The Loner and the Prep (bxb)

Chapter Twenty-Two

The Highs and the Lows

Chapter Twenty-Two

Watson P.O.V

The rest of the day went without a hitch. The rumors that were spreading was the only thing that seemed to irritate me. The kids in my school were so good at lying about everything, making the wrong people look like innocent victims. Some people clearly didn't believe everything another said, which is why the rumors varied from one story to another, which is basically how rumors work.

The only person I didn't feel bad for was Elijah, who had the whole thing coming for him the moment he started dating Paige. Why did he have to go after one of the most dramatic girls in the school? You literally couldn't date a girl like Paige without some kind of drama starting up. They seemed to crave the attention drama brought, loved hearing rumors about themselves, and when the stories were bad, slandering the people who spread it — a never-ending cycle.

Before the final bell had rung, I had heard many different versions of the same event that I had personally lived through. Some said it was a fight over Elijah. Others speculated that it was because Lilly, aka mean girl, was making out with Elijah, and Paige caught them. Those were weird because they always questioned why Paige was still with Elijah when he had been a statue the entire time. Everything they said made me want to slam my head into the wall until I saw blood. Of course, by the time I saw blood, it would be moments before I passed out because of a concussion.

I was about to snap at the two girls who sat in front of me, Olive and Jenna, because they wouldn't stop running their mouths about the whole thing. You'd think it was the only exciting thing that had happened in their entire life because they were acting like it was. I was never more happy to hear the bell ring than I did then, and that was with the combined knowledge of the life I had waiting for me back at home. As dreadful as the next few hours could be, it would probably be better than the drama these two girls were fanfiction-ing about.

Aware of issues waiting for me at home, I walked out of the classroom in a hurry. It would still take time for me to walk home, which was time that would best be spent thinking and mentally preparing myself for a potentially drunk father. Knowing my father, he was either drunk or unconscious. I could only hope for the latter.

I walked to my locker quickly, not wanting to run into Keith or more drama tales. Or the drama itself, which appeared in the form of Paige. She looked as pissed as she did earlier, only it wasn't directed at anybody this time. She just looked pissed in general. I kept my eyes down, grabbing what I needed from my locker and left, glad that I didn't draw her attention. She looked like she wanted to snap at someone and ruin their reputation. Not that my reputation had much to brag about.

For a second, I pondered going to the music room and grabbing my cello, but I decided against it. I would rather take it home as rarely as possible than risk having it broken, as much as leaving it at school was a risk as well. It was weird, because I didn't want to take it home because my father could break it, and I didn't want to leave it at school because of my peers. It was a winless situation. I couldn't afford to purchase a new one, and with the loss of my instrument, the school would make me pay to rent one of theirs, the money greedy b*stards.

So as a last-minute decision, I left the school with my hands bare, hoping it was the right decision. I walked past my peers, some who roamed around the front of the schoolyard, probably waiting for the buses to get ready to leave, others for their designated rides. I walked past them all and onto one of the many sidewalks to begin my walk home.

For once, the walk was semi-peaceful. It was kind of relaxing to be surrounded by the silence of nature and not the annoying chatter between two girls in my last period. One of these days, they would learn to shut their mouths. If the rumor were about them, they wouldn't want their peers to be talking about it non-stop. This really didn't affect me that much, so I really shouldn't care, but it was annoying the crap out of me, and it had only been one day. I can't imagine what the rumors will be tomorrow.

The pitter-patter of my footsteps filled my ears, the beat off-tempo, but it was still music to my ears. I could find music in literally anything at this point, the perk of being a band kid. It could also be considered a downside when you can't focus enough to see a crack in the sidewalk. That single crack managed to knock me down, causing me to collapse onto my knees, scraping them slightly. I couldn't withhold my own wince at the tingling pain that the scrap caused. Being someone who was used to the abuse that came from a drunken father, a scraped knee was nothing compared to some of the things I've had to deal with.

I forced myself to get up, wincing slightly at the burning that was now coming from my faintly bleeding knees, knowing that it would take me so much longer to get home. I ignored it, though, making myself continue down the sidewalk, knowing I couldn't just stop and give up — just another reason to be glad that I didn't bring my cello with me. I don't think my knees would have been able to handle the additional weight.

The walk was no longer as pleasant as it had been before I fell, as the dull pain in my ankles consumed my train of thought, making everything blur into the background. I was generally startled when I snapped out of it, standing in front of my house. Even more surprised to see my father's truck not parked in the small lot, meaning he wasn't home. What a turn of events. I had assumed that I'd be coming home to my abuser. Instead, I get to go home to a peaceful empty house. Entering, I looked around downstairs before relaxing completely. If he wasn't downstairs, then he wasn't home.

An excited smile spread across my face as I wandered into the kitchen, looking around the kitchen to find a packet of chicken flavored ramen, putting it in a bowl with some water, and stuck it into the microwave. I microwaved it for its designated time, before taking it out. I grabbed one of the smaller forks, the one's dad didn't like, and walked up the stairs, blowing on the steaming noodles. Once I was in my room, I closed the door calmly, not having to worry about an angry man following behind me. The peacefulness was delightful.

I grabbed one of my favorite books off a small pile on the floor and spent the peacefulness eating a bowl of ramen and reading. You learn that little moments like that shouldn't be taken for granted. Who knows when I would be able to have a moment like this again.

Probably a long time, I thought as the front door of the house was slammed open, and stomping noises filled the downstairs level. I tensed up slightly, holding my breath slightly, knowing that if he wanted to, he'd hurt me. A single tear slipped out of my left eye as he stormed up the stairs.

I don't think I have to say what happened, but the remaining of my noodles ended up on the floor, and I ended up with a black eye.