Faith Over Fear

Chapter 10

*Rylyn*

"So Matthew never showed up! Loner, are you?" May states behind me, smirking. I don't say anything. Matthew is coming home from visiting family. It's the first day back, a Monday in January. I shut my locker door and start walking to the bus, clutching my three ringed binder to my chest. It wouldn't fit in my backpack, due to all the books. I have some studying to do. I forgot everything on break... And we got tests next week.
"I was asking you something!" she says, catching up to me. "Are you gonna answer or are you-"
"Save it," I say under my breath. If I'm being real here, I actually am starting to get used to this. It's a regular thing, just part of the schedule. Why should I try to change it if it's not going to stop? It's been happening for about two months anyway. Nothing works really. The best I can do is ignore.
"Why so quiet? Miss your boyfriend, do you?"
"Why do you care anyways?" I nearly say. Almost. It's on the tip of my tongue. I keep my mouth shut and keep walking. Matthew and I are not "dating". What's the point? We're only in seventh grade. Plus it'd be too... I dunno, awkward?
"So you're dating someone poor, being quiet, and acting like a nerd. I guess you got a personality, did you go and buy one?"
"Please leave me alone," I finally say.
"Why? Afraid?" she taunts.
"No, annoyed."
"Got an attitude, do you?"
"No, I got a brain," I reply, trying to be smooth.
I almost added something else. But it wouldn't have been smart to, so I didn't. Even with that small remark, she slapped the binder out of my hands and snatched it up. I lunged for it. Precious information lies in there. Like notes from some people wanting to be friends and my grades... My science ones. I panic. If she finds my science work and finds out I'm getting D's....
"Want this?" she holds it above her head. Fury rises inside me. I have to get that back. Now.
"Give it" -I jump for it- "back to me!" She laughs and tilts her head up to look at the contents above. "No!! That's not your's! I need it!"
"I'm not dumb! I know it isn't mine..." She scans the paper even more before flipping the page. Her eyes go wide with delight, a sly smile dancing across her face. Then she murmurs, "But apparently you are."
I stop trying and let myself slouch with humiliation, trying to hold back tears. My secret's out.
"Crosses all over the place... Christian, Rylyn? You gonna run to your preacher and tell on me?" she states, mocking my embarrassment.
"Just stop," I mutter.
"God ain't gonna help you now, is He?"
I clench my fists, suddenly at the boiling point with my frustration. She didn't- She can't just do that! Did she feel any guilt at all? Maybe God hasn't seemed to be answering me lately, but He has eight billion people in the world to worry about.
"Just shut up!!" I yell at her. She raises her eyebrows in surprise. I surprised myself a little bit. I don't really say that... I don't know what came over me to give me that sort of courage. But she was mocking my Father!
"Why? So you can meditate?" she says, coming back to her senses.
I open my mouth to say something but then clamp it shut. I snatch my binder from her. "She isn't worthy of your time," a voice inside whispers. Then I turn around and walk away. I almost run all the way to the bus, praying she isn't following me. I don't take the chance to look back as I climb on. I sit in a seat by myself.
"I'm okay, she can't hurt me, I'm okay," I repeat in my head.
But deep down it does hurt, because the biggest bully in school knows one of my major flaws. My lips tremble and I start to cry, silently. No one needs to know I'm upset. I'm invisible to most anyways. I bury my head in my hands. If only Matthew were here. If only Dad were here. "Nope, he isn't, I've moved on from that," I force myself to say quietly. It's true for the most part. I look up as the bus comes to a stop in front of our driveway and break into a smile. An eager hand waves at me.
I get off the bus quickly, not caring if I'm still crying.
"Hi," I say to Matthew. He's bundled up in a new coat and hat, looking as proud as can be.
"Hey," he says as the bus pulls away. "So? Why were you crying? You aren't that happy to see me are you?" he asks, crinkling his nose.
"Why were you standing in my driveway?" I say as a playful comeback.
"Cause you're my friend," he say, cheeks red. From the cold or embarrassment, we will never know.
"Thanks, you're my friend too," I say. Please don't blush cheeks, please don't. "May's just giving me a hard time..."
"Don't let her get to you. She doesn't know what she's talking about anyways."
"You sound like Landon," I reply, heading up the driveway. A cold wind blows, nearly taking my hat with it.
Speaking of Landon, most of the tension between us has dissolved. We're just friends now but he's still overprotective sometimes and always is rambling about how May doesn't really know when to stop and to ignore her. Honestly, Matthew and I tend to tune him out. But the words are helpful sometimes.
"Ha, I guess so," he replies, grinning and following me up. "Mind if I come with you and retrieve some homework?"
"Um... Sure you can come. I gotta check with David first," I answer, pulling out my phone. I'm sure he won't stay long enough that he would come home. We trudge up the driveway, the cold air stinging our faces. David said it was okay "as long as there was no kissing involved ;)". I smile and show Matthew the text.
"Parents these days...," he says, jokingly rolling his eyes. I laugh, not wanting to correct him. "So over protective."
"But that's a good thing sometimes," I say, thinking back to when Dad kept me under his wing for my whole life.
"You don't get to do what you want though! It gets kinda annoying..."
"I guess so." The trait kept me alive, I can't forget that. I pull out my key and unlock the door. I gasp when I see David sitting on the couch, watching TV. Wait a second, it's Monday. Aw man, how could I forget that he doesn't go in on Mondays? Oh my goodness, this can get bad fast.
"Hey guys! What's up?" he asks, getting up to come and meet us. My heart rate goes hurdling upwards as I try to think of what to do.
"Hi Mr..." Matthew steps inside after me, being unusually open.
"Just call me David," he says, shaking his hand. "You must be Matthew."
I watch in shock as the two meet. I gotta think fast.
"I hear your Rylyn's-"
"Do you want some hot chocolate, Matthew?" I interrupt quickly, pressing my glove covered hands together in anxiousness.
"Sure!" he says. I lead him into the kitchen, putting my backpack in a chair and peeling off my winter gear.
"Do you want any, David?"
"No, thanks," he says from the couch. "I just gotta finish up a few things."
After we drink our hot chocolate, I grab my books and show him around the house, ending with my room.
"Cool easel," he remarks, staring at my unfinished artwork propped up in the middle of the room. The picture will soon be finished as someone getting ready to snowboard. I think it's turning out all right. But let me share a personal struggle with you: people always ask me who I'm drawing and usually it's someone made up. Honestly, it gets on my nerves but I try not to show it cause we're all different and know different people.
"My mom's working late tonight, and Carson's cooking," he says after a while of him staring at it and me not responding.
"Is he a good cook?"
"Are you kidding? He burns no bake cookies!"
"We can work on homework here, if you want. I still don't understand science," I offer.
"Sure, I just need to go and get my notebooks. I'll be right back."
"Okay," I say, watching him leave. When I see him walking down the driveway, I fall flat on my back on my bed and groan. Why is he so friendly to adults? When was that established in his Matthew mind? My phone rings and I grab it from my nightstand.
"So how was school?" Kayla asks immediately. Caller ID just explains it all. It takes all the fun out of prank calls.
"Same," I say. "But now Matthew's over here helping me with homework and David's home. What do I do?"
"Look, I love helping you out and everything, but I can't keep this up. I've given you all the advice I've got."
"Kayla?"
"Yeah?"
"Thanks for being here for me," I say, being genuine. That girl has probably spent more time on the phone with me than writing her stories about love. And that's a lot of time. "I know you've got your own life outside of me. So what's going with you?"
"Well, there's a dance next week and I was asked to go," she says.
"Oh really? Are you going?" I ask, standing up and watching Matthew disappear up his driveway.
"No, the guy's a snob," she says, laughing. "He was only asking me because his so called girlfriend dumped him and she hates me. It's revenge, you see?"
"That's dumb," I agree. "A guy should like you for who you are."
"Exactly! You should help me write the advice column for the school paper."
We talk for a few more minutes before hanging up. I sit down in the window seat surrounded by pillows. My heart threatens to pound my chest 'til it gets it's share of attention. I glance around and my prayer journal catches my eye. The bright blue cover has only been opened once, and that was Christmas Day. What are do you say to God anyway? Does He listen? And does He answer? I guess I've never thought about prayer too much, it's just something we do in church and before we eat. Maybe I'll write in it tonight, I've heard He answers.