Crooked Smile (WINNER of the MJFA'S 2017)

Chapter 8 - Salt in Water

Once inside, Marilyn's steps quickened, she was almost running now. She had no aim. She hurried down the length of the building, past Michael's still up-turned bicycle, oblivious of the radio, until she reached the wall and the window at the other end. Her chest was tight. She looked out at the backyard, then turned to face the garage, then back to the window. Michael was still outside, she couldn't see him. She was desperate. She couldn't calm herself down. She didn't want to face him, she just wanted to run away. She considered just leaving without a word – just going somewhere, no idea where, just away, and leave him and his bike to finish up alone. But she knew she couldn't do that. How much had he heard? Certainly enough. Obviously enough! So much that he had felt the need to come outside and intervene. So much that he had come outside and had been seen with her, with ugly-Edmond.

Is she your girlfriend? Man, look at you. You can do better than that!

Of course he could do better than her. Everyone could do better than her. How ashamed he must have been, having to stand up for her. He was a good guy. He didn't deserve this. He had stood up for her, even though she was ugly-Edmond. Even though she was a scarecrow with a bird's nest on her head. Even though she was the cause of his broken bicycle and his injuries. She wanted to get out, physically get out, and could not, because she didn't even know what exactly it was she wanted to get out of. Her breathing was erratic, she couldn't keep still.

Then she heard the door to the garage being opened and closed. Her long fingers gripped the windowsill. They were icy cold despite the warm weather. Through the radio's crackling song, she heard the soft sound of his sneakers as he slowly walked down the room. There was a clinking as the wrench was put down, then the softly tapping feet came closer. Marilyn closed her eyes.

"Who were those guys?" Michael's voice sounded puzzled.

Marilyn didn't answer.

"Are you okay?" Now there was worry in it again.

She mustn't cause a scene on top of it all. He had had enough drama for one day. He didn't deserve any more.

Trembling she turned. "They are my classmates," she said with difficulty and a petrified stare straight ahead.

He looked at her surprised, shocked even.

"Do you still want to go to school?" Her voice rose in pitch. As if looking down on herself, she realized she wasn't doing very well at not causing a scene, but somehow she was too far removed to do anything about it.

"In itself I still do want to, yes. But not particularly with those three..."

She felt like a wild animal caught between the wall and him. She started to move frantically in her confined space.

"I don't know what's the matter with them! I don't know why they are that way! I really don't! I didn't do anything to them!"

"Marilyn..." Michael came closer, making her space even smaller.

"I never did anything to them! I swear it on the Bible! I swear it on the Lord Jesus himself!"

"Girl..." He reached for her shoulder.

She shrugged his hand off. "No! Let me!"

But he wasn't to be shrugged off. He reached for her again and pulled her against his chest. At full height she was still one head shorter than him. He put one arm around her back and one around her head, holding her cheek to his throat. She felt his chin on top of her head.

She struggled against his hold. The pain, humiliation and shame she felt were insubstantial. She wanted to get away from them, but there was nothing she could do. Against them, she was helpless. The only substantial thing around was Michael, and so she fought him.