Bruised

06.

Natalie sat stretched across her bed, her book tucked against her elbow. The cover was long wrinkled, the spine cracked and chipped away. Its title used to be scrawled in bright orange letters, but they'd since faded, turning a muted sort of beige. The words were still clear, though; 'Ophelia and the Disappearance of the Opal Necklace'.

It was the epitome of trashy fiction, full of cheesy romance and cliches. Everything her dad would be against her reading if the bookshelf he'd bought for her was anything to go by. It was filled end to end with classics, from Jane Austen to Shakespeare, to modern classics like The Handmaid's Tale. The Ophelia series had been a gift from Nyra, a secret obsession, a guilty pleasure.

She giggled as she reached her favourite part. Ophelia, the teenage detective, was dangling off the balcony after being tricked by the butler.

In a few pages, her partner would save her. It would seem like they would kiss, but the butler would distract them. Ophelia would find the necklace, and the kiss would never happen.

Natalie was okay with it. She preferred the pining, anyway.

It certainly helped that Ophelia's partner was described awfully similar to Leon, with his tall lean body and black locks of hair. She could almost picture them there on the balcony together—her dangling from the edge, Leon appearing and grabbing her hands, pulling her up just until their lips were about to touch...

She smiled to herself. This was stupid. She kept imagining it, though, as she turned the page. She was allowed to be stupid sometimes.

And right now, all she wanted to do was stupidly picture herself with Leon on that balcony, kick her feet in the air, and blush all shades of pink.

Suddenly, a harsh knock came from the door.

Natalie only had a second to bury the book under her pillow before the door was pushed open.

"Nat, I'm home," her dad said as he stepped into her room. She smiled up at him, hoping she didn't look as guilty as she felt. He looked at her, frowning. "What are you doing?"

She probably looked strange, sprawled out on her bed with nothing around her. She sat straighter, lifting her arms into a stretch.

"I was just doing a bit of yoga," she lied. "To waken my mind, you know? Before I get back to studying."

He nodded thoughtfully. "Exercise is good for the brain."

Natalie nodded with him. Had he really believed her? She shifted uncomfortably, hoping to cover her lumpy pillow a little more.

"I saw that your English teacher handed back essays today," he continued. "How'd you go?"

"Good. First in all my classes. I got a 98 in Maths last week and a 100 on my latest Biology exam."

There was a slight pause. He'd noticed her deflection. "And English?"

"English," Natalie repeated. She'd been hoping to distract him from that. Throw numbers at him until he got confused and left her room. "I got a 92 for that essay, but I'm going to talk to her about it tomorrow. I think she missed some marks from the rubric. I got a 97 for Chemistry, too."

He ignored her Chemistry mark. "A 92? That's awfully close to a 90."

Natalie cleared her throat. "Well, it's not final yet."

"I hope not." He ran a hand over his face and nodded once. "You talk to your teacher tomorrow, okay?"

"I will, Dad," Natalie replied. She resisted the urge to roll her eyes. She would definitely look like an absolute try-hard, begging for a few extra marks in front of the class tomorrow when she'd already come first, but she'd do it anyway. She just said she would, didn't she?