Shaena. We were playing with this frisbee that Shaena's sister won her at a carnival-"
"Shaela?" Jasamin couldn't imagine a time when Shaena and her twin sister were that close.
Chris only laughed. "No, no. Her older sister, Cynthia. She's in college now, but she never went to Headline anyways."
Jasamin chuckled. "Wow, I never imagined there being anymore in their house besides the two of them."
"There were four of them in the house," Chris told her. "Cynthia was the oldest, then their brother, Shayne, and then the twins were the youngest. Cynthia and Shaena were always closer and Shayn and Shaela were really close." She paused, realizing what she was saying. "Anyways, that's not the point," she went on. "The point was, the frisbee caught a good breeze, and ended up landing on the roof."
Jasamin winced. "And you went up to get it."
A nod. "I'd done it a thousand times. I could get on and off in my sleep, and at the time, I didn't have the foresight to realized that the leaves up there would throw off my balance. I lost my footing, slipped on the leaves, and fell. Broke my arm."
Jasamin could imagine what followed. "My mom freaked out. Threw me in the car and took off for the hospital. Under normal circumstances there are people who would've driven a little crazy. Add that to the fact that she was drunk, and a wrack was inevitable." Chris clicked her tongue thoughtfully, and paused a moment. Then: "She ran a red light, and was nearly run over by this semi. I remember the grill, every detail of it, as it got closer, but she swerved. We avoided it, yeah, but flipped in the process. It probably would've flipped again, too, if we hadn't hit the light pole." Another pause, and Jasamin watched her chew at her tongue, or at least, she assumed that was what it was. "The crash broke my ribs, one so bad that the bone was actually fully exposed. That's what the scar is."
Jasamin had to suppress the urge to gag. "That's sounds like it hurt."
"Like hell." Chris grinned at her. "And it took forever to heal. I was on bed rest for half of that school year. The only reason I didn't have to repeat second grade was because Shaena helped me."
Jasamin smiled fondly. "Everyone should aspire to have as good a relationship with someone as you and Shaena have.
Chris chuckled. "It takes effort. Compromise."
"Oh." Jasamin finally saw the point of the story. "Look, I plan on apologizing to Lauren, but I'm not telling her about Harley."
"That's not what I'm saying." Chris shook her head. "You were right. Lauren won't tell you her secrets, so you don't owe her yours."
"Then what are you saying?"
"I'm saying, that you need somebody who is willing to compromise. Someone who trusts you with their secrets, and who you trust with yours. You need your own Shaena, because whatever happened with Harley, you really need to talk about it with someone."
Jasamin nodded. "You're right."
"Of course I am." Chris laughed and flicked her hair out of her eyes. "I'm always right."
"That's not what you let Rose believe," Jasamin teased, bumping her arm playfully.
"Ouch," Chris winced. "That hurt. Right here," she pointed at her chest, "in my empty chest cavity."
Jasamin laughed again, longer this time. Its felt right; laughing. It was as though for a moment, everything bad in the world didn't exist. There was only her and this amazing girl who turned a cruel joke about her relationship into something light and cheerful.
And all in one second, Jasamin realized she wanted that girl. She wanted someone who could turn the worst situation into something funny, and laughable. She wanted that ease, that constant happiness. She wanted to save that happy girl from the cruel one who tried to change her so often. The fiery-haired girl who wanted her not for her she was, but for who she could be changed to be. Rose didn't appreciate this girl's patience, and good-humor. She used every chance she had to convince her that what everyone else loved about her was childish. Rose didn't appreciate her funny, almost charming even. Rose didn't appreciate her. Didn't deserve her.
In a second, she realized that she was a nasty little word that she had always swore she'd never be. She was jealous! She wanted what Rose had, but more importantly she wanted what Shaena had. The real relationship. The closeness.
And in the same seemed that her mind brought these feelings to light, her body made a decision, and acted without consent.
She leaned forward, and kissed Chris.
Chris, noble Chris, who would never do anything to betray the girl who didn't appreciate her, pulled away almost instantly. Jasamin realized at the same moment what she had done, and clapped a hand over her mouth, jumping to her feet, and slamming her head into the stairs. Cursing, she ducked out of the space, and ran back through the hallway, not looking back. Not wanting to see the horror of what she had done showing all over the other girl's face.
Her foot caught on the discarded leg of a desk, and she fell, throwing out her hands as she went. The impact jarred her arms violently, but she climbed quickly back to her feet, and kept going, half-convinced that Chris was following her, ready to tell her how horrible she was for doing such a thing.
Only when she made it out into the cool, crisp air of autumn did she slow. She stopped, taking deep breaths, trying to cool the burning in her throat from the lack of oxygen. She turned, and found herself half-hoping Chris had followed. Maybe she would tell her that she felt the same way. Go back up with Rose, and Jasamin could have her for herself.
She knew the disappointment that she hadn't followed was selfish, and that the shock was silly. Chris wouldn't end it like that. That was as not Chris-ish at all.
Jasamin took a moment to catch her breath, and once her chest stopped leaving, and her throat stopped burning, she decided.
She didn't go back to her room, even back to the girls' dormitories. As the sun began to peek over the tops of the trees. She came to the door of the boys' dormitories. She knew who she trusted with her secrets now. He'd grown quickly from an acquaintance to a friend, to someone she trusted easily.
As she approached his door, she could hear the tell-tell sound of drumsticks tapping out rhythms, and smiled slightly as she knocked.
The tapping stopped, and moments later, the door opened. "Hey, Jazz. What's up?" Alexander frowned, brushing dirty-blond bangs out of his eyes. In one hand, he was holding his drumsticks, decorated in black and yellow ribbons lined with the name "Beat". Jasamin remembered spending the Friday after homecoming helping him decorate them special for the competitions. It had turned out more difficult than one would imagine. "I heard about Adam. Are you okay?"
"Yeah, I'm fine. Can I come in?"
"Sure." Alexander stepped aside and let her come in, closing the door behind her. They stood there for a moment in silence, then:
"I have to tell you something."
"There's something I want to run by you."
They blinked at each other. "You go first," they said together.
"Okay, we'll give a short explanation together, then decide who'd should take priority, yes?" Jasamin suggested, and Alexander nodded in agreement. "Okay, on three. One..."
"...Two..."
"...Three!"
"I kissed Chris!"
"I think I like Noah!"