Falling Daisies

Chapter 19

The art block wasn’t empty but it would do. I dragged Hazel inside and we found a corner in which she could hide away in. It was the Monday morning after the fallout from the party and so far I’d gotten no solid details from her about what happened and I wasn’t planning on pushing her.

She had stalked into school at lunch time looking like she wanted the ground to swallow her whole as people stared and whispers began. The oblivious few that didn’t know of the weekend’s events were now being filled in behind shielded hands and titters rumbled across the hallway as “the little slut” walked by them.

I put down my bag and began to pull my supplies out; lying them down on the table and plotting how I was going to do this. I’d had the idea over weekend when I was considering how to best console my friend. I’d never been one for wise words, I wasn’t the wise person, but I knew what anger felt like and how anger needed to be vented otherwise it built up and erupted like lava when it wasn’t dealt with.

“I just want to go home!” Hazel whined and face planted against the high art tables which made a hollow thud that had to hurt.  

“That would be letting them win and giving more people ammo to say it was your fault. You did nothing wrong – you have every right to walk around and not feel guilty! It’s that... that... thing that should be keeping his head down!” I grumbled as I recalled how earlier I’d overheard him telling the younger years how he got the black eye – somehow I don’t remember him ‘beating the crap out of Ben - to the point of unconsciousness’. The fact he would even brag about that was sick in itself.

“But it was my fault I...I...”

I stopped what I was doing and turned to her, a disparaging look crossing my face, “Hazel, I know it’s hard but... What actually happened that night?”

Hazel breathed in and then let out a shaky breath, tears stinging at her eyes and I knew whatever it was, had to of been bad. She folded her hands into her lap and she looked so innocent suddenly, a vulnerability that I didn’t even think it was possible for my shy and meek friend to show.

“When we got to the party Cassie just pointed to where the drinks were and just left me. I didn’t know anyone and I felt like a clown. The makeup I was wearing felt thick on my face and I wanted to wipe it all off and just crawl into bed there and then, but I was trying to prove myself to... to you.” She looked up shyly and I had to turn away. I couldn’t blame myself for this too.

“I went and poured myself a drink figuring if I got drunk then maybe it would be better. That’s how it always is in films right? I was struggling so some guy – one of Jason’s friends I think – offered to pour it for me. He turned away from me so I couldn’t see what he was making but - “

“Hazel,” I cut her off cautiously, “What did the guy look like? Did you catch his name?” A horrible suspicion washing over me.

She bit down on her lip, trying to remember. “No... I don’t know his name. But he was really tall... gingery hair... big build...”

I just gulped and nodded, allowing her to continue her story, figuring she might not be able to finish if she knew Antony Heyward had been the one to pour her drink. Antony Heyward, the guy with a reputation – all be it unproven – for spiking drinks at parties so someone ended up roofied. Joke or planned, I wanted to hunt him down and strangle him.

“I seemed to get drunk really quickly and it was like I wasn’t really there... Everything just got kind of blurry. My head was fuzzy and I didn’t have my glasses on so I couldn’t see anything properly either...”

She took in another breath and closed her eyes, I knew the images plagued her darkness too because she opened them just as quick with a shake of her head.