your power || billie eilish

chapter four

I could feel my face go bright red. I scooted as far away from Billie as possible, until I was almost hanging off the edge of my seat. She leaned back, slouching down behind her desk, but I could feel her eyes on me. I wanted to rip my skin off. I wanted to cry. I wanted to slap her.

But, most importantly, I wanted to deny what she had just stated. I wanted to say, "You are wrong." Except I couldn't do that, because I suddenly knew why Billie looked so familiar to me: I'd seen her, that day, at the little record shop in the next town over. And she had also seen me, seen my sloppy kiss with Henry, seen how old he was and how young I was. She'd seen how wrong we were.

I did not speak for the rest of class. The teacher had to call my name three times in attendance before I responded. I was zoned out, terrified. My hands were still shaking when it was finally time to pack up and move on to lunch.

"Are you okay?" Billie asked. She sounded genuinely concerned. 

"Don't talk to me," I breathed, and then I stood up and left the room as quickly as I could. Still, I wasn't fast enough—I ran into the bathroom, and two seconds later she was in there, too.

I knew I was about to start crying. But why? Why did I have to cry on my first day of school because of some stupid comment made by this girl I don't even know?

"Leave me alone. Seriously," I said, without turning to face her. I was standing in front of the mirror. She was right beside me, her entire body turned toward me.

I'd tried to sound menacing, but my voice wavered noticeably. 

"What's wrong? Seriously, Julie, are you okay?"

I leaned down suddenly, checking under the stalls to see if anyone else was in the bathroom. Then I looked at Billie for the first time since she'd made that "boyfriend" comment. 

"You saw us," I whispered. Her face flashed with understanding, and she nodded slowly. I stared down at the floor, away from her and her brilliant eyes and her slightly chapped lips and her anxious expression. Her forehead was creased just the tiniest bit, her eyebrows raised in concern. She had a thin layer of freckles splattered across the bridge of her nose. I had freckles in the same spot. 

But instead of staring at her, I studied a single strand of red hair that was lying on the floor. Then I examined the grime between the tiling, the little pieces of lint and gum wrappers and dirt strewn over the ground. I could not look at Billie. I could not bear stand to see her face morph into one of disgust and disappointment—me, the stupid girl who was dating her teacher. It was like I was reading her mind, hearing all her thoughts of revulsion and pity and, above all else, regret that she had ever spoken to me. 

Stupid me.

"Julie," Billie said after a spanning silence. 

I did not respond. I could feel tears in my eyes. She was going to ruin everything, wasn't she?

"Julie. Look at me." Her voice had that ring of authority in it that I was beginning to acquaint with her.

I kept my eyes on the floor. I noted that my shoelaces were dangerously close to coming undone.

And then there was a finger underneath my chin. My head was lifted, evened with Billie's gaze. Her hand was cold and soft. She did not move it from where it rested along my jaw. 

"I didn't mean to upset you," she said earnestly. "But—are you okay? I mean, are you sure you know what you're doing, dating a teacher? You should report this, seriously."

"No. No. No, please, Billie, please do not tell anybody about Henry and I."

"Henry?" She echoed incredulously. 

"Mr Thompson," I corrected. "Please don't report it, Billie. Please don't mention it. I swear, I know what I'm doing and I've got it all under control."

She hesitated, her hand still on my face. Then she nodded. "Okay. But I'm serious—that's really messed up. You should end it. It's not healthy."

"I've got it under control," I repeated.

She dropped her hand. It felt like some major loss, her no longer touching me. I banished that mourning out of my mind and inhaled sharply.

"I should go to lunch," I said.

"Me too," she agreed. I hesitated, waiting for her to leave, planning to spend the rest of lunch period hiding out in the library or a bathroom stall. I felt like I'd just been stripped of all my privacy—this stranger knew my biggest secret. I was exposed.

Billie grabbed my hand, though, instead of exiting without me. She pulled me back into the hall and toward the cafeteria.

And I would never, ever admit it, but I felt something like butterflies in my stomach when she touched me again.

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