Perfectly Faulted

Chapter 8

"Skye! Hey Skye! Wait for me!" yells Evan, running behind me as I walk out of the school front doors.

"Hmm? Oh, sorry. I wasn't really..." I trail off, not knowing what to say. My mind is somewhere else right now.

"Skye, are you okay? You seem... out of it. Is something wrong?"

"I'm fine, Evan."

"No you're not. You're worrying about Ryan, aren't you? I have been too, you know."

"Fine. But he hasn't been here all week. Last time I saw him was Halloween," I reply.

"I really hope he's alright," says Evan as she turns the corner and begins walking up the front steps to her house. "See you Monday."

I wave and keep walking, but while my mind tells me to go home, my feet follow their own path and make their way to Ryan's house. They walk me up his front steps, and my hand rises up to knock on his door. I wonder to myself if this was the right thing to do, if he and his parents will be bothered if I come at such an unexpected moment. But then I realize that I cannot just accept the fact that Ryan has not shown up for five days, and I am truly worried. No one answers the door, and I notice the dead rose bush in the corner of the yard. Of course, it is supposed to be dead, we're in early November, but for some reason it strikes me. November is a sad time; nothing is blooming, nothing is left alive. That is why I hate the winter and late fall.

I knock again, four short raps on the dark door that echo through the otherwise silent neighborhood. I step away from the door when I begin hearing footsteps approaching from inside the house, then the automatic light in the entryway turning on inside. The door opens, and I find Ryan standing there, but it is not the Ryan I know. His cheeks are red and blotchy, his eyes are pink, his hair is messy, his skin is pale and his hands  tremble at his sides. He looks like he has been crying for days. 

"Skye," he whispers softly.

"Ryan, oh my god, Ryan, what--"

"Skye, let's go to the park down the street, okay?" He begins mumbling to himself. "It's okay. It's okay. Okay." He clutches his head and spins around once; I say nothing. He takes my hand and closes the door behind him, pulling me down the stairs and out into the street.

"Come on," he says, beckoning to me. We run to the park, and he collapses onto a bench next to the empty swing sets that move in the wind. I shiver. It is a cold day, and I fold my arms together to conserve my body heat. Ryan sits next to me, trembling and wearing only an old gray t-shirt and jeans. 

"Do you want my jacket?" I ask.

"No, keep it. I'm okay. Not cold. I'm okay."

"Ryan, tell me what's wrong," I beg, suddenly afraid of what he might tell me. He gets up from the cold bench and paces in a circle. His shirt is too big, hanging low underneath his neck, and I see red marks on his back. "Ryan, what's on your back?! Please tell me!" I am yelling now, desperate for an answer. He places his normally strong hands on my shoulders, but now, I feel that they are shaking. He looks down at the ground.

"My dad. He--he got drunk. He used his belt and hit me." Ryan pauses here and swallows. "My mom--she started screaming. He didn't like it, so he hit her too. Our neighbors heard, and they called the police. My dad's in jail now. Since Monday. My mom needed to find a job, because he was the one who had all the money. She finally found one, today, as a part-time nurse. She actually applied for the job before, and with her previous experience as a doctor, she was perfect, but Dad didn't want her to work. The post has been open for a while, so she took it. But she is looking terrible right now. She's been staying in the house all week, not going outside, and she's sick. It's just a cold, but she can't handle all this alone. I had to take care of her, and of my little sister Jean. She's only seven; she shouldn't be going through all of this. She doesn't really understand. But I have to help my family. I'm sorry for not coming to school. I've just been so worried about everything, and I--I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry, Ryan. Let me see your back." I lift his shirt and cringe as I see the red scars streaking across his body. Tears spring to my eyes. "Oh my god," I whisper. "Ryan, if there's any way at all that I can help..."

Ryan twists around on the bench and throws himself into my arms, his tears flowing onto my blue jean jacket. "Thank you, Skye. If you can just be a good friend, that'll be enough. I just need someone, someone to hold on too. If not, I'll just fall."

"Of course! I'll be your best friend, Ryan. Don't worry. I'll be here for you. And so will Tim, and Evan. We'll all stand by you. I promise." I cannot stop the first tear from streaming down my cheek. "I can even help you out with your little sister if your mom ever has to work longer hours." Ryan holds me even tighter, shaking silently. 

"I can't thank you enough for being in my life, Skye. I honestly have no idea what I would do if you weren't in this school with me." I smile through the tears, and we stay entwined in each other's arms for what seems like an eternity.

The early-setting November sun dips down beneath the trees and we let go of each other.

"I have to go now. My mom will worry," says Ryan, wiping his tears on the fabric of his shirt.

"Okay." I get up, brushing my hair to the side. I pull him closer to me, then kiss his cheek. The salty taste of his tears is still there, but otherwise, his skin is soft and smooth. He wraps me in one last hug, and I breathe in his scent of sweat and mint gum. "See you, Monday, okay?" I say. "It's going to be alright."

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Author's Notes: Well, what did you think? I really hope you liked this chapter, it's pretty emotional and I worked really hard on it. Until next time! The story will be continued next week....