Because You're Different ✔

47. Tomato

June

"O my god, June! What happened?"

Hayley was staring at my legs with widened eyes, hands covering her mouth. I looked at hers, under her shorts, still a little tan from the summer, smooth and hairless. Mine probably made it seem like someone had wanted to butcher me. No, it wasn't that bad — only three big gashes, one that wouldn't clot, and a dozen or so tiny cuts you only saw if you were concentrating.

"I shaved."

Hayley blinked. She wanted to say something; she'd already opened her mouth but decided against it. Instead, she tilted her head, inspecting all of the self-inflicted wounds I hadn't meant to make. "They're gonna think you're a cutter," she said. "Look at that. Please, sweetie, let me do it for you the next time. That must hurt like hell."

"It doesn't." It sounded a lot snappier than I'd meant it to be, so I mustered up a smile and lifted my arm. "I didn't do my armpits. Knew I'd probably end up cutting off a limb." She grimaced, apparently at a loss for words. I didn't like it. She was overreacting; it wasn't as if I'd done this to myself on purpose. "It's fine, Hayley. It'll heal soon enough. Come on, let's get to class."

She didn't respond, although I noticed her stealing glances at my legs every so often. They were itchy; I had to keep myself from scratching them, because when I did, I only caused more marks to appear. Skin was incredibly sensitive. Valentina had never told me that, but now I understood why she smeared those creams all over her body after a shaving session. I should've done the same.

Hayley was exceptionally quiet during AP Spanish. It annoyed me; this was my choice, my self-picked fate, unlike dad who'd suffered from a heart attack and was forced to leave his well-paid job — my choice, and she had no right to act like it was an insensible one. I wasn't like her. I didn't stop myself from doing things just because they were a little difficult. If I did, I might as well quit living altogether.

When the bell rang, making me jump and crash my knee into my desk —yes, ouch— I wondered if I could ditch her and work on some of my coding in the library, when she already said: "What about we sit with Sam in the cafeteria today?"

Fine. We rarely did — Lena's mural was still our go-to spot. For once, however, I could do with some distractions around us. Plus, a table would hide my injuries. She wouldn't be able to throw them any more glances.

Sam was in the company of a few other guys from our year; loud, annoying as hell teenage boys, either wearing too much deodorant or too little, some of them growing out something they in all seriousness called a beard. Yeah, right...

I stuffed myself with my self-prepared salad, so I wouldn't have to talk to anyone. I was a little too enthusiastic, almost choking on the stem of a lettuce leaf. Luckily, no one noticed — although I did hope someone would have if I'd actually been dying. Hayley was shaking her head at Sam, who was trying to show off by making all his friends laugh about crappy jokes, probably to impress her. It wasn't working, thank god.

"Hey, June. Looking good today."

I was absolutely not paying attention to my surroundings; Malik's voice took me by surprise, causing my arm to fling itself forward. The cherry tomato on my fork soared through the air, splashing against Sam's chest. "Ah, June, gross!" The others, including Hayley, roared with laughter, while I grew increasingly red, the color of the splatters on Sam's unfortunate T-shirt.

Malik grinned down at me, his backpack casually hanging from his shoulder. He was one of those guys that seemed too perfect to be true, which probably meant he was. Flawless dark skin, a big innocent smile, old-style manners, amazing fashion sense, member of the football team, and, surprisingly, full of brains. Well-trained brains. I knew I shouldn't be annoyed about a senior being smarter than me, but I was. All the time. Especially when he fixed my code for me. I never had to help him. "Sorry, girl," he said. "Guilty conscience, heh? What you been up to?"