Someone Will Remember Us

Ghosts Of The Past

Chapter One

"You can't seriously expect me to buy that bullshit."

No. No, I wasn't. But a bad excuse is better than no excuse.

I could have tried harder, made up some sob story about how clumsy little me slipped in the bathroom and hit my head on the sink. But what was the point?

Scott already knew what happened, so why was he asking? Did he want me to say it out loud? How would that change anything at all?

"What do you want me to say, eh?" I ask. I slam my locker shut with one open hand and Scott flinches.

He was giving me the pity look, the same one I always get whenever I come back with a new bruise.

"Look, man," he says in a much softer tone trying out a new approach. "All I'm saying is if you need a place to crash...you can always stay with me."

He starts studying my face carefully, probably waiting for me to break but I just shake my head.

"It's sweet that you care," I chuckle trying to turn it into a joke. Maybe he'll get the hint and he'll drop it, maybe he won't.

I turn my body and I start walking towards the stairs leaving Scott behind.

Scott wasn't the only one giving me pity looks. People took one glance at me as I passed them in the hallway and they averted their gaze.

That's right, don't fucking look at me.

I expected Scott to follow after me, tag along and try to find out what really happened but he didn't go after me. So he's giving up on me too, eh? Can't say I'm surprised.

I slow down a little and I turn my head to look if maybe Scott is still stood there. But he's not.

The hallway is busy with people talking, walking to lessons and looking into their lockers but Scott isn't one of them.

And I know I should be looking where I'm going. But what's the worst that can happen? I'll bump into someone? That's nice, I'll just push them out of the way, make it clear to them that it was their fault, not mine.

But Scott's not there. He left.

He left me.

Good. I was getting tired of him anyway.

And then I'm almost at the foot of the stairs and I turn my head. I know I've hit someone and it's purely my fault.

I turned my head and I hit straight into them. The top of my head hurts a little from where we've collided, I'm used to wearing a helmet but I'm also used to my dad beating the shit out of me so it's not like I won't recover. I've survived worse.

So I lift a hand to the top of my head because, obviously, when you press down on where it hurts then it stops hurting.

I tilt me head upwards with my right hand still resting on top of my head to see who I collided with.

He's standing on the last step and he's got a hand touching his jaw, probably where I've hit him. He's rubbing his hand down his jaw obviously using the same logic as me, he could just take the pain away if he tried hard enough.

I want to tell him to watch it, push him to the side and barge past him. But I can't.

My breath hitches in my throat and I let my hand drop from the top of my head.

Because he's there.

Here

Standing in front of me.