Our fallen souls [EN] (High Enough) : VOLUME 1

26 - Blake & Joséphine

The food here is really disgusting," says Cassie, tossing her fork onto her tray.

I roll my eyes and catch the meat on my fork with my teeth.

"You should eat, Clyde," she says, watching my brother play with his food.

"Eat," I order him.

I glare at her, and her answer is just a middle finger. I let my gaze roam the dining hall as I try to eat. My gaze settles on her. My eyes widen when I recognize the guy she's talking to, or at least trying to get rid of.

I leave her, watching the scene carefully. I keep myself from exploding, from throwing myself at him, because I know that would be a bad idea. She grips the shoulder strap of her bag so tightly that her knuckles turn white. I notice she's sending him various smiles, each more hypocritical than the last, trying to get him to leave politely. She gesticulates, leaning first on one foot, then the other. But I can see the fear in her eyes, hidden behind that mask of pretence. My fist clenches involuntarily, but I breathe deeply to keep my composure.

"What are you staring at?" asks Cassie.

Before I can answer, she's already turned her head towards Joséphine.

"Who's that guy with her?" she asks me as she watches the scene.

"Her fucking ex."

She widens her eyes in turn, then stands up, leaning on both hands.

"What are you doing here?" I say, taking a firm hold of her hand.

She stops abruptly.

"I save the day. You're obviously too proud to save your sweetheart," she snaps.

Fuck you, Cassie.

I release her hand and watch the scene in the distance. Joséphine is more than capable of taking care of herself, but it burns me not to be near her.

Joséphine

Before the tension between us can escalate, Cassie suddenly intervenes, slapping me on the shoulder.

"Joséphine! You're not going to believe this!" she exclaims excitedly.

I glare at her, wondering what she's up to.

"Oh, I didn't see that," she says, looking Kyle up and down.

Kyle's green eyes stare back at her intensely, but she answers with a charming smile.

"Sorry, I need to talk to him," she adds, taking me by the arm and leading me out of the cafeteria.

Once outside, I can't help but ask her impatiently, "What the hell is this?"

Cassie puts her hair back on her shoulder, looking satisfied.

"Don't thank me!" she replies mischievously. "What's he doing here anyway?"

"Cassie, I haven't heard from you in a week! What's been going on?"

My concern is palpable as I look at her, anxiously awaiting an answer. But Cassie seems to hesitate, her eyes scanning the ground, and her feet playing nervously with the pebbles.

"Cassie? Damn it, I want to know what's going on!"

I try to keep calm, but the growing uncertainty is eating me up inside. She plays with her bracelet, as if searching for the right words to tell me something difficult.

"Blake and Clyde's father is...," she begins.

I put my hand over my mouth, unable to utter a word. She seems as uncomfortable as I am with the news. And then I realize that this is probably why everyone has moved away.

"How did this happen?" I finally ask.

She seems to ignore my question, subtly diverting the conversation.

"Joséphine," she begins, taking my hands in hers, "I'm sorry I distanced myself from you. I couldn't bear to see Clyde like that, and if you'd seen, you'd have pestered me for more. Blake didn't want you to know."

A feeling of paranoia gradually takes hold of me, fueled by images of Blake's bloodied hands, his panting breath echoing in my head.

"I would never hurt you," he repeats to me. "I'm the son of a criminal."

Scenes flash through my mind: Blake leaving Peter's house, fists bloody, wandering like a zombie, all eyes on him in the hallway, Shelby and James passing by handcuffed, under everyone's scrutinizing gaze. Everything gets mixed up in my head, all the stories he's involved in spinning around like a broken record.

"Joséphine? Are you all right?" Cassie asks me in a distant voice, as if she were miles away from me.

I look up at her, regaining awareness of the surrounding reality.

"I've got to talk to her. Now," I declare, rushing towards the cafeteria.

"No," she says, holding me back by my sweater. "Not now, it's too crowded. He'll be at the gym tonight, try to talk to him then."

Her statement calms me slightly.

"Why would he go to the gym?" I ask finally.

"I don't know why! He just told me he was going back to the gym to get away from it all."

*

I gather my books from the table and quickly stuff them into my bag. My heart is beating too fast since I made the decision to clear the air tonight. Blake is no doubt aware that I'll have to talk to him sooner or later.

I admit that my feelings for him go beyond what I had imagined. My heart is like an artichoke, fragile and complex. I tend to be attracted to boys who are a little strange, with an element of madness. I'm not saying Blake is crazy, but sometimes he acts enigmatic. I shake my head slightly at these thoughts as I automatically head for the gym, where I plan to meet him. Night has fallen, and the wind is blowing outside, causing the leaves on the trees to whistle melancholically. As I enter the gym, I hug my arms to my chest to protect myself from the biting cold.

Inside, I sneak discreetly around, scanning every nook and cranny for the slightest sign of a presence. In the distance, I hear the rhythmic thumping of a punching bag. If he were to take up a sport, it would be boxing. It suits his temperament perfectly. Stepping quietly forward, I pass through a sort of doorway before catching sight of him. Shirtless, dressed only in jogging bottoms, he's taking it easy on the punching bag. The sight of his athletic body makes me aware of my accelerating breathing. With each blow, a drop of sweat falls from his messy hair, crashing to the floor. I look away briefly to compose myself, then approach him, walking with small steps. The room is filled with an electric energy, and I can almost feel the force of his blows through the air. I try to silence the butterflies in my stomach, reminding myself of the purpose of this encounter, no matter how confusing or painful it may be.