All Those Words

Chapter 5

Asa

I make it a point to talk to Sydney the next day at school. Not to find out about her and Calysta because it's too soon to be asking about that though Sydney had been ready to tell me yesterday.

I try not to pay attention to Calysta, not only because she makes it obvious that she wants to be alone but because I don't want to see the hurt on her face as I befriend her ex-best friend. So I spend the day ignoring her and kindling my friendship with Sydney and her group of friends which is easy because they accept me instantly. Some of the girls even flirt and ask me whether I'm single which I am but I'm not interested in any of them. I talk to them between classes, pass chits around during class and sit with them at recess even though it kills me to know that Calysta spends her lunch hour in the library.

Trixie seems happy that I've befriended the IT group in high school as if it automatically means she'll be a part of them next year. But she seems happier that no one knows about me living with them which kind of annoys me even though I'm trying to hide it, too. I don't want to make things harder for Calysta.

Days turn into weeks and instead of getting used to me and opening up at home again, Calysta stays locked up in her room, avoiding me altogether. She only comes down for meals or when she has to cook them and even then, she evades me as if I'm not standing in the kitchen, asking whether she needs help. Lennon seems to be the only one she talks to and even though her parents keep asking her what's wrong, she refuses to tell them. It leaves me in conflicted state because I feel terrible that I've hurt her to the point where she can't even look at me but I'm slightly relieved that she doesn't tell anyone. I'm scared of her admitting that the reason she's closed herself from even her own family is because of me.

So on a Thursday night, after weeks of her ignoring me, I get out of bed when I hear the sound of her hatchet being opened. I slink out of the room, shutting it so that Shale doesn't wake up. I place my hands on the railing of the staircase that she's now descending upon until her hand brushes against mine. The shock of feeling something on the railing causes her to miss a step and she falls forward. She gasps as I quickly slip my arm around her waist, catching her before she can fall and wake up the entire house. Then I gingerly let go when I'm sure she's regained her stability.

"Sorry," I whisper, finding her eyes in the dark. "Do you want a glass of water?"

I pray silently that she was in fact on her way to get a glass of water and not to use the washroom. Going downstairs with her is my only excuse to talk to her and when she walks past me without a word, I follow behind, thanking the Lord that she wants water.

I try to trace her footsteps because I'm still not fully accustomed to her house and I don't want to bump into anything. And I lean against the kitchen counter as she gets two glasses in the dark and places them near me. She then opens the fridge and pulls out a jug of water, pouring it without spilling even a little in the darkness. She doesn't wait for me to take a glass, she picks up hers and gulps it down. So I do the same and finish before her so she can't make a run for it.

"So I figured out the reason each of the kids were taken in by your parents," I say casually because I don't know what else to talk to her about.

I knew Sydney would be a touchy subject and I don't want to bring it up just yet. I haven't found out why Sydney treats her the way she does but I know that there are always two sides to a story. And I know for a fact that Calysta isn't going to be the first one to tell me her side.

"Lennon told me she has dyslexia," I continue but she's putting away the glasses. "Shale stutters. I'm guessing they just picked up Yuna because she was cute and Trixie is obviously a problem child with that bitchy attitude of hers."

She opens the fridge to put the jug of water away and I get a glimpse of her expression. She looks like she's at war with herself about whether she should speak or not and I silently will her to. She shuts the fridge and I hold my breath as she passes me. She isn't going to speak, I think but then she stops.

"Trixie isn't a bitch," she says so softly, I could have missed it. "She has bipolar disorder. It's not her fault she gets angry easily. And Yuna was abandoned at a church. They didn't pick her up because she was cute.

I'm a little taken aback at her response. It's been the most she's spoken to me in the three weeks that I've been in her house. She also spoke without stuttering which was a first. She always seems to stutter when she's scared or embarrassed. But what shocks me the most is that she stands up for Trixie without a thought which is something that Trixie hasn't done. Despite how horrible she is to Calysta, she still stands up for her and it makes my chest ache. She cares about the children her parents foster and I've been in enough families to know that not everyone treats fosters kids as nicely as she and her parents do.

"Sorry," I whisper, feeling like a jerk for assuming even though I was just trying to make conversation. "I just wanted to talk to you."

"Goodnight, Asa."

She starts walking again and I rush so I can catch her before she leaves again. I've been watching her walk away from me for too many days. I can't do it again. So I reach for her, only to trip over the coffee table in the living room.

"Shit," I cuss and she turns around.

My heart soars when I realize that I've got her attention so I play it out. I fall to the floor, my hand on my foot as I groan in pain. And it works so perfectly well that she falls to her knees beside me.

"Are you okay?" she asks, sounding panicked. "Let me put the lights-"

I grab her before she can get up and she gasps. I pull her close enough that her face is inches away from mine and her eyes widen. She tries to pull away but I have a good grip on her, making it impossible for her to move away.

"I only joined that group because you told me to leave you alone," I tell her. "I'd much rather hang out with you than them. They're too – perfect and mean. I need-"

I stop when I realize that she's breathing hard like she's on the verge of a panic attack. I lose the grip I have on her hand when I feel my heart skip a beat in the fear that I've scared or hurt her again. She wrenches her hand away from my grasp and gets to her feet. It's clear to her now that I was exaggerating how badly I got hurt. She looks down at me one last time before rushing up the stairs.

How many times has it been that she's run away now? It seems to be a habit for her – running away when she's scared of something. And it makes me think about what could have happened to her to make her so afraid of being close to people. How much has she been bullied that she can't talk to anybody and refuses to even look anyone in the eye? How bad has she been hurt that just befriending her assailant has made it impossible for her to talk to her own family just because I'm in the same room?

"Cal," I call after her but my voice too soft and she's too far away already. "Don't misconstrue my feelings. I'd rather be your friend than theirs."