Chapter 33: Chapter Sixteen-2

I take a bow and smile at them. Hope you enjoyed the show, I think. In that moment, I take my leave and head back to Chemistry, hoping Mr. Kingston hasn’t gotten there, yet. Don’t want to be late for class. *           *             *               *               *             * “You have to put feelings into your art,” Ms. Parker says, using her hands in mid-air to show us. “Express yourself within your art and it will turn out beautiful.” She has a hint of a Spanish accent whenever she talks. Art class is one of the few freelance classes. We don’t have to strictly do something. Ms. Parker gives us choices and just lets us do whatever—as long as it has to do with art—while she goes on her computer and plays opera music. “That’s today’s objective,” Ms. Parker says. She claps her hands. “Chop-Chop!” Everyone else scrambles to get their materials and I follow shortly behind. When I reach the materials area, everyone takes a step back, like they’re afraid of me—which they are. I accidentally bump into a petite girl with large glasses. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to touch you! I’m sorry!” She hides behind her hair. “I’m really sorry! I didn’t mean to. Don’t hurt me.” I glare at her. I was going to say it was okay but when she said, “don’t hurt me,” it ticked me off. It’s not like I’m just going to go up to a stranger and beat them up! Rumors had spread like wildfire after the little incident with Peter. Some people said I was part of the mafia, others said Peter beat me up. Some even said that I beat up everyone in his Biology class. Yeah, they were pretty exaggerated and crazy. I wouldn’t even be able to hit another person because my hand was already bruising at the knuckles and it hurt like hell. I sigh as the petite girl continues to ramble on with apologies. Walking past her, I grab the materials I need and head back to my table. It usually fits about four people, but I’m the only one there today. “Can I go to the bathroom?” I ask Ms. Parker when I can’t take the stares and glares anymore. I need to get away from here. People are burning holes into the back of my head. “Sure, honey.” Ms. Parker smiles at me and I nod before taking off. In the bathroom, I splash myself with water many times before I dry myself off. I look straight in the mirror of my crazy blonde hair. I didn’t straighten it today. It’s in a bun at the top of my head. Do I look…scary? I shrug, closing my eyes. I’m letting people get to me. They shouldn’t be able to get to me. I open my eyes again and I see my face staring back at me. But, am I? Three girls walk into the bathroom, giggling and chatting as they enter. Suddenly, their eyes land on me and gasp before there’s dead silence. They start whispering things like isn’t she the girl who hit Peter?  and I heard she killed someone. She looks scary. I snap. “What?!” I yell. I hit the bathroom stall. “Do I make you feel scared? Do I look scary? Why don’t you all get your facts straight before you accuse things instead of spreading around stupid rumors that will get you nowhere?” Their mouths are wide open and they take steps away from me. Great. I just made it worse. I inwardly groan. I walk in front of them. “Move!” They don’t need to be heard a second time because they scatter to the side and I exit the bathroom. Hot tears are in my eyes and I give myself a few seconds to just let it all out before I stop myself. If I don’t give myself a limit, I’ll break down. I hear crying but it’s not my own. I look around in the cold, eerie hallway. Nobody is around. Everyone is in class. Chills run up my spine. It’s almost scary. The cries continue and I notice it’s from a room to my side. The auditorium. Usually, there are people from band and chorus performing in the auditorium but when I walk, there’s no music—only someone crying. It sounds like a girl. Secretly, I wish its Peter because that would be pretty hilarious. But it’s not. It’s Karen. She is sitting at the edge of the stage, both hands covering her teary face. She doesn’t know I’m there. There’s no way Karen could’ve heard me through her sobs. Her knees are up to her chest and her sobs grow louder. I slowly edge closer to her, scared that’s she’ll lash out on me for even being there or for seeing her cry. The auditorium is dark except for a small spotlight that Karen’s sitting next, too. She must’ve gotten access to be in here since she’s in Drama. How ironic is that. There must’ve been some kind of noise I made because Karen suddenly jolts up, her red eyes widening at the sight of me. After she sees who I am, a scowl replaces her teary face, making her look even worse than her already ruined face. “What’re you doing here, Ivory?” she yells—well, tries to—but it comes off as a scratchy voice, her words barely making it out in sequence. I don’t reply. I just sit next to her while she tries to wipe away her tears. It’s kind of hard when there’s mascara basically dripping off her sleeves and now on her sweater. If this isn’t awkward, then I must’ve misunderstood the meaning my entire life. When I try to pat Karen’s shoulder, she swats it away, “Don’t touch me!” Her outburst makes more tears well up in her eyes. “And don’t look at me with pity. I don’t need it!” She wipes her face again. “Stop sitting so close to me!” I slowly slide myself a little farther. It’s going to be hard comforting her, but if I don’t do it, who will? Yeah, she calls her group of rowdy cheerleaders and jocks her friends, but they’re really not. If any of them had to choose between helping Karen or just getting money or whatever they wanted, they’d pick the former. And if they don’t do it, Karen will drown in her tears. As much as I hate her for everything’s she’s ever done to me, she’s still human. And I’m still human. It doesn’t mean I have to go low as her and push her to the side. She’s also my ex-best friend. Someone that close to you can’t be just erased. I suddenly remember I have tissues in my sweatpants. I had put it in my pocket this morning in case my allergies kicked in. It was the middle of winter, but there still was pollen in certain places. I didn’t want to take any risks this morning. Karen won’t accept it if I give it to her. I know that. Nonchalantly, I slide the packet of tissues between the space between her and me.