Decode // Michael Clifford

Chapter 4

10 . 25 . 2008

 

The next time I saw David in the halls, he had a black eye and winced with every step he made. Although I doubted Michael had the physical strength to fuck someone up that badly, I suspected he had something to do with it, and I wasn’t sure how that made me feel.

As the days passed, David’s bruises began to fade, and I saw no further sign of Michael. I began to relax. I thought that maybe he had forgotten all about me. I was usually easy to forget—not because I was plain—because I tried to blend in. I didn’t talk much, I didn’t wear flashy clothes, I didn’t do anything that would make me stand out.

I was just walking out of English, the class Haley and I were supposed to have together, a couple weeks after the incident with David, when Haley herself walked up to me. She tossed her light blond hair over her shoulder and smiled dazzlingly at me. “Hey, Quinny.”

“I hate you,” I replied without skipping a beat. We began walking in the direction of my locker, Haley swinging her empty arms and me clutching onto my books. “You’ve got everyone calling me Quinny.”

“It’s cuuuuuuute,” Haley sang delightedly.

“No, it’s not. Why weren’t you in class?” I questioned.

In answer, Haley pulled a small baggy of brightly colored tablets out of her pocket and waved them in front of my face. “Michael says hi,” she teased.

I gasped and swatted at her hand, desperately attempting to get her to put the baggy away. “Haley! Don’t just wave that around!” I waited until they were securely back in her pocket before asking suspiciously, “What are those, anyway?”

“Chill out, babe. It’s just LSD. For a good trip, you know? Weed just doesn’t cut it anymore.” She looked so casual as she explained this, as if it was no big deal. Indeeed, she probably didn’t see it as a big deal at all.

I frowned, but didn’t say anything else. I knew that she wouldn’t listen to anything I said anyway.

“Oh, and by the way, Michael wants you to meet him at his house on Saturday at five,” Haley tossed out, like she had just remembered.

I felt my heart stop. “What?” I choked out. “Why?”

Haley shrugged, obviously not caring very much. “Dunno. I think he likes you.”

I shook my head, almost laughing at the thought. “Do you think I should go?”

“Michael is hot.”

I rolled my eyes. “So?”

“So,” she emphasized, “when a hot guy asks you to come over, you come over.”

10. 28 . 2008

I didn’t know why I was here. Actually, that was a lie. I did know why I was here. I was curious, so curious that I would show up at Michael’s house on Saturday at 5, exactly the time he wanted me to. I wanted to know why, out of all people, he would ask me to come over. I knew I wasn’t anything to him—honestly I thought he had forgotten all about me. So why was he did he single me out now, weeks since the last time I had talked to him?

I tried to ignore the clench in my stomach as I walked up to Michael’s large house and stepped up the front steps. Just as I was steeling myself to lift my hand and knock on the door, it suddenly opened. I gasped and stumbled backwards, almost falling off the porch.

“Jesus Quinn, look where you’re going,” Michael’s voice invaded my senses, and he caught me by the arm before I could fall.

I flinched away from his contact and he glanced at me, a question in his eyes.