ɴᴏᴡ ᴏʀ ɴᴇᴠᴇʀ ⇢ ᴊᴇʀᴏᴍᴇ ᴄʟᴀʀᴋᴇ

eleven

"JUDGING BY THAT LOOK on your face, I'm guessing you aren't enjoying your purple hair?" Jerome asks innocently, biting the inside of his cheek to stop his laughter.

"No, no, this look of absolute death and hatred means I love it." Marissa replied, sending the boy a false smile, messing with the dye in her hair to see if it would stain her fingers. It didn't.

"Well perfect then." Jerome says, moving to walk away. Marissa jumped on his back, letting his shoulder drown out her laughter. He couldn't hold it in any longer, either, and he almost fell over with the power of his laughs, plus Marissa's.

But it was okay, because maybe, just maybe, Marissa started to hate the boy a little less every day.

-

It's been a week since Marissa opened the letter. Despite it not being the best idea in the world, the girl hid the letter away and tried to not think about it. Jerome has helped keep her mind off things. In the week since they 'commenced' their friendship, the two have been inseparable.

Alfie was confused, Victor was confused (pretty much the entire house was confused), Patricia and Joy were ecstatic. The two didn't care, though, they have five years of friendship and bonding to catch up on. And Jerome's way of giving that a kickstart? By dyeing Marissa's hair a different colour.

"This better wash out, or you're dead," the girl threatened after she jumped off Jerome's back. Jerome retreated down to his bedroom to find the hair dye bottle he used, hoping and praying to any God willing to listen that it won't last too long.

Marissa followed (because he didn't give any indication he was going to leave and she looked awkward standing in the middle of the hall alone) and jumped on the boy's bed when she arrived, scaring Alfie who was reading a comic book.

"It says two to three days," Jerome says slowly, slightly terrified for Marissa's reaction. He was (pleasantly?) surprised when he found her making herself comfortable on his bed. She laid her head on his pillow, giving out a 'meh' sound. Jerome chuckled, putting the box away. "Aren't you glad I picked purple and not a neon orange?"

Marissa didn't answer, and that's when the boy had to actually make sure she was still conscious. In the week they've spent together, Jerome learned that the girl has the tendency to fall asleep a lot.

"Marissa!" Jerome called loudly, promptly scaring the girl, resulting in her falling off of the bed.

The boy is fairly certain she said some words that closely resembled the 'what' sound, but he doesn't know for sure over his and Alfie's laughing – which Marissa likes to describe as overly obnoxious hyena yacking.

"You two are mean," she said, sticking her tongue out at the boy.

The two exchanged a look after finally calming down, and agreed simultaneously.

Marissa rolled her eyes. She couldn't be too upset, though, she did, after all, sign up for this.

-

It was Monday morning, and Marissa Bradley was late for school. She doesn't know why Patricia and Joy didn't wake her up sooner (actually, she knows exactly why), but by the time she got out of the shower with a successful grin on her face (all the purple finally washed out), she realized the entire house was empty.

If she weren't so late, Marissa would plan her housemates' untimely demise. Unfortunately she's too late.

The girl ran out of the house so fast she might as well have flown. She quickly caught sight of the faded white painted building just a few meters down, she was almost there.

Just as she was about to perform her victory dance as she made a stop outside the front doors, did Marissa realize that someone was standing right behind her. She knew right away who it was; she could see his reflection through the doors.

Her breath became fast and laboured, her hands started to shake. She hasn't seen him in a week. One whole week without the lingering sting of anxiety perched on her shoulder, waiting to strike. One week since she thought the boy removed himself from the school all together.

Marissa was too busy trying to keep herself from falling due to the suddenness of the situation and lack of sugar in her body (always eat breakfast, kids), she didn't realize that Brandon Samuels wasn't alone.

It wasn't until he spoke that the girl realized that it wasn't the sixteen year old boy she went on two dates with that she should be afraid of. It was the big, burly man beside him that Marissa is pretty sure is going to take that responsibility. His father.

"How are you, Marissa?" Mr. Samuels said, standing far away enough that the girl could run if she needed too.

"You know," Marissa started, "I really shouldn't be talking to strangers."

To her surprise, the man laughed. "You were right, son, she does have a big mouth." His face turned stern. "I don't think she realizes the trouble it could get her in to."

Marissa gulped, avoiding eye contact with both the males in front of her. "I really should be getting to class."

"Not quite yet," the man said. "You see, my son here," he patted Brandon on the back, hard. "He doesn't seem to grasp the concept of 'not giving away too much'. You, Marissa, know too much."

The colour drained from Marissa's face, and Brandon's father noticed. "Relax, I'm not going to hurt you, Ms. Bradley. I'm just here to make sure you don't go to the police about what my son told you."

"How do you know I haven't already told them?" Marissa asks, surprised at how bold her voice sounded.

The man seemed surprised too, but he didn't let it show for long. "Trust me, we'd know," he said, his face became hard and his eyes set in a glare. Marissa pities Brandon if this is what his father was always like. Sure, her own father didn't care for her all that much after her mother died, but he wasn't a naturally cold person.

Her words not working anymore, Marissa gave a small nod and opened the school door, too afraid to look back and see if Brandon and his father were still there.

She retreated into the school, her head in a web of thoughts and questions, replaying the scene over and over again, but one question stuck out more than the rest, one that Marissa doesn't know if she would even want the answer to: why did he say 'we'?

(note!)

first chapter of act two!!

okay im gonna be completely honest here, I didn't know how the heck I was gonna write this chapter, because I realize I gave away too much in earlier chapters for my original plot to pan out properly.

now the plots a little altered, but dw it's going to be okay

spoiler alert: it's now going to be a bumpy ride.

hope you enjoyed (vote!)