Over the Edge

Ch.8-Backtracking

~Emmalyn~

"It's been three weeks and she's still alive! Tell us, Emma; what is your secret?"

I shot her a dry look as we entered English class. "Don't you have something better to do, Rose?"

She gasped. "But, Emma! I thought we were friends?"

I rolled my eyes. She was right, though. It had been three weeks since my first pizza-making job and world war III hadn't happened yet. I continued going into the pizzeria when I could, and what little conversation I did share with the enigmatic teen was short and strictly work-oriented. We hadn't exactly moved forward-we really hadn't gone anywhere-and it stood that the only thing I knew about him was his favorite movie and the fact that he could spin pizzas extremely well.

Even I could tell there wasn't a lot of progress happening here.

Luke grinned when we walked in, patting the desk next to him for Rose. Rose did an assortment of things every time she saw Luke. She blushed, fidgeted with her top, tucked her hair behind her ear, and then turned into a complete klutz around him. I thought it was cute. Luckily, though, she was getting better about the clumsy portion of it. She didn't trip over air nearly as often as she had.

"Hello, ladies," Luke greeted us as we sat by him. He was ever the charmer, and he and Rose definitely hit it off. In fact, they told me they already had a few ideas for their project. If only I could be so lucky.

Heart really wasn't so bad. The town was quaint, nicer and cleaner than Philadelphia had been. I got to know Clara pretty well, who basically sang my mother's praises. I hadn't talked to my dad in a while but I figured he was just busy with his job. It tended to happen when you were a federal agent. Everything was going well, and if not well, tolerable. And that's what had me a tad nervous. I was waiting for everything to blow up in my face. I knew from experience that long bouts of happiness brought on terrible storms of destruction.

I was prepared for another class of going it solo, and so you could see why I nearly fell out of my chair when Rhys walked in. Before the bell. You could see the shock and disbelief on everybody's face. Heck, even Mr. Matthews looked about ready to turn on the news and check if hell had frozen over.

"Holy hell, look who actually showed up on time," Luke murmured. I half heard him, lips turning down in a severe frown when I really took Rhys in. He was in his usual attire of boots, jeans, and this time donning a long-sleeved tee for the colder weather.. But his face was pale, eyes set in bags so purple they almost resembled bruises. His lips were thin and tight and his feet dragged. I wasn't the only one to notice this either, and yet nobody bothered to ask him about it.

Why did that irk me? I didn't know. Rhys certainly shouldn't have been any of my business.

He began trudging his way to the back of the classroom. I followed him with my eyes, catching Mr. Matthews' gaze. His eyebrows rose imperceptibly, as if asking me what was wrong with him. Like I was his baby-sitter or something. As if I should know.

I gave a slight shrug in return and he nodded, eyes flickering to Rhys a split second before landing back down on the papers he was grading. I knew what that meant. He's your partner, so go find out.

Right.

"Damn, he looks like he stepped out of an episode of The Walking Dead," Rose remarked. "I've never seen anybody look that bad."

"Whatever happened, he probably deserved it," Luke chimed in. I remained silent, fists curled in my lap. Did he, though? Sure, he was kind of an asshole. But something serious had to have happened for him to be looking like that. I shouldn't have cared what Luke or Rose thought and said. But I did. And that bothered me. It bothered me because I should have been thinking the same things, but I wasn't.