Permanent Scars

A Fair Affair

October 29, Tuesday. 10:22 a.m.

Shutting my locker, I'm surprised and annoyed to look up into Vicky's face on the other side. What does she want now? Furrowing my brow and instinctively lowering my gaze to the floor, I turn and start to walk away. This is a good method for avoiding conflict, I've learned.

At least it is most of the time.

Vicky grabs my shoulders and yanks me backward. "Hey, you flaming piece of garbage, what's this I hear about your caretaker calling my boyfriend a douchebag?"

   Her voice is grating, her nails are digging into my bony shoulders, her words are bitter poison.

   "I don't know what you're talking about," I grimace uncomfortably, squirming to get away from her, but this only makes her tighten her grip, hustling me into the nearest restroom and shoving me roughly at the wall. Her perfume is too strong and her jangly earrings are too sparkly and annoying.

"Vicky, stop this, I have to get to class," I manage to choke out. She uses this as an excuse to smack me harder, flinging my head against the paneling and eliciting an unhealthy cracking sound. Groaning in pain, I slide down to a crouch and bury my face in my hands.

   Victoria is seething in fury and hatred. If I so much as peek at her I just know she won't hesitate to beat me to a pulp. I wonder what Adam said to Tate, exactly. I mean, if Tate ticked him off in any way, I'm sure he might use colorful language. That makes me wonder just how verbally offensive he got, or if the bullies are taking things and running with them (which is likely) 'til the truth is practically a myth.

   Because as far as I recall, Adam hasn't been in close proximity to Tate. Not like I have.

   That sounds gross.

Even though my head is in pain, all I feel is emptiness. The past few days have been hosts for nothing more than various stages of trauma and shock, and Adam was there to pull me through each one. He's been especially gentle today, and Dylan has been too, for that matter. They're respecting my silence and they've done a pretty good job making sure no one disturbs me.

Up until now, that is.

   "I don't freaking care that you need to get to class," Vicky spits angrily. "This is much more important. What right do you think you have?"

   "The same rights as every other human on the planet," I whisper, scrunching my eyebrows against the pain in my head.

   This is the moment I dare to open my eyes and look up. She glares hard—boring holes into me, it seems. I take a deep breath and attempt to rise.

   Resistance is not Vicky's best friend. She shoves me against the wall so hard, I fall over and hit my head on the tile floor.

   A sharp stabbing sensation in my back implies she's stepped on me with her three-inch heels. "Let's see what your caretaker boyfriend can do about this one, loser."

   "He's not my boyfriend and he's not my caretaker," I mumble into the floor. The stabbing sharpens.

   "Last I checked, rogues don't have the right of speech." She stalks out of the bathroom, leaving me on the floor with a head full of overwhelming thoughts and searing pain.

12:03 p.m.

There's no way anyone will be able to ignore the bruise on the left side of my face. I've tried covering it with my hair but it just isn't good enough.

   I didn't pack a lunch today, so I pass my locker without stopping and join the others at our usual table, keeping my head down. Mia is sitting close to Adam, trying to get his attention. While this will always annoy me, it also gives me a small sense of relief. Maybe they could be a couple just long enough to make the girls stop bugging me. I'm not sure why they think Adam and I are in a relationship, but it's stupid and I hate it. Adam's my best friend and I love him, but I'm not sure I'm open to dating. My life is complicated enough without bringing that sort of thing into the mix. Not to be cruel, but he's kind of an emotional mess. Plus, I'd have to get Daddy's approval and that's not something I can deal with right now.

I suddenly wonder if Mia has one of Adam's hoodies, or if that's something reserved only for me.

   A sneaky idea pops into my head: what if I could convince the girls that Adam and Mia are a thing?

My thoughts are interrupted by Dylan taking a seat next to me.

On my left side.

Crap.

   "Hi Shortie," he mumbles, awkwardly picking up his food and taking a bite. When I don't respond, he takes a long look at me. I try to keep my head down, but it's hard because he's so silent and I know he hasn't stopped looking. Finally I'm forced to tip my head slightly and glance at him. His eyes widen in shock.

   "Whoa. Your face. It's—"

   Desperately shaking my head, I hold a finger to my lips, eyes wide, hoping he keeps quiet. Raising an eyebrow at me, he reaches past to shove Adam's shoulder.

   "What, Dyl?"

   "Shortie's face is swollen."

   "Is it?" Adam turns, alarm pitching his voice a note higher than I would like. Leaning toward, he inspects my face. I try to keep the left side out of his vision, not expecting him to do what he does next.

   He takes my shoulders and turns me, a scrutinizing frown on his face. Inspecting the swelling, he mutters a curse under his breath, then bends his head near my ear and whispers, "Who did that to you?"

   "It's nobody's fault," I find myself lying. "I fell over."

   "When?! Where?!"

   I push his hands off my shoulders. "In the restroom this morning. You know how clumsy I am. I had a dizzy spell. I'm fine, really."

   "If you're fine, you'd have told us about it, laughing."

"Maybe I'm too embarrassed."

"If you're fine, you'll let me touch it." He raises a hand and I flinch at the thought. This response provokes him to point a finger at me. "Aha. See, just thinking about it makes you flinch. Must be worse than you're letting on."

He sounds gentle and kind but part of me feels offended, like he's scolding me or something. I hate being scolded.

If he's seeing past my lie, I'm dead. He hates being lied to. I can't believe I had the nerve to, actually, but I can't let him know about the bullying. He has enough to worry about without dealing with my problems.

"A dizzy spell caused that?"

I nod, already feeling myself phasing out. That's my natural response to stressful situations. If I can't fight them, I ignore them. And right now all I want is to ignore the matter at hand.

"Why were you dizzy?"

I shrug. "It just came on suddenly."

"Maybe the poison's still in your blood. Do you want Tris to check on you after school?"

At the mention of poison, everyone at our table begins asking questions. I tune them out, feeling panicky. Why can't people just mind their own business?

3:07 p.m.

Vicky glares at me as I lag behind the boys. Adam's been worried about my face since lunch, and everyone else has started tittering about me being on drugs or something. Taking a quick precautionary glance at the boys' backs, making sure they're turned, I step aside and whisper to Vicky, "Adam and Mia are a thing now."

   Her painted-on eyebrows arch interestedly, the way they always do when she's received some juicy gossip. "Ooh, really?"

   She must be so delighted to have some new rumor to spread because she hasn't said a thing about me not having the right of speech.

   Shaking, appalled at my own nerve, I quickly scamper off to catch up with the boys, calling to them in an unnecessarily loud voice for them to wait up.