I covered my quivering jaw, releasing a moist, jagged breath into my hands. I needed to run. I needed to leave the class before the grief broke through right here in front of everyone.
Dad looked up suddenly and started talking with a slight information-stutter as he frowned at me. “Sorry, class—” He sauntered casually over to his desk and lifted a piece of paper, “—just remembered I need to send a note up to the office.”
“Ooh, I’ll go Mr T,” one of the girls said, holding her hand high in the air.
“Actually—” He scanned the room. “Edmond!” The whole class turned to look up the back of the room, following Dad’s unusual tone. Edmond dropped his phone and sat up straight, pulling his headphones out of his ears. Dad handed me the note and whispered, “Go.”
I went. My feet carried me swiftly, leaving the curious stares of the entire class burning into my back, and the lecture on why we don’t play with phones in class absconded into the empty corridor until the door slammed shut behind me.
Holding my breath, I dropped the fake note to the floor and felt for the wall as the hot, salty liquid of my troubled past streamed down my cheeks. For every tear I swiped away, another took its place, and I fought to quiet my sobs, but the pain just went too deep.
“Stupid jokes.” I kicked the base of the wall. This was why I swore I’d never let my guard down, why I swore I wouldn’t try to make friends here. As soon as they found out, they’d all crowd around me in the lunchroom, using my pain to fill the boring hour. I’d seen it happen before when a girl lost her mum to cancer at my old school. I couldn’t let that happen to me.
Slowly, I rolled my face upward to look at the classroom door, kind of wondering why Dad hadn’t come out to see if I was okay—see if I needed a hug, because, for the first time since I lost her, that was all I really wanted. Just a hug. Just to feel like someone could hold me down—stop me from floating away.
I dropped my forehead against the wall and hugged myself, not really sure I could do this anymore.
“Ara?” Long, cool fingers slowly gripped my arms from behind. “What happened? What’s wrong?” His words were barely a whisper, but I recognised his voice right away, and he was the last person I wanted to see. He’d definitely ask questions—questions I didn’t want to answer.
“I’m—I’m okay, David. I just…” I wiped my face, keeping my head down. “I guess being new just got to me.”
“No, this is not nerves or fear, Ara. This is grief.” His fingers tightened on my arms, his gently melodic tone forcing a rise of heartache inside my chest. “Talk to me.”
“I can’t.” I sobbed, wrapping my fingers over my entire face.
“It’s okay.” He tried to turn my shaking body, but I held fast, afraid to let him see me. “It’s really okay.”
“No, it’s not. Why does everyone always say that?” I asked, barely able to understand myself. “I’m so sick of hearing that.”
“Ara. Please. Please. I’m worried about you.” His hand came forward, cupping my shoulder as he spun me gently into his chest and wrapped me up in his arms. “Please, don’t cry.”
“I’m trying not to,” I said, shielding my face in the darkness against his chest. And he smelled so good, so real and so warm. He smelled like something safe, like a person who could hold on to me if I fell. I wanted to hold on; I wanted to wrap my arms around his waist and just hold on. But my arms, tucked so tightly into my chest, just couldn’t break free. I just needed to be small, closed in.
“Okay.” He rubbed my back and took a step, keeping me close to his chest as we walked. “Come on.”
I hiccupped in an embarrassingly high-pitched tone. “Where’re we going?”
He looked down and smiled at me. “We’re going somewhere we can be alone—talk.”
And like that, in one sentence, David hit every chord I ever wanted to hear. My heart squeezed tighter, then twisted into a large, pulsing knot—a good knot.
As we hurried into the front parking lot, I glanced over my shoulder every few seconds—watching for teachers, while David stayed calm, walking with the grace of a king. We stopped by the passenger door of a shiny black car with a soft-top roof.
“Is this your car?” I asked.
“No, I’m stealing it.” He jammed the key in the lock and twisted it, then laughed at me. “Yes, it’s my car, Ara.”
“How old is it?”
“Uh—” He looked at the car, then at me. “It’s a little old.”
“Classic old?”
“Kinda. It was my uncle’s.” He held the door open for me. “Hop in.”
As David shut the door, the exasperating heat closed me in right away, and the tan leather seat burned the backs of my thighs under my skirt. I lifted one leg, then the other, and wiped the sweat from under my knees, placing fabric between skin.
“You okay?” David asked, opening his door, releasing the tight pressure of exasperation for a moment.
I nodded, slinking down lower in my seat. “I’ve never ditched school before.”
“This isn’t ditching,” he said. “Your dad will understand.”
I nodded. “I guess so.”
He smiled across at me and shook his head, reaching into his back pocket.
“What are you doing?”
“Easing your conscience.” He pinned a number into his phone and pressed it to his ear, taking my hand. “Miss Apple?”
I heard her voice muffled on the other end.
“Yes, I have Ara Thompson with me; can you let her father know she’s fine, and I’m taking her for a walk to clear her head.”
I slowly inched up in the chair, inconspicuously wiping a few dots of moisture from my upper lip.
“Yes, I’ll bring her home later. Give him my number if he wishes to check on her. Okay. Bye.” He hung up the phone and dumped it in the centre console, then started the engine.
“Thank you,” I said.
“You’re very welcome.”
I sat back then and rubbed under my eyes where the tears had dried in the heat, making my skin stiff. Even my nose felt dry and swollen.
We sat at the exit sign for a second until the traffic passed, then David took off down the street, going slightly over the speed limit. “How long have you had your licence?”
“A while.” He looked at my forehead and frowned; I wiped the sweat away with the back of my hand. “Oh, sorry, Ara. I don’t really feel the heat as much as most people. Here.” He turned on the air-conditioner. The suffocation of the heat eased after the first blast of hot air passed and the chilly wind blew against my face. “Is that better?”