Permanent Scars

Understatement

November 26, Tuesday. 1:51 p.m.

Part of me wishes I'd agreed to split my attendance at the beginning of the semester. It would have been wise, I feel, to spend only a few days actually at school and the rest at home learning off the tablet they provided me upon registration. But no, I have to be stuck here with judgmental idiots who really don't care but pretend like they do, just because it gives them some false sense of purpose.

   "How's your arm today, Love?" Mia asks softly, leaning against my locker. Twitching my fingers experimentally, I shrug.

   "It's alright, but definitely losing feeling."

   "After school, come to my house at around supper time. We'll fix you up then. Okay?"

   "Sure."

"You really should be coming to take it every day, hon."

"I know, I know."

Although she suggested coming to her house every day for the Antidote, I haven't been able to keep that kind of commitment. Granted, it's only been a week, and I guess I could change my routine to fit her recommendations if I needed to. Thing is, the Antidote is strong. The first time I took it, its effect lasted clear through the weekend. Once it wore off, however, I was in a terrible state and ended up running to Mia's in the dark at three in the morning. I was driven but highly unstable and I don't really remember anything else. I'd like to bring some home with me, but she won't allow it. Rather unfair.

   Dylan and Adam are the reason I can't keep a commitment. The three of us have been hanging out consistently, exploring town and graffitiing the old station where my Initiation took place. And quite honestly, I enjoy it. Having them around has helped keep my mind off unpleasant things. At least during daytime hours. At night it gets bad, but I won't talk about that.

Speak of the devils, here they come. Dylan's shy eyes brighten and Adam smirks, bouncing an eyebrow while flipping hair out of his face. Dyl takes my things and Adam gives me a hoodie, each of them throwing an arm over my shoulder and leading me off to Study Hall. Behind us a few paces, Mia huffs and tosses her head in annoyance. I can't help feeling smug.

   Dylan ends up separating from us the minute we enter the room, having noticed Cassie alone in a corner and seeming to be confident enough to actually talk to her. He passes my things to Adam, and I find us a comfortable spot on the floor. We like it here. Out of the way, out of sight. As Adam hands my things to me, he leans close and mutters, "I know you'll hate me for it, but I've got some business with Tate after this, so if you'd rather not join me you can wait with Dylan or Mia until we're finished."

   A million questions throb in my head, but I don't ask any of them. I've learned that asking him things usually comes to no fruition, so at this point all I can do is nod and pretend like I understand. "I'll come with you, it's fine."

   "Sure about that? I know you two don't get along."

   Bit of an understatement, but sure, we'll go with that.

"I said it's fine," I reiterate in a small voice. Adam, seeing that I don't want to talk about it anymore, inhales deeply and settles into his homework.

3:05 p.m.

"Do you have to follow him everywhere?" Tate snorts as Adam and I approach. Adam sets his jaw and clears his throat warningly.

"I don't need her around," Tate points out. "I mean really. I asked you to meet me here, not her."

"We're a team," Adam says plainly. "She's my best friend, and it's my job to look out for her, just like it's her job to look out for me. She's my sidekick. Deal with it."

Tate rolls his eyes. "She doesn't need to be here. I don't need sensitive, selective, misinterpreting premature female ears listening in on my business."

"Don't talk about her like that. You know she's right here. How do you think that makes her feel?"

"You think I care?" The jock snorts.

Adam bites his pierced bottom lip in worry, casting a sidelong glance at me. I am chewing my sleeve and trying not to shake. Very gently, he takes me by the shoulders and makes me look him in the eyes, even though my bangs are hanging in my face and only slightly obstructing my vision. In quiet tones he kindly suggests I go wait for him on one of the benches around the corner of the building, offering to walk me there if it makes me feel better. I tell him I can do it myself, but he walks with me anyway. I know he really doesn't like leaving me out of things, which is much appreciated since I often am abandoned and left behind by all. At least there's someone in my life who understands and wants me to know I matter.

But do I matter?

It feels like eons before Adam returns, and from the look in his eyes, I can tell he felt it too. He sits beside me, all quiet and simple, knowing words aren't always necessary for bonding. Sometimes just the presence of another person is enough to make someone feel a bit less like they're a shadow. I feel like a ghost everyday, and people only pay attention to me for the sake of pointing me out for all the wrong reasons. The only people who don't put me under a spotlight or a microscope are Adam and Dylan. I am not sure about the rest of the band—they are a breed of their own. They're nice but I'm not sure I can refer to them as my friends, despite the fact that they've stuck around for quite a long time. Acquaintances is a category I'd be more comfortable with.

"Thanks for standing up for me," I mumble, picking at the fraying ends of my cuff.

"Not a problem," he shrugs. "You're worth it."

"He's such a jerk."

"That he is. But I got what I needed, and he got what he needed, so, there's that."

"Which is...?"

He doesn't respond, just takes an energy drink from his backpack, cracks it open, takes a swig. Been awhile since he's had one of those. Either that or I just haven't been paying attention.

Sometimes I feel like there's something just a bit off about him, despite our amazing connection and relatability. There are sides of him I know I have yet to see, and maybe it'll just take time because he's a rather closed off individual, like myself. But somehow I feel like I just won't ever know. I feel like he's hiding something, whether intentionally or inadvertently.