A/N: Chapter Seven, presented without comment. Except that comment. And that comment. And... oh, screw it. Chapter Seven:
Paige slouched in her seat and crossed her arms over her chest. She stared down at her shoes. The laces of one had wiggled free of the knot. She'd need to fix that later. She wriggled her toes. The rubber tip of her shoe flexed with them. There was a scuff on it. It was kind of dirty. How old were those shoes?
Her father's foot was next to hers, planted on the ground. Shiny black leather. The leg of his pants rode up. Argyle socks.
Paige's eyes traveled up to her father's face. It was red. He was arguing.
Then he looked at her.
"And what do you have to say for yourself?"
Paige blinked. "Huh?"
"Have you been listening at all? What's wrong with you? Why would you get in a fight with that girl?"
Right. I'm in Hackett's office. "Um-"
"But Mr. Hackett," said Paige's mother. "The fight happened outside of school and the other girl isn't a student here. I appreciate you letting us know, but I don't see why the school should be involved."
She and Hackett began to argue the limits of the school's authority, but Paige's father did not stop staring at his daughter. "I mean it," he said. "What possessed you?"
"She pissed me off," said Paige with a shrug. "That's what you do when you're angry, right? Or should I have gone out and gotten hammered instead?"
She had been wrong. Her father's face hadn't been red before. Pink, maybe. But it was definitely red now.
"Swim team?" Her mother's shrill exclamation cut through the tension, and Paige and her father snapped their eyes to the woman. "Paige isn't on the swim team."
Hackett blinked. "I'm sorry, Mrs. McCullers, but I have it in her file that she is, in fact, a member of our swim team. I have the petition to allow her to transfer. Your husband signed it."
"Nick!"
"I did no such thing!" he said. "Let me see that." He snatched the sheet away from Hackett, and Paige shrank into her chair. Her father's skin drew tight over his temples.
"That's not my signature," he said. All three sets of eyes slid to the teenager. Paige pressed her eyes closed.
No point denying it. "Fine. I did it."
Hackett sighed and slumped back into his chair. "At least you're honest." He drummed his fingers on the desk. "Paige, I'm going to suspend you for two weeks for the forgery. And you're no longer allowed to participate in athletics at this school."
"What?" Her jaw dropped. "No. I have to stay on the team!"
"This isn't up for discussion, Miss McCullers." Hackett folded his hands over his desk.
She launched herself from her seat. "You don't understand, I-"
Her father's fingers gripped her elbow. Tight, but not too tight. "Sit down, Paige." Her eyes drilled into his, but they repelled her, hard as diamonds. She flopped down. His lip curled. "Thank you, Mr. Hackett. I would have requested you pull her if you hadn't suggested it first." He dropped his daughter's arm.
Paige sank into her seat. Her knuckled tightened on the arms of the chair. Her shoulders folded, her head drooped, and she stared at the paneling of Hackett's desk. No swimming. No more swimming. No more Em after school.
There was some more conversation: her parents working out details, who would bring Paige her schoolwork—Hanna, she'd answered, can't let Emily see me like this—then they were up and out, her father barreling through the hallways as Paige and her mother shuffled behind him.
While they'd been in Hackett's office, the period had ended, and the halls had flooded with students. They stared, heads turning as Paige was marched from the school with her mother's hand on her shoulder. Paige met none of their eyes until she passed Emily's locker.
Paige's heart throbbed in her throat. She met Emily's dark eyes, swallowed as Emily's brows knitted together, her lips quivering in the faintest beginning of a pout. Paige let her head fall, dragged her eyes away. I don't want pity. Not from her.
They sat her in the living room and took turns yelling—at her, at each other—just yelling.
She stared at the space between them.
Grounded. Confined to the house. Better get your grades up. Can't believe you'd lie. What's wrong with you? Acting out? This is your fault, Nick. Had it up to here with this family. Doors slamming. Mom crying.
Paige peeled herself from the couch and slunk into her room. She shut the door behind her. Sleep found her soon enough.
Hanna rang the doorbell a second time. She glanced around, down the street, blowing on her fingers to fight off the cold. No use; her nose glowed pink and the wind's tiny teeth nipped at any bit of skin they could find. She bobbed on her feet and tried to peer through the windows without looking like she was peering through the windows.
She was still spying—not spying, just looking—when Paige opened the door. Hanna jumped, fighting away the embarrassment that flooded her cheeks. She tried to smile, but Paige's expression dampened the effort.
"Um, I have your homework," said the blonde.
"Thanks," said Paige. She stared at the other girl. Hanna stared back.
Then she flinched. "Oh, sorry." She reached into her bag and pulled out the folder. Paige reached for it, but Hanna held it back, just out of Paige's reach. "Are you okay? I'm the only one who's heard from you in days. We're all worried. Emily's worried."
"I'm fine," said Paige, though her eyes slipped to the ground every time Hanna caught them. Hanna shrugged.
"If you say so." She handed Paige the folder, and the other girl took it and began to disappear into the building. "Paige!" called Hanna, just as the door creaked closed. Paige turned around, face pressed in the gap. Hanna crossed her arms. "Look, I don't know you that well, but I can tell you care about Emily." A hint of color tinged Paige's cheeks. "I get it, we all do. You've done so much for her, but you haven't let her do the same, and I think you should."
Hanna gave a little stomp to emphasize her last statement. Her hair shook. She smiled. "I can't tell you what to do. But it's a suggestion. Anyway. Feel better, Paige." With a wave, she was gone.
Paige closed the door and the folder trembled in her hand. She paced into the dining room, tossing the folder on the table with the rest of her homework. Most of it was complete. Being confined to the house had had its benefits.
Her cellphone rested beside the papers and notebooks strewn across the table. She picked it up, scrolling through her history with Emily. Lots of incoming texts and no replies. The last one stared up from the screen: "I meant what I said. You can be a mess with me. Please let me help you."
In the entry box below sat Paige's reply, unsent: "You can't."
Her finger hovered over Send. She grimaced and sighed. She set the phone down again and buried her nose in her schoolwork.
Hanna threw up her hands as she headed up the walkway to Emily's porch.
Emily leaned back in her seat. "No luck?"
"She's totally out of it. Barely said a word. She hasn't replied to your texts?" Hanna flopped down next to Emily, who could only shake her head. "Well, you've done all you can, Em. If she doesn't want help, she doesn't want help." Hanna's foot bobbed as she observed her friend. "Can you be honest with me?"
Emily looked up, eyes wide with surprise. "Yeah, of course."
"How do you feel about this girl? Like, really."
Hanna waited and Emily took a deep breath. "I really like her."
"Do you want a relationship with her? Even after Samara and everything?"
Emily glanced down at her fingers. Her bare fingernails peeked through the chipped polish. She scraped away another flake. "Yeah. But every time we get close, she pulls away. It's just…" She chewed her lip as she sought the right words. "Remember what Aria said? Finding someone who makes you a better person?"
Hanna nodded.
"That's Paige. For me. She makes me want to be better. And she does things that encourage me to be better. Like she can see right into me and know what I need to hear to take that next step. But she won't let me in."
"Yeah, I figured. I tried to tell her that, but it didn't seem to click."
"You what?"
"I didn't, like, tell her that you like her or anything. Just that you're there for her and she doesn't have to be so stubborn."
Emily sighed. "Thanks, Hanna."
"You're welcome. And for what it's worth, I think you two would be totally cute together."
"Hanna!" Emily laughed and shoved her friend, and Hanna giggled in response. Their conversation dissolved into laughter and shrieking, and when Hanna finally left, Emily wore a shining smile. As Hanna vanished down the sidewalk, Emily glanced at her phone. Her smile flitted away.
Paige sat alone at the table. The other two chairs had been pushed aside. A half-eaten meal rested at one seat, and dirty utensils and an empty wine glass marked the other empty place.
Her spoon clinked in her bowl. She raised the hot soup to her lips and blew on it. It whistled through her lips and the liquid puckered from the force.
Then a plate shattered in the kitchen and she flinched. She spilled the soup down her front. As she dabbed at the patch with a napkin, her mother flew through the doorway.
"Don't run away from me!" her father shouted. He exploded into the room, face purple and fists curled. "It's your fault she's like this!"
"How is this my fault, Nick? You're the one with the temper!"
He slammed a fist on the table and snarled. Paige's bowl jumped and the cutlery clattered to the floor. Her eyes fell to the ripples in her water, dancing in and out with each pound of his hand.
"At least I don't smell like a distillery every night!" He jammed a finger at the wine glass still resting on the table. Paige bent her head between her hands and pressed her elbows into the table. Pain bloomed in the joints and up through her arms. She ground her teeth against it. But I can still hear them.
Her mother screeched a reply and her father bellowed. She squeezed her eyes together. This is my fault. If she hadn't let Samara get to her, if she hadn't fallen hard for Emily freaking Fields... No. That girl is nothing but good.
Her mother's voice wiped the image of Emily from her head like condensation from a mirror. Her own face stared back at her. Her own family. My ugly life. "Shut up!" Her body shook with every shout. "Both of you, just shut up!"
Before they could respond, she bolted past them, out the door and into the street.
Her father's voice stretched into the night behind her, but her legs didn't stop. She didn't turn back. It was the coldest night yet and she was in her pajamas, just a tee and bottoms and stocking feet. Before she'd even rounded the corner, her toes were like ice and her lungs burned with every breath.
Tears scratched her eyes but they didn't fall. She couldn't make them. She didn't try.
She reached into her pocket but found it empty; her phone slept in her room, plugged into its charger.
Her pace slowed but she didn't stop. Arms hugged tight about herself, she wandered through the town, cutting through backyards as she made her way to her destination.
Emily's house. She crossed the street toward it, standing beneath the porch light and staring at the doorbell. Her finger rested on the yellowed button, skin glowing in the light of the feeble orange bulb that flickered within. She hooked her fingernail into its grooves, dragged it over the plastic, click, click, click. She did not ring the bell. She backed away, into the street, and stared up at the house.
Emily's window hung above her head, its light scattered across the grass. Paige saw the girl's shadow slip across the ceiling, raised her hand to wave, but Emily never appeared. Paige lowered her hand and stared a moment longer.
Her feet carried her forward again, to the Fields' garden, and she crouched down. Her hands scrabbled around the flowerbed and she pulled away a handful of small, white stones. She stood beneath Emily's window, and lobbed her first shot.
She flinched as it ricocheted off the glass with a clink, but the glass didn't break, so she tried again. Clink. Clink.
Paige bit her lip, rolling a stone between her fingers. The tears raged behind her eyes. She brought her arm back, poised to throw once more.
Then a hand pressed against the pane, followed by a frowning face, and Paige's muscles went slack, and all of the pebbles fell in a cascade, plinking against her foot.
Emily's mouth fell open as she caught sight of Paige, and she threw the window open and leaned forward as far as she could. She plucked at the screen with her fingernail.
"What are you doing?" she whispered. Paige cocked her head. She tried again, louder, her voice more a hiss than a gentle susurration.
"I had to see you," said Paige, her voice monotone. She pressed her lips together. "Please come down."
Emily took a deep breath and tiptoed from her room. Paige returned to the porch as Emily's face disappeared from above, and she waited on the steps, back turned to the door. She curled her knees up to her chest and rested her head on top.
The door creaked open and she whirled around and clambered to her feet. Emily peeked out the door. "Paige?" She gasped as she took in Paige's appearance. "Are you okay?"
"No," said Paige, gritting her teeth.
"Come inside," said Emily, but Paige took a step back, shaking her head. The tears were right there. Right on the edge. She swallowed.
Emily sighed. "Wait right there."
She disappeared inside the house again. Paige shivered on the porch, staring at the door.
When Emily returned, she thrust a bundle of clothes into Paige's arms. Paige pulled them on: a jacket, a hat, dry socks and an old pair of sneakers. She shoved her hands inside the jacket pockets and her fingers felt like they might shatter.
She flopped onto the porch steps again and huddled against the still-present cold. Emily mimicked her, resting her hands on her knees. She waited.
Paige didn't speak. Her jaw had rusted shut. Her fingers shrank to fists within her pockets. She squeezed her eyes shut.
Emily watched her, knuckles whitening as she gripped her knees. Her lungs seized in her chest. "Paige," she said with a quavering voice. "It's okay."
Everything broke.
"It's... not... o... kay..." Each word came out its own sob, one great exhalation as an iron fist squeezed her lungs. She drew shallow, shaking breaths. Her fingers hooked into her hair, tugging at the roots. "I hate them. I hate them so much."
She clapped a hand over her mouth, squinting against the tears that flooded her cheeks, salty on her tongue as she licked her cracking lips.
Emily lifted her hand and wrapped her arm around Paige's shoulders. Paige convulsed in a sob as Emily pulled her close. She wrapped her arms around Emily's waist and sobbed into her neck, hot tears smearing in her eyelashes and against the girl's skin.
Paige's hair tickled her nose, but Emily pressed her lips to the other girl's head as she clutched Paige with all her strength.
"Why am I such a mess?" asked Paige as her sobs began to recede.
"Does it matter?" Emily whispered. "You're allowed to be a mess."
Paige shook her head, still pressed against Emily's collarbone. "I'm sorry."
"Don't apologize." Emily pushed Paige back, just enough that she could look into her eyes. "You have nothing to apologize for. Just let it out. Tell me everything."
Paige sniffed, wiping her nose as she rose to an upright position. The chill froze the tears on her cheeks. Emily stroked her back as Paige poured everything into the space between them: her parents, her grades, the forgery, Samara.
Every so often, she stopped to cry, and every time, she thought her supply had run dry. But it never did, and tears glittered in her eyes even as she ran out of words.
She wiped her eyes, then buried her hands between her knees. Emily's fingers found Paige's wrist, the cold-pricked band of skin between her gloves and her coat. Paige pulled her hands free without thinking, and Emily's hand wrapped around them.
Emily's eyes traveled up from the tangle of fingers resting on Paige's knees, up to the tear-stained face of the girl beside her. Paige's hair was wild, her eyes red, her cheeks and nose stained pink with cold.
She leaned in, fingers tightening around Paige's hand, and pressed their lips together. Paige stiffened, and Emily began to pull away, an apology building on her tongue. As the contact between them broke, panic boiled in Paige's chest and she shot forward, cupping her hand around Emily's neck and shattering the distance once more.
Goosebumps prickled up Emily's arms and neck—from the cold, or from the kiss?—and Paige shivered as she felt them beneath her fingers. Emily pulled Paige tighter, hands around Paige's waist. Their breaths were quick and uneven, stolen in brief moments of separation.
Emily pulled away, biting her lip as every part of her screamed to lunge in for more. Paige's eyes stayed closed, her lips hanging apart, and when she opened them a smile exploded on her face.
"Wow," she said, and Emily gave a tiny laugh, all she could manage as she tried to catch her breath.
"Yeah." She found Paige's hand again, and Paige grinned at the way their fingers meshed, giddy and warm despite the cold night air around them.
But their high was temporary, and as Emily brushed her thumb against the back of Paige's hand, her smile began to fade. The chill wriggled through her clothes, and the shiver that overtook her had no other cause.
Paige scooted closer, wrapping her arm around Emily's shoulders. Emily stared at the ground.
"What's wrong?" she asked.
Emily shrugged. "Nothing. I'm... I'm really happy," she said, squeezing Paige's hand. "I wanted to do that for ages."
"Me too," said Paige, leaning in and resting her forehead against Emily's temple. The other girl giggled and sneaked a quick kiss before pulling away. Yet again, her smile proved temporary.
"What's bugging you?" asked Paige. "We don't..." She swallowed and the color drained from her face. "Look, I want this. I want us. But if it's too soon after Samara, I can wait."
Emily shook her head. "That's not it. I don't need to wait. Maybe it's crazy, but I've never met someone so right for me."
"It's not crazy," said Paige. Her heart hammered in her chest like rain against the road. She was certain that if Emily waited any longer, it might wear itself out.
"I just... can't seem to shake the feeling that I'm not right for you."
Paige blinked. "Of course you are. The way you feel about me, that's how I feel about you. You make me feel... no one has ever made me feel the way you do. I mean, look at me. When I got here, I was crying like a baby, but now..." She grinned. "Now, I'm sitting here kissing the most beautiful, amazing girl I've ever met. And I'd like to keep kissing her, if she'll let me."
Emily answered with another kiss, and they smiled as they came together.
They sat together for a little while longer, fingers intertwined and shoulders pressed together, giggling punctuated by kisses and sighs. But the night lumbered darker and colder and before long both were shivering uncontrollably.
"You don't have to go home," said Emily, and Paige gulped. Even in the cold, her face flushed, and Emily's soon matched it. "Oh. I mean, I can sleep on the floor or the couch or, or something, and you can take the bed."
Paige scrunched up her face and glanced at the door, but after a moment of thought, she shook her head. "No, I should get home. It'll only get worse if I'm not there in the morning."
"Are you sure?"
Paige sighed. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm sure. It'll suck but they're not... it'll be okay. It always is."
"Okay." Emily stood and Paige followed. They didn't move until Paige shook the lethargy from her muscles and leaned in for one last kiss.
"I'm still grounded," she said, as the last kiss became the penultimate kiss, "but I'll call you tomorrow." She kissed Emily for the third last time. She started down the steps, fingers still locked with Emily's, and spun around as the tug on her arm let her know that Emily had not let go. They came together again, Emily rocking at the edge of the deck, boards squeaking beneath her as she leaned over Paige.
"Okay, go," she said, as they pulled apart. They ripped their fingers away and Paige walked backwards towards the sidewalk. Emily wrapped her arms around herself, wracked with shakes in the cold. Her eyes followed Paige until the other girl disappeared into the haze of the night.
A/N: HOPE YOU LIKED IT. I WASN'T/AM NOT NERVOUS ABOUT THIS ONE AT ALL. *dies* *figuratively*
In other news, I have Chapter 8 written but I think I need to re-evaluate my outline for the middle a little bit. Not to fear! I still seem to be on track. *fingers crossed*