Chapter 12

The colour drained from the world. Everything became a mingled shade of whitish grey: a black and white painting left in the rain to run.

She tried to lift her leg, and for a moment, was struck by the conclusion her grief had rendered her unable to walk. As her muscles came to life, she remembered all the stretching from the day before and knew it was simply a cramp.

Pausing, slowing her pace and her bodily functions, she wished she could forget how to breathe. In her imagination, she was disappearing, turning to ash and dust and crumbling away in the wind to join the grey landscape.

'Why would he invite me to his house, to hang out with his family and learn to dance, if he still hates me so much?' Darcy thought. It made zero sense. ‘Why would he play that intimate game with me if he didn’t have any sort of feelings for me?’

The only answer she could come up with was intent. Could he be intentionally making her fall for him so he could hurt her?

It was cruel—so cruel it bordered on madness. But why else would he do all of this?

The first half of her design lesson flashed by in a blur. Both Angela and Hannah spoke to her briefly, but she mostly kept to herself, busying herself with her broach. While happening to visit the sink at the same time as Josh, she plucked up the courage to ask him why he was acting so strangely around her.

"If you still hate me so much, why did you invite me to your house?" she wanted to know. “I feel like I’m getting mixed messages.”

He turned to her with a bemused half-smile. "I don't hate you."

"You don't?" Darcy asked.

"No." He shook his head as he rinsed off his tiny paintbrush. "Obviously I wouldn't invite you over if I hated you. That would be weird."

"So why..." Darcy trailed off, wondering what she was trying to ask. She wanted to know why he rejected her attention just now, but how could she ask that without sounding like a pathetic weirdo.

"But don't go mistaking my kindness for forgiveness," he continued. "Especially when you haven't even apologised properly."

"I—I did apologise—"

Josh cut her off with a scornful laugh. "A proper apology isn't one you make in order to get your own way. It’s one you make because you genuinely feel bad for hurting someone."

Her initial reaction was to argue his point, but it took her only milliseconds to realise it was the truth. She'd apologised only so he would rescue her after her sticky situation at the nightclub. She'd apologised again in an attempt to stop him from telling everyone what she was really like.

"I—I'm—" Darcy swallowed, trying desperately to find the words that would make him forgive her. “I’m so—"

"Not here," he said, placing a hand on her shoulder and smiling down at her. The look he gave her was so pitying she felt her cheeks flush. 

'Am I nothing more than a sad charity case to him?' she wondered. Even if she was... it didn't change anything. She wanted his charity. His forgiveness. She wanted it so badly it felt as if her heart might spontaneously combust. The heat sat low in her chest, like an extreme case of acid indigestion. It struck her as odd, how similarly the effects of love and anxiety played havoc with her digestive system. It was as if her body had sided with Josh, turning against her when she needed strength the most.

'I can apologise properly,' she thought. 'I'll tell him how sorry I am, and he'll fall for me.'

It wasn't much of a plan, but it was all she had.

As her eyes searched the room, seeking him out without her permission, she met Chester’s. 

'Crap... I still need to apologise to him as well.'

Deciding there was no time like the present, she ambled over to him and took a seat opposite. 

"About the other night," she started. "I'm really sorry I got distracted. I was being ridiculous, and I was so tired I forgot to reply."

Chester looked up from his work and nodded. "Okay. No worries."

"Please don't be mad at me," she said. "I don't have too many friends right now, so I really can't afford to be pissing off the ones I do have."

"Friends." Chester made a strange face, rolling back his eyes. "Right."

"I'm sorry if I gave you the wrong impression," Darcy went on. "I swear I didn't mean to. Please don't hate me."

He appeared to be thinking about it before smiling and shaking his head. "You didn't. I was just being my usual hopeful self. You did nothing wrong and as usual... I'm the one being a dick. I should be saying sorry."

He looked down with a sad smile and shrugged before saying, "Sorry."

"I don't want you to be sorry. I just want you to be my friend," Darcy told him. 

It struck her how much her life had changed. In high school, everyone had wanted to be her friend. Her inner circle were the precious few, and their acquaintances were grateful to be included. People would walk over hot coals to get invited to her parties. 

Now here she was, begging for friendship from anyone who would have her.

'I'm pathetic.'

Chester stared at her for the longest time—so long it was verging on uncomfortable—before shrugging. "Sure. We're still friends."

"Thank you," she said. 

She returned to her table when he put his music into his ears and began to sing along quietly to himself. It was clearly a hint for her to go away and an indication that their friendship would be strained for some time. 

'I try and try, but nothing ever gets better,' she thought. And she knew why. Josh was right. She'd only said she was sorry to get him to keep her secret. No wonder he looked at her like she was pond scum. 

'Because I haven't changed one bit,' she thought. 'Not really.'

"Well, it's time to start," she muttered under her breath. Glancing up, she saw Josh was now leaning over Chester’s table and the others were hanging about. It didn't seem as if the group were deliberately ganging together to leave her out. She'd done this to people enough times to know what that looked like. 

Standing abruptly, her thighs pushed out the chair. It scraped on the linoleum floor, making the others perk up like a pack of meerkats as she approached. 

She wet her lips before speaking, swallowing away the dryness in her throat.

"When you asked if I was one of those bitches from his high school Josh said no. He was lying—to be kind to me, I guess—but I was pretty much the queen of the bitches." Darcy looked at each of their shocked faces in turn before plucking up the courage to face Josh. "I'm sorry for how I treated you and your friends back then. I know words can't make up for it, but I'd like the chance to make it up to you somehow."

As they all stared at her in shocked silence, Josh included, Darcy found she couldn't stop talking. The flood gates were open, and the truth was determined to spill out.

"I know I spent so much time calling you a loser and trying to make you feel bad about yourself, but I was a fucking idiot. I couldn't see how awesome you were. I'm so incredibly sorry."

She laughed, a startling and pig-like snort that offended her own eyes as well as making the others jump. "And now I find myself apologising because I want your forgiveness... and I swear it isn't just because I want you. I truly am sorry for how I behaved."

"You want me?" Josh asked. His face had remained blank up until she'd spoken those words. Words he'd plucked out with surgical precision. 

"Erm." Darcy felt her lip quiver as she stared into their faces. Both Chester and Ryan looked hurt by her confession, and Zara was seething. Only Angela and Josh remained blank.

Unable to repeat her admission, she turned and fled. She ran, the corridors a blur as she made her way to the exit. Wiping away tears, she held her breath while scanning the surrounding area. The fields, picnic benches and the courtyard were all clear. She could let out her tears without fear of ridicule or awkward questions. 

She sank to the floor, letting everything go. As she cried, she thought about every bad thing that had happened, from her friends dumping her to the night her dad had left. 

She didn't hear the figure approach, and when she spotted a pair of sneakers before her, Darcy's head snapped up. Even though Josh always wore Converse Allstar and the others wore boots, she'd still been terrified in that brief moment that one of them had followed her.

The sneakers belonged to one of those fuckboys Zara and Josh hated so much. His face looked different without its usual self-satisfied sneer. 

"A—are you okay?" he asked, crouching beside her. 

Darcy nodded. "I'm just an idiot."

"Well, that's why we come to college, isn't it?" he asked. "To get smarter."

Darcy laughed despite herself. He was so dense. An exact—albeit older—copy of every boy she'd ever had a crush on or dated in the past. A pretty face without much behind it. 

As he smiled at her, expecting her to fall over herself at his looks and charm, to fawn over him, she wondered what had been wrong with her. Her ex—Ted—was a prime example of this type. He wasn't funny or witty or smart or talented, but he expected the world to fall at his feet and worship him regardless. 

The sound of footsteps approaching from behind made the pair of them turn.

"Josh," Darcy gasped, feeling her cheeks turn red.

"Oh," he said, looking at the guy and back at Darcy with clear disdain. "Never mind. I wanted to check up on you but I see you're fine now."

With that, he turned and walked away.

"No," Darcy tried to cry, but it came out a whisper. 

"No! Josh!" she shouted, but he'd already disappeared. 

$ Chapter