Everyone thinks they know the whole story even when they had no part in it.
This year, Lillian Rose is driven to prove her ex boyfriend's hands aren't wrapped around her throat anymore. She's digging up parts of herself she's long forgotten about...
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He enters the classroom with a bruise forming on his cheek.
Shades of purple color the right side of his face, the swollen bone slightly raised. While his eye is also a bit swollen, he still holds it open without a struggle. I notice the crew neck around his body is new, and even with his disheveled, beaten-up look he still manages to crack a grin.
"Sit down, Axel." The teacher doesn't look up from the board she's writing on, and Axel winces at the dry tone. My twin brother opens his mouth to respond, but a harsh look from the teacher has him closing it as he crosses the room towards me. I try to catch his eye, and he's determined to avoid it. Instead, he walks around me from behind to get to his seat.
He pulls out his chair with a squeak and the woman at the front of the class pauses from writing to raise an eyebrow at him. I hear a faint 'shit' from him, and then he looks up. "Your hijab is new," my brother tries to cover his tracks, "it's nice."
A girl behind us coos, and a few students snort. I roll my eyes and watch her run a hand down the purple head covering with a small smile on her face. Please don't blush, I think as she dips her chin in silent thanks.
Axel tensely sits next to me, and I give him four seconds to fidget. Our desks are against each other, so it's easy to slide my notes between them. I know my brother, so an extra lined piece of paper is also sliding onto his desk. He hesitates from taking the paper, and when he does my eyes dart directly to his knuckles, split and bruised. The pencil I was using ends up in his hand as well, and I feel his resolve crack.
Whispers hush around the class and Mrs. Yusuf silences them, moving to pass around papers. She stops beside me and slips a few bandaids onto Axel's desk. He whispers a "thank you," then leans down to read my notes. The questions pile onto my tongue, ready to launch at my brother. They quiet slowly when Axel starts unwrapping the bandaid only to stop and blow at his knuckles.
I bite my tongue and dig into my bag for a tube of Neosporin, which I uncap, and take my twin's right hand. He flinches, flexing it when I pat the ointment with my index finger onto his skin. The bandaids aren't necessary, but I place one between his fingers anyway and cover the larger cut. He finishes copying my notes and slides them back. At the same time, he snakes his foot around mine. I reach for his left hand once he drops my pencil and repeat the same process. I place more bandaids on this hand, the skin split more than his right and make a face when he presses the water-filled ziplock bag against his cheek.
"It's warm," I mumble, darting my eyes towards the teacher as she speaks. "And just water."
Axel shrugs and bounces his left knee. When I hear his labored breaths, I put pressure on the leg he wrapped around mine and he dips his head, knocking it onto the side of mine softly. My elbow finds its way between his ribs and he breathes out a silent laugh.
-
My Converse squeak against the tiled floors in front of the principal's office. I'm pacing down the hall, checking my phone every minute to watch the clock. Thirty times I'd checked my phone, using it once only to inform the group where we were. My backpack was sitting in a chair against the wall where I was sitting, although my knee bounced too much for me to focus on how much I should prepare for the car ride home.
