Author's note: So, this idea's been brewing in my mind for ages. I loved the concept of writing about peripheral characters, and I also loved associating it with The Hours. But ultimately, it's not one of my finer efforts. Chalk it up to another valiant � but failed � experiment.
Additional disclaimer: Lots of references to The Hours, obviously. The novel is by Michael Cunningham. The film adaptation directed by Stephen Daldry, screenplay by David Hare, released by Paramount 2003. Both are fantabulous and I highly recommend them. Malcolm on episode banner is Daniel Johns from Silverchair.
Part One
Teaser
The liquid crystal display on the alarm clock read 6:59am, glowing faintly green against the darkness in the curtained room. The digits on the display flickered slightly before they changed, announcing the arrival of 7am with a series of sharp, electronic beeps. With a muffled groan Malcolm Harding rolled over and slammed a hand down on the snooze button.
*Our Lady Peace's 'Superman's Dead' starts*
"Morning," Will Krudski said from his side of the dorm room, already out of bed and trifling through his closet, a shadowy form in the dim light.
"Morning," Malcolm replied, rubbing a hand over his tired eyes. With an effort he willed himself into a sitting position, and pushed his untamed dreadlocks back from his face.
Do you worry that you're not liked
How long till you break?
You're happy cos you smile
But how much can you fake?
An ordinary boy, an ordinary name
But ordinary's just not good enough today
"You look like you could use a cup of coffee," Will smiled at him, changing into a T-shirt emblazoned with the Rawley logo.
"Yeah," Malcolm stifled a yawn. Rising to his feet, he staggered across the floor and pulled back the curtains. The pale light of dawn spilled into the room, making him squint. Looking down at the Rawley grounds, his gaze travelled over the green lawns to the lake shimmering in the distance. "Is it all right if I open a window?" he asked without turning around.
"Sure," his roommate answered cheerfully, gathering textbooks from his desk.
Malcolm unlatched one of the windows and pushed it open, letting a cold breath of air through, tinged with the smell of frost and freshly mown grass. He inhaled deeply, closing his eyes for a moment, letting the watery late-autumn sun caress his face.
No, oh
Alone, alone, alone alone alone alone alone alone
I'm thinking
Why, yeah � superman's dead
Yeah � is it in my head?
Yeah � we'll just laugh instead
Worry about the weather and whether or not you should hate
Lena Fletcher was fully dressed when her roommate's radio alarm clock went off. Glancing at the other girl, who swore sleepily before turning the alarm off, she turned back to her cell phone with a small smile.
"You have no new messages," announced the mechanical voice on her voicemail. Lena ran a hand impatiently through her flame-red hair, sighed and walked over to the window, looking out absently. She could faintly see her own reflection in the glass, the milky skin and straightforward blue gaze that she had grown accustomed to over the years. She placed a hand on the cool pane, shivering a little as coldness coursed through her fingers. Buttoning up her purple cardigan, she checked her voicemail again.
"Did Ryan say he's gonna call this morning?" asked her roommate as she stumbled groggily out of bed, grabbing a toiletry bag from her bedside table.
"Yeah," Lena answered dully, tugging on her hair.
"Don't worry about it," her roommate said, "he must have been caught up."
"Yeah," Lena murmured. But she couldn't stop herself from checking the phone yet again.
Are you worried about your faith?
Kneel down and obey
You're happy, you're in love
You need someone to hate
An ordinary girl, an ordinary waist
But ordinary's just not good enough today
Grace Banks stood in the bedroom she shared with her sister, leaning in close to the mirror and carefully curling her eyelashes.
Bella Banks watched Grace out of the corner of her eye as she pulled on a sweater. "I don't know why you make such a big effort for school," she said.
Grace detected a thinly concealed hint of disdain in her sister's voice, rolled her eyes and said nothing. Sometimes it just wasn't worth it to get into a dispute with Bella in the mornings. Grace suspected that even though Bella wasn't quite aware of it, she liked being the more responsible sister who got to sigh condescendingly at her sibling's less-than-perfect exploits. She put down the eyelash curler and unscrewed a tube of mascara, first wiping the wand with a Kleenex before she began to apply the inky liquid to her lashes. The stained tissue she let flutter carelessly to the floor.
"God," Bella snapped as she whisked the Kleenex off the carpet and into the wastepaper basket, "this isn't a hotel with maid service, Grace."
"You didn't have to pick it up, you know," Grace answered, sensibly � at least she thought it was a sensible enough answer. Bella shot her a dirty look before she stomped out of the room.
"Touchy, touchy," Grace murmured as she turned back to the mirror.
Alone, alone, alone alone alone alone alone alone
I'm thinking
Why, yeah � superman's dead
Yeah � is it in my head?
Yeah � we'll just laugh instead
Worry about the weather and whether or not you should hate
Paige Bennett carefully appraised her reflection in the full-length mirror on the closet door: form-fitting mauve shirt, silky black calf-length skirt, opaque black stockings and her favourite pair of Prada loafers. Dark hair cast about her shoulders in luxuriant waves, her catlike eyes accentuated with just a touch of liquid eyeliner. Looking good, she thought to herself as she dabbed a bit of Chanel's Mademoiselle Coco onto her pulse points, turning around to check the back of her outfit.
"No, your butt doesn't look big in that skirt," Faye Archer, her roommate, said before Paige even opened her mouth. She winked and rubbed a dollop of hair wax through her short blonde crop.
"Good," Paige said, satisfied. If there's one thing she trusted, it was Faye's sometimes brutal tendency of never telling little white lies. "Well, I'm off to class," she grabbed her book bag from the bed, "see you later."
The hallways were abuzz with activity, as were always the case in the weekday mornings. Paige made her way through a crowd of girls running back and forth between the shared bathrooms, and spotted Lena's familiar shock of red hair up ahead. "Lena!" she called, catching up to the other girl. They didn't know each other very well, but they shared the same English literature class taught by Finn over at the Boys' Academy.
"Oh, hey," Lena smiled at the brunette, "how are you?"
"I'm fine," Paige grinned, "you?"
"Good," Lena shrugged as they headed out of the dormitory. "So� you finish reading the book yet?"
"The one for class?" Paige asked. Seeing the other girl nod, she shook her head, "Not yet. I'm having trouble getting through it. Not my thing, I guess."
"Yeah, I know what you mean," Lena agreed, "it's sorta� depressing, isn't it?"
"Yeah�" Paige nodded, her voice fading out of earshot as they walked toward the teaching block on the other side of the lake.
***
Malcolm strode into his senior history class just before the bell rang. He slipped into his usual seat near the back, his gaze inadvertently travelling to the desk on the left and two spaces in front of him. A slight frown creased his forehead as he noted that Josh Sutherland was absent, yet again.
***
Grace smiled flirtatiously at the guy sitting beside her in homeroom. She hadn't seen him before � he must have transferred from somewhere, although why anyone would want to transfer to Edmund High at New Rawley was beyond her. It didn't matter at any rate, there was new blood in the halls. She smiled to herself as she checked the guy out of her peripheral vision.
Suddenly she jolted forward as one of her female classmates walked by and purposefully kicked the leg of her chair. "What the�" Grace exclaimed, narrowing her eyes at the girl. She vaguely remembered the face, even though she didn't exactly pay much attention to the female members of the school. Did she catch me making out with her boyfriend? Most likely she did, considering just how many guys Grace had made out with over the past few years.
"Sorry," the girl replied with a smile that was as sweet and artificial as saccharine. "Sorry," she said again, and then under her breath, "slut."
Grace's gaze snapped up and angry heat flooded her cheeks. But before she could say anything the girl merely smiled once more, her eyes hard as glass, and carried on walking.
Doesn't anybody ever know
Doesn't anybody ever know
Doesn't anybody ever know
That the world's a subway, subway
"A woman's whole life, in a single day," Finn quoted from the screenplay of The Hours, walking around the classroom, "Just one day� and in that day, her whole life."
Pale morning rays gilded the classroom and its occupants, thinly, as though the sun itself were wary of being too generous with its gifts of heat and light. Paige listened to Finn's voice and could already feel her eyes beginning to glaze over. She turned slightly, looking at Scout Calhoun out of the corner of her eye. To her surprise, he seemed uncharacteristically engrossed in Finn's narrative, hunched over his desk and taking note of every word.
"This is the passage that sets up the structure of The Hours," Finn said, pacing through the classroom, "that everything should take place in a single day. It echoes Virgina Woolf's Mrs. Dalloway. But why is it important, that events in the novel take place over just one day?" His roving gaze settled on Will, "Mr. Krudski?"
"Um�" Will looked thoughtful as he tapped his pencil lightly and glanced over his shoulder at the teacher. "It's important because it makes us realise every single day is a� a microcosm of how we live our lives."
"Very good," Finn scratched his chin, "care to elaborate on that?"
"Well," Will said slowly, "through looking at the events that happen over the course of one day, and how characters react to them, we get to understand the characters and, in doing so, understand that their lives are nothing but an extension of this ordinary day. It's your attitude to life that matters, and that can be seen in the smallest things."
"Good," Finn nodded, "and that�"
"Oh," Will interrupted with a smile, "and I think it's also about how we overlook some people in our lives. The ones on the sidelines, who we just take for granted. But the shifts in narrative and details on minor characters makes me think that the author is trying to get us to empathise with a lot of the characters instead of just the central ones. You get to understand that everyone has a heart, that everyone feels a range of emotions and has a whole life behind what you see on the surface."
Doesn't anybody ever know
Doesn't anybody ever know
Paige stifled a yawn, discreetly checked her watch and glanced at Scout again, wistfully.
Doesn't anybody ever know
That the world's a subway, subway
Lena fed a strand of hair between her teeth and stared out of the window, lost in thought.
Doesn't any, any�
Doesn't any, any�
The history teacher had started to talk but Malcolm paid no heed to the words, staring fixedly at the empty seat that Josh should have occupied.
Doesn't any, any�
That the world's a subway, subway
Grace tilted her head down, slightly, so that her auburn hair flopped forward and shielded her face from view. Behind the makeshift curtain she blinked rapidly, biting down on her lower lip, willing the tears away before anyone else could see.
That the world's a subway, subway�
Part Two
*Opening credits and theme song*
Finn's class
Lena leaned her cheek on her palm and idly contemplated the clock on the wall. English class seemed to drag on forever. Normally she didn't mind it, but she simply couldn't get enthusiastic about the topic they were studying. Finn seemed engrossed in The Hours, as did Will and a few others, but that was to be expected; she personally felt it was just a novel-length whinge-fest. She'd thought that maybe she would like the movie, considering it featured one storyline set in the 20s and another set in the 50s, and she was an avid fan of vintage films; but again it failed to hold her attention. She sighed and glanced discreetly around the class.
Ryder Forrest certainly seemed more alert than usual. He leaned back in his chair, fingers interlinked over the desk, and he was listening to Finn's narrative with what seemed like rapt attention. Lena frowned: it wasn't the first day, either, that Ryder had suffered a change in his demeanour. He just looked so focused nowadays, almost as though he was so afraid of his own thoughts that he depended on other people to drown them out.
Her gaze strayed, as it usually did when she was bored, to Jake Pratt and Hamilton Fleming. She'd always considered herself in relation to them as a cupid of sorts, since she firmly believed that it was her advice at Cotillion last year that made them get together in the first place. It was always fun to try and imagine what it'd be like to be in that relationship � the kind that made people believe in the word 'soulmates'.
She let her eyes wander over the couple, Jake's lean frame and Hamilton's lazy eyes, and felt a small pang in her chest. She would have loved to end up with one of them. Hell, she supposed any girl would. They were gorgeous and fun and easy to talk to. Too bad then about the gay thing.
Her eyes narrowed slightly when her musings ceased and she registered the looks on the couple's respective faces. Jake, as usual, seemed slightly apprehensive, as though there was always a disaster on the horizon; Hamilton, on the other hand, looked a trifle annoyed when Jake leaned over to whisper something to him. He nodded perfunctorily, glancing away for a moment. Jake whispered some more. Hamilton sighed and nodded again.
"Mr Pratt," Finn's voice suddenly broke through, "care to join the conversation?"
Lena gave a start, as did Jake and Hamilton. Looking at the teacher's stern expression, Jake smiled apologetically, "Sorry, Finn."
"Good to know," Finn nodded, "but I maintain that I want your opinion. Although I'll save you the embarrassment of obviously not knowing the question by telling you that we're talking about the prevailing themes. What do the three women have in common?"
"Well," Jake looked caught. "They, uh, all seem to have lesbian tendencies."
The class snickered as they turned to look at Jake. Paige managed to catch Scout's eye and he smiled at her � if it could be counted as a smile. More a curl of the lip, really.
"Spoken like a true REACHer," Finn said with a small chuckle. "I'll grant you that, even though I was hoping for something that went a little deeper." He paused for a moment before rolling his eyes good-naturedly at Will, whose hand shot into the air. "Mr Krudski?"
"They're all living for someone else," Will said promptly. "They go through the routines of their lives and they try to act happy for the benefit of other people. People they love."
"Good," Finn nodded, "and does that work?"
Will looked slightly taken aback, which Paige was amused to see. She tried to catch Scout's eye again, but he was engrossed in the conversation and took no notice.
"I guess not," Will said slowly. "Otherwise Virginia would never have committed suicide, and Laura wouldn't have, you know, made her decision by the end of the day. The book is saying that sometimes by loving a person, you're putting them in a sort of prison."
"And do you agree with that?" Finn asked, raising his eyes to scan over the students, "Anyone?"
"I hope not," Will chuckled. The rest of the class laughed, but as Lena grinned along with them, her keen eyes picked out faces in the crowd. Scout was so busy writing notes that he didn't even seem to be listening. Ryder was twirling a pen between his fingers, his gaze cast downward, his expression blank.
But what made her uneasy was the sight of Hamilton, silently watching Jake laugh, his blue eyes clouding over.
***
"Hey," Paige flagged Scout down as the bell rang and they walked out of class, "Scout."
"Hi Paige," he cast her a sideways grin, "what's up?"
She paused before answering, noting how even his smile, these days, seemed to be different than what she was accustomed to. It was � if not downright melancholic, then at least pensive. There seemed to be more weight to his expressions nowadays, as though everything he felt, he felt on a deeper level somehow. She wasn't sure if she liked the change.
"Paige?" he asked inquisitively, shifting the weight of his book bag from one shoulder to the other.
"Sorry," she recovered with a bright smile, "I guess I still haven't woken up from Finn's class. I was so bored."
He shrugged. She stared into his calm blue gaze and felt the rehearsed words evaporate from her mind. "Um," she stammered, "you know, English� it's hard."
"Yeah," he agreed, glancing at his wristwatch, "hey, Paige, I'm really sorry but I've got a class in like, two minutes�"
"Sorry," she said, feeling a warm blush crawling up her cheeks. "I just wanted to see if you wanna study together sometime, you know, for English." As an afterthought she added, "I'm free tonight."
He shrugged again. "Sure, I could use some discussion on the book. You wanna meet in the library? Say, around eight?"
"Yeah, that'd be great," she smiled with sudden relief, "I'll see you then."
He nodded and gave a half-hearted salute before he turned and was lost among the crowd in the hall. Paige remained where she was, clutching her books to her chest, a grin breaking over her face.
***
Edmund High
In the chaos of between-class hordes in the hall, Bella spotted Grace standing by the lockers with a flirtatious smile playing about her lips, chatting to � surprise, surprise � a guy. Bella pushed through the throngs of people and grabbed her sister by the shoulder, interrupting the conversation. "Hey."
"Bella, I'm talking," Grace shot an annoyed glance at her sister.
"So, uh," the guy said, "I've got to get to class anyway, see you later, Grace."
"Bye," the brunette called after him before she turned back to Bella, a scowl on her pretty face, "Great. Now look what you've done. We were talking about Joe's winter party, and I knew he was gonna ask me any second."
"Sorry," Bella said, fighting the urge to roll her eyes. "Grace, it's a month till the winter party, you can corner him some other time."
"Yeah, easy for you to say," Grace grumbled as they worked their way through the halls. "He's new here, okay? If I don't get in there some other girl's gonna snap him up."
"Hasn't stopped you before," Bella muttered under her breath.
"What did you say?" Grace narrowed her eyes at her sister.
"Nothing," Bella said quickly. Grace's penchant for stealing other girls' boyfriends was not a topic she cared to discuss right now. "Look," she said, "can you cover me at the station this afternoon? I've got to help David with the music video."
"Are they still filming?" asked Grace. David Stephenson was a friend of Bella's, and he was in town for a few weeks to shoot a music video project for film school.
"Yeah," Bella nodded. "We're just gonna be out on Main Street, but I won't be able to look after the counter. Please cover for me?"
"All right," Grace agreed reluctantly, "but you owe me one. Hey�" a glint came into her eye, "ask David if I could be, like, an extra or something in the video, okay?"
"Sure, sure," Bella said hurriedly, checking her watch, "I gotta go."
"Remember to ask him," Grace called as her sister ran off down the hall.
***
Rawley Boys' Academy, dorms
The dormitory was silent, seeing that most kids were in their morning classes. Malcolm walked quietly down the hall and paused in front of a door, taking a deep breath.
He had a free period after history class, and he had meant to go back to his own room and catch up on his reading. Instead, his feet somehow seemed to have a mind of their own, carrying him up the stairs and directly to this door. He exhaled and knocked softly. There was no reply. He tried again and waited.
Finally, a voice came from within. "Who is it," it demanded listlessly.
"Josh, it's me," he answered, "Malcolm."
There was a long pause. Then the door opened slowly, and Josh's pale face came into view. "Come in," he said in a hoarse voice, stepping aside to let the other boy pass.
"You weren't in class again," Malcolm said, eyeing Josh's bloodshot eyes and chapped lips. Seeing him in his old pyjamas was a shock � the material hung much too loosely off his gaunt frame, making it clear just how much weight he'd lost in the past few months.
"Yeah," Josh blew his nose on a tissue. "I've been taking time off school. Just can't shake this damn cold."
"Did you get caught out in the rain?" Malcolm sat down gingerly on the edge of Ryder's bed, which was neatly made. A freakishly heavy rainstorm last week had caught a lot of students unawares and the flu had been running rampant through the school.
There was a pause. "Yeah," Josh said quietly as he returned to bed, tucking his legs up underneath him, "something like that."
"Want me to get you some breakfast?" Malcolm asked after a moment's silence.
Josh shook his head. "I'm not hungry," he said in a small voice.
"You're�" Malcolm swallowed, fighting the urge to bite his lip, "you're so thin�"
"I'm not," Josh's voice suddenly took on a steely tone as he looked up, his gaze hardening. "Everyone keeps telling me that but I'm not, okay? I'm not thin. In fact, I feel god-awfully bloated these days, and it's driving me insane when people try to tell me otherwise because I can see it's not true."
Malcolm gazed at him, speechless.
"And stop looking at me," Josh turned away, folding his arms over his chest, "there's nothing to look at."
Malcolm averted his eyes, a frown line emerging between his brows. "Josh�" he said, and faltered.
"I'm kinda tired, actually," Josh said, none too discreetly, blowing his nose again. "So�"
"Right," Malcolm murmured, standing up, "yeah, I should get to class. I just wanted to see how you're doing."
"Thanks for stopping by," Josh said, still not looking at him.
"No problem," Malcolm answered quietly. He paused at the door and glanced over his shoulder, at the tiny, dark-haired boy curled up on a corner of the bed.
He never wanted to see Josh like this, and when they were together, he wasn't like this. He was vivacious and unconventional and charming, like he carried around him a bright halo of life. But all that seemed to have seeped out of him, the golden glow fading away. Malcolm wanted to step forward and place his hands on the other boy's bony shoulders and shake him until his head rolled back and his turquoise eyes lost their glassy, vacant look, but he didn't. He merely stood there, feeling as though his heart was being cut into ribbons.
"Bye," Josh said, his eyes fluttering closed, dark lashes contrasting vividly with his bloodless skin.
Malcolm bit down on his lip and departed without a word.
***
"All right," Mr. Gilbert, the social sciences teacher, clapped his hands together and barked, "group discussion time. Turn to the person sitting next to you and discuss the degree to which polysemic advertising images have permeated popular consciousness. By the end of the ten-minute discussion, I want each couple to have come up with an example, and be able to explain to the rest of the class why it can be considered polysemic."
Lena groaned along with the rest of the class as she turned to face her partner, Jake. "Can you believe him?" she rolled her eyes, indicating Mr. Gilbert. "He's such a psycho. I can't believe he makes sociology hardcore."
Jake merely shrugged.
"Hey, you okay?" Lena asked tentatively, ignoring the chatter around them. "You seem kinda� preoccupied lately."
"You mean you haven't seen him?" Jake squeezed out a peculiar smile.
Lena furrowed her brows, "Who are you talking about?"
"I'll take that as a 'no'," Jake ran a hand through her hair. "Trust me, when you see him, you'll understand."
"Okay�" Lena said slowly, raising an eyebrow. "Jake, cryptic doesn't suit you well."
Jake shrugged and did not elaborate, shadows flitting across her hazel eyes.
Part Three
Rawley Academy, dining hall
Paige picked her way through the buffet lunch, settling on a high protein, low carb chicken stir-fry. She grabbed a bottle of mineral water and looked around the crowded dining hall.
The group of girls she usually ate with were at their regular table, gossiping as usual. Paige was just about to head over when she caught sight of Scout and Faye, sitting apart from the other students and looking as though they were engaged in a serious conversation.
It broke her heart, just a little bit, to see Scout listening so attentively to Faye, the expression on his face one of utmost concentration. Paige couldn't remember a time when he had looked at her in the same way. She set her jaw and headed in their direction.
"It doesn't get easier," Scout said quietly, using his fork to push food around on his plate, "I thought it would, but it doesn't. She's always on the back of my mind."
"I know this doesn't mean much," Faye's expression was grave and sympathetic, "but you've got to give it time. Things like this don't get better overnight�"
"Hey!" Paige interrupted with a bright smile, "you guys mind if I join you?"
The couple looked up quickly, with vague, guilty expressions on their faces. "Hey," they chorused as Paige slipped into the seat next to Scout.
"So�" Paige asked, putting down her tray and looking from one face to the other, "what's up?"
"Nothing," Faye said airily, taking a sip of coffee.
"Uh, you know," Scout suddenly pushed his chair back and stood up, sticking his hands in his pockets, "I'm not really hungry. So I'm just gonna�" he nodded in the direction of the dorms, "head off." A pause, and he looked meaningfully at Faye, "Talk later, okay?"
She nodded.
"And don't forget our study date tonight," Paige said hurriedly, watching with dismay as he smiled curtly and headed out of the dining hall. She turned back to Faye, frowning, "It's me, isn't it? He didn't want to have lunch with me."
Faye's violet eyes were contemplative as she toyed with her coffee cup. "It's not you," she said, "he's just� he's got some issues at the moment."
"What sort of issues?" Paige asked carefully.
Of course she'd seen the signs, the antisocial behaviour, the grave silences; but she attributed that to his parents' divorce. "Is he still upset over his parents breaking up?"
"There's that," Faye waved her hand dismissively, "but�" she glanced at Paige and smiled apologetically, "Look, I'm sorry but I can't really, you know, go into it. I don't think Scout would appreciate that very much. So�"
"That's fine," Paige said stiffly. She took a bite of chicken and turned slightly away from Faye, so the other girl couldn't see her crestfallen expression. So something was wrong, something that wasn't his parents' divorce. And the hurt rose up like pins and needles in her in understanding that Faye knew all about it while she, who loved him just as much as the other girl did, knew nothing.
***
Edmund High
Grace wrinkled her nose in distaste as the lunch lady dumped a spoonful of glop on her tray. After buying a small juice box, she turned around to inspect the cafeteria. The group of girls she hung out with were at their usual table, and she picked her way through the crowd, balancing the tray with one hand. "Hey guys," she said as she approached, before realising that some girl she'd never seen before was now occupying her usual seat. "Uh�"
Rochelle, the leader of the group, flicked her long blonde hair over one shoulder and smiled sweetly. "Grace, this is Tiffany. She just moved here from Carson and I'm showing her around."
"Great," Grace said, still awkwardly holding her tray, "but hey, can you guys squeeze together, or something? There aren't any more seats."
The other girls were silent at the request. Rochelle, on the other hand, smiled again, "Oh, there aren't?" she asked innocently, "well, I'm sorry� maybe there's another table you could sit at."
Grace's expression didn't change, though her eyes darkened. "Oh, I get it," she said coolly, "I'm not welcome around you guys anymore."
"Don't be silly," Rochelle giggled, eyeing the other girls, "we just haven't got room today."
"Right," Grace said. "And what about tomorrow? The next day?"
Tiffany, the new girl, was by now looking distinctly uncomfortable. "Um� it's okay," she said meekly, glancing up at Grace, "it's your seat, I'll go somewhere else�"
"Tiffany," Rochelle interrupted sharply, "sit."
Tiffany sat. Her eyes were wide and uncomprehending as she looked from Grace, to Rochelle, and back to Grace again.
"What's your problem, Rochelle?" demanded Grace, losing her composure. "You're trying to edge me out? Fine. Have some balls and tell it to my face, don't drag the new girl into it."
"It's not me who's trying to get rid of you," Rochelle retorted, pursing her lips, "it's everyone. Okay Grace? It's everyone. We're sick of you flirting with everything that moves, we're sick of you trying to steal our boyfriends all the time, and we're sick of you hitting on the guys you know we like."
"Oh," Grace smirked, her eyes flashing, "I get what this is about. It's about me kissing Luke Whitman the other day at the drive-in�"
"It's not about that," Rochelle interrupted, an angry blush flooding her cheeks.
"Like hell it isn't," Grace snapped. "We all know you've been crushing on him since, like, sixth grade. But guess what, Rochelle? You snooze, you lose. It's not my fault he thinks you're an ugly, self-centred bitch and wouldn't touch you with a ten foot pole."
"Screw you, Grace," Rochelle's face was crimson. Eyes narrowed dangerously, she reminded Grace uncannily of a snake poised to strike, "Screw you. Just leave us alone."
"Fine," spat Grace, briefly contemplating if it was worth the theatrics to slap the other girl. Their little 'disagreement' had certainly drawn the attentions of most tables around them. She stared at Rochelle for a moment and, with a toss of her hair, turned the other way and strode off.
"Gracie Banks has got a pair," leered one of the guys sitting close by.
Grace didn't reply. Instead, she simply flung her carton of juice on his head as she stormed out of the cafeteria.
***
Rawley Academy, Dining Hall
"Hey," Lena said to Hamilton as she set her lunch tray down at his table, "where's Jake?"
"In his room, I guess," he replied, spearing a piece of broccoli with his fork and contemplating it sullenly.
"You guys have a fight?" she asked.
He blinked. "What gives you that idea?"
"Well," she poked at her salad, "I usually need a crowbar to pry you guys apart."
He smiled a little, crookedly. He ate the piece of broccoli. Then he said, "No, we didn't have a fight."
"Why the resentful stares, then?"
He glanced at her, slightly indignant. She gave him a Look and he faltered, shrugging his shoulders. "I dunno."
"I bet you do," she said, chewing on a lettuce leaf thoughtfully. "I talked to him earlier, in class. He said something about 'him'," she made quote marks with her fingers, "and how I'd understand if I see 'him'. Of course I have no idea who this 'him' is, so a fat lot of help Jake was."
"You mean, him?" Hamilton smiled strangely and tilted his head towards a corner of the dining hall.
Lena looked over, scanning the crowds. She was just about to ask him what exactly she was supposed to be looking for when she suddenly saw 'him', sitting with an Asian kid in a corner, dressed in a powder-blue tie-dyed shirt and his nose in a massive book. "Oh, my god," she said, her voice dropping to an awed hush.
"Yeah," Hamilton sounded very tired, "I know."
"What, are they� related?" she asked, still staring google-eyed at the other boy. "Brothers? Cousins? Long-lost twin?"
"Brothers," he confirmed. "Or, to be more precise, half-brothers. Jake's dad�"
"Jake has a dad?" she blurted out before she blushed, "I mean, he's always said he didn't have a dad�"
"I know," he nodded slightly. "Jake rang up his mom and asked about him. And finally Monica spilled and it all fits, somehow. Now Pagan � that's Jake's brother � knows that Jake exists, but he's got his head stuck in a hole and he won't admit they're related. I guess if he did, it would mean his dad cheated on his mom, and�" his eyes darkened for a moment, "and sometimes that's just not a road you wanna go down."
She nodded, and after a moment said, "But you haven't told me why you're upset."
He blinked again, a little surprised.
"You are upset, aren't you?" she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and scrutinised him carefully, her gaze travelling from his pensive stare to the clenched jaw.
"It's just," he sighed, "Jake is so hung up about this whole thing, you know? He's this� this quagmire of nerves. And I haven't been able to talk to him, I mean, properly talk to him in ages."
"You're feeling neglected," she summed up in a nutshell.
"I just feel like I need a break from being the supportive boyfriend," he sighed heavily. "Sometimes I don't think Jake realises how hard it is for me to be understanding and helpful and there all the time without having, you know, a life of my own."
***
Malcolm and Will's room
"Hey!" Malcolm exclaimed in surprise as he opened the door and saw that Will was in their room, watching a DVD on his laptop. "I didn't think you were in."
"Just got this," Will nodded toward the screen, "it's for an assignment in English."
Onscreen, Nicole Kidman, complete with drab outfit and prosthetic nose, was walking into a gushing river. "The Hours," Malcolm recognised with a hint of relish, "great. I love this movie. Can I join you?"
"Sure," Will cleared a spot on his bed and Malcolm sat down, picking up Will's copy of the novel. "I haven't read this," he said, "is it good?"
"Very," affirmed Will, his eyes on the screen. "It's got some amazing writing."
Malcolm thumbed through the book, occasionally glancing up at the film. Misty sunlight floated through the windows, dusting the roommates with a fine glow. It was a nice respite from the busy morning.
"Have you had breakfast?" asked the character of Leonard Woolf onscreen.
"Yes," answered Nicole Kidman-as-Virginia Woolf.
Leonard looked at her. "Liar."
Malcolm was just on the page where that dialogue took place. He flipped forward and kept reading, his gaze skimming over the paragraphs. A line caught his eye.
'She will write for an hour or so, then eat something. Not eating is a vice, a drug of sorts � with her stomach empty she feels quick and clean, clearheaded, ready for a fight.'
He slowly put the book down. "What�" he began to say, before lapsing into silence.
Will glanced at him, "Yeah?"
Malcolm chewed on his lower lip. "What do you know about anorexia?"
"Not much," Will looked surprised. "Affects gymnasts and ballet dancers, I think." He smirked, "Although it wouldn't be too difficult to pick out a few examples from Rawley Girls'. Why?"
"Do you think�" Malcolm didn't meet the other boy's gaze, "Do you think it's possible for guys to, you know, get it?"
"I guess," Will said uncertainly. "Oh, wait. You know what, I heard something about this the other day. Wasn't that guy in that rock band, what was it called? Wasn't he anorexic? You know, the one who did that really angry song Freak?"
"Silverchair?" Malcolm supplied.
"Yeah, that's it," Will nodded vigorously. "Yeah, the singer used to be anorexic, I think. So I guess guys can have it after all."
Malcolm nodded again, looking lost in thought.
***
Dining Hall
"Well, have you tried talking to Jake about it?" Lena asked, pushing the rest of her lunch aside, "Like, actually tried to sit down and talk it over?"
Hamilton looked doubtful. "But� I don't want to do that to him. I can't bail out when he needs me."
"But if you're going to be resentful about it," she said thoughtfully, "if you're just holing this stuff up inside� that can't be good, either."
"Well, what can I say?" he demanded. "Hey Jake? Sorry you have all these problems with your long-lost brother and a dad who just popped out of nowhere, but stop acting miserable around me, okay? I'm getting sick of trying to look after you twenty-four seven because goddammit, I have problems too, but you never listen to me because you're too busy being upset over your own problems?"
"Whoa," Lena said quietly, "Hamilton."
He stopped, and looked a little incredulous at his own outburst. Two spots of bright colour remained in his cheeks, but the blue in his eyes had gone as lank as dishwater. "I just�" he sighed, running a hand through his hair, "I just need some time away from it. I love Jake. You know I do. But I don't know if you can expect anyone to sit around for days and listen to the same problem being analysed over and over again. That's not� that's not how a relationship is supposed to go, right?"
"I wouldn't know," she smiled, with a tinge of bitterness that he was too distracted to see. "I'm just saying you probably want to bring this up with him before you throw a fit again. He's really gonna appreciate that."
"Who's gonna appreciate what?" asked Jake from behind them.
Hamilton and Lena jumped. "Jake!" Hamilton exclaimed, "What are you doing here?"
She shrugged. "Grabbing a bite." She laid a hand on his shoulder, but her gaze travelled to Lena. "Hey�" she said hesitantly, "I'm sorry for butting in, but could I talk to Hamilton for a minute?"
"Sure," Lena said hurriedly, standing up, "I've got to get to class anyway. See ya, Hamilton. Bye Jake."
"Bye," Jake said distractedly before she turned back to Hamilton. Lena walked away, casting a worried look over her shoulder.
Part Four
Rawley Girls' Academy
Paige blocked out the chemistry teacher's droning voice and gazed out the window, her eyes travelling over the shimmering lake. She could just make out the docks in the distance, with a forlorn figure sitting at its edge. She squinted: it looked like Ryder Forrest. Seemed like he was pulling the broody look these days.
Her gaze wavered as she caught sight of somebody else walking along the winding path by the lake, and a familiar pang rose up in her chest as she recognised Scout's chestnut-coloured hair and easy gait.
She didn't tell anybody, because of obvious reasons, but she knew his class timetable by heart. He had last period free today. As she watched his tiny figure make its way towards the Girls' Academy, there was a sudden bitter taste in her mouth when she remembered that Faye, too, did not have any classes for last period.
She bit her lower lip and turned back to The Hours, which she had hidden behind her open chemistry textbook. She didn't like the novel, but she also knew she had to finish it in case Finn pounced on her in class with one of his probing questions. She began to read where she left off, trying not to think about Scout and Faye and the tangled web of friendship between them, the way they acted when they were together, whether as friends or lovers or whatever it was that they were; lowered voices, meaningful glances, a knowing smile or two, as though the rest of the world did not exist.
'Still, there is this sense of missed opportunity. Maybe there is nothing, ever, that can equal the recollection of having been young together. Maybe it's as simple as that. Richard was the person Clarissa loved at her most optimistic moment.'
She turned away from the book, the words resonating in her mind. Maybe there is nothing, ever, that can equal the recollection of being young together.
Faye never grew up with Scout. God, she didn't even come into his life until about this time last year. Has it only been a year? How could he be so sure that this girl was for him when she, Paige Bennett, friend of the family for years, was not? Faye never went hunting for tadpoles with him in that little stream behind their houses when they were young. Faye had never been the flower girl in Paige's sister's wedding, walking with Scout, the ring-bearer, down the petal-strewn aisle and vowing to herself that one day, they'd again walk down that same aisle as man and wife. Faye was bright and mutable and surely she didn't know how it felt to have loved somebody all your life. She wouldn't understand the ache in the pit of Paige's stomach every time she saw him, the way he smiled through confusion or doubt, the way he looked at the people he loved, the blue in his eyes burning into a focus as though no one else mattered in the world. Paige would gladly give up a lot of things if it meant one day he could look at her the same way.
Her mind reeling, she gazed at him as he made his way toward the girls' school, getting close enough for her to make out the expression on his face.
He was smiling, as though in anticipation. Paige watched the smile that she knew so well, the smile she wished were directed at her, and her chest ached with longing.
***
The Gas Station
The film crew had been shooting out on Main Street for the better part of the afternoon. Grace, stuck behind the counter at the gas station, could only gaze enviously out the window. David was behind the camera, and Bella was running back and forth, doing small tasks like fixing makeup and occasionally pitching in with the lighting. A beautiful dark-haired girl � Grace guessed she was part of the film school gang � was the 'star' of the shoot, clad in a flimsy silver dress. When the cameras were rolling, she walked around in bare feet, looking disoriented and lost. Grace wondered how the music video was going to turn out � obviously not one where a lot of synchronised dancing and funky beats were involved.
Still, it was pretty damn exciting to be in the presence of a real music video shoot. She glanced anxiously at Bella and wondered if her sister had asked David about being in the video yet. Grace tossed her shiny brown hair over one shoulder and pouted a little: It was so unfair. Bella got to be in the video just by virtue of being in the band, while she, Grace Banks, the obvious star of the Banks family, had to sit and wait and hope to be an extra. Bella couldn't act, she knew that for a fact. She sighed and examined her nail polish: she had to get out of here, one day� maybe head over to New York and dazzle a bunch of directors and somehow, someday, she'll be a rich and famous actress and no one would ever guess of her roots in humble New Rawley�
"Grace," Charlie Banks walked over, and rolled his eyes good-naturedly when Grace, lost in her glittering daydream, didn't respond. "Grace!"
"Huh?" she glanced up, "Did you say something, dad?"
"Do you want a break?" Charlie asked with a smile, "I'm free now so I can take over the counter, if you want. Go do your homework or something."
"Yeah, sure," Grace grinned as she vacated the counter, sauntering out the door, "homework."
The afternoon sun was weak, and there was a definite chill in the air. The crew was in the middle of shooting another scene and Grace leaned against one of the gas pumps, eyeing the girl in the silver dress, who was slowly and deliberately walking towards the diner.
"Cut!" called David, and he moved out from behind the camera, frowning, "Lydia, conceptually, you're an alien who's lost and confused at all the wasted beauty around her, not some girl wandering around a mall for bargains. Can you at least put some effort into this?"
"Yeah," the girl in the silver dress retorted, "I'd like to see you put effort into this after standing around in the cold for two hours, wearing a dress with no shoes."
The others chuckled, including Bella. "She's got a point, David," she said gently, glancing at the tall boy.
"Okay, okay," David sighed, "Lydia, why don't you take a break�"
"At last," Lydia rolled her eyes, grabbing a coat draped over the director's chair.
David ignored her, "Everyone else, let's go shoot that crowd scene in the diner. James, you organised it with the owner, right?"
"Yeah," one of the other guys readily agreed, "we're all good to go."
"Have we got enough extras?" David glanced around, "Look, James, I think you might have to go sit in the diner. You too, Bella."
Grace perked up at the sound of 'extras'. "Hey," she said hesitantly, "guys�"
Only Bella glanced her way, briefly. "Not now, Grace," she said irritably, "I thought you were looking after the counter."
"Yeah, dad told me�" Grace started to say, but the crew was already moving into the diner, lugging their equipment with them. "Hey," she called again, walking across the street to stand at the door, "You're looking for extras, right?"
David was too busy talking to Bella to notice. Lydia Simons, the girl in silver, had skulked off to one side and was scowling none too pleasantly at David. The other crew members were beginning to set up their equipment among chatter from the diner patrons and wait staff. Grace paused at the doorway, listening to the sound of her own voice falling through the air, unnoticed by all.
Unexpectedly, a stifling feeling rose in her chest as she gazed over all the people, caught up with themselves and each other, none of them noticing her at the door.
"Screw it," she muttered to herself with a defiant pout, turning away. "Didn't wanna be in it anyway."
But the truth was, of course, that she did want to be in it. Quite badly, in fact. She tossed her head and strode briskly down Main Street, blocking the thought from her mind, the image of all those people not hearing � or electing not to hear � her words and requests. It wasn't the first time that this had happened and she knew the ropes too well to let herself sink into thoughts of insignificance. Instead, she checked her jeans pocket and, finding a couple of spare bills, headed towards the newsstand on the corner in search of the latest Cosmo.
Before she turned into the narrower street, however, she heard the unmistakable sound of her own name, and the voice that vocalised it contained more than just a tinge of disdain.
Few people could resist snooping if they heard their name mentioned in passing, and Grace Banks certainly was no exception. Stealthily, she crept closer to the corner of the street, concealing herself behind a shop wall and peeking out just a little to see who was talking.
She could just see two Rawley guys standing around the corner, guffawing and slapping each other on the back. There was somebody else there, too, but she couldn't make the person out unless she exposed more of herself. Quickly, she ducked back behind the safety of her side of the corner, her ears perked up to the conversation.
"Grace, yeah, she's a hot little ho, all right," said one of the Rawley guys, still laughing, "not too bad in the sack."
Grace was so accustomed to that sort of talk she no longer knew whether to be flattered or offended by the remark. She considered it, and shrugged mentally. There were worse insults.
"I've had better," the other Rawley guy said dismissively.
Grace wasn't accustomed to hearing that. A hot flush of indignant vanity surged up in her chest and she narrowed her eyes, peeking out again over the corner.
"Yeah, well," the first guy said, after a pause, "me too."
"She's good for a quick fix though," the second guy acquiesced, and they laughed.
Grace set her jaw and turned to go: there was obviously nothing to hear here. She knew what the Rawley guys thought of her and frankly, she didn't care. She was used to it. She liked having a good time, so shoot her for wanting that. Sure, the talk upset her, but she was tough; she could take it.
However, a third voice chimed in, and this time it was that of a girl's.
"Oh, she'll die when this gets out at school."
Grace swerved around and again, carefully peeked out. The two guys again came into view, and then� she squinted and edged out from behind the corner, just a little bit more. A head of long blonde hair. A tart, syrupy tone. It was Rochelle from Edmund High.
"What," one of the guys lazily drawled, evidently not caring too much about what went on in the hick town's local high school.
"That you guys don't even like her," Rochelle said triumphantly. "I mean, yeah, we all know she's kinda skanky, but the way she went around like she was so special�"
"Don't let her put any ideas in your head," the other guy said, a smirk in his tone, "Gracie Banks is just convenient."
Laughter from Rochelle. "Oh, this is just great�"
Grace couldn't listen any longer. Turning so fast that her short skirt swirled around her thighs in a circle, she fled in the other direction.
She didn't know where she was going. All she knew was that she needed to get out of there before they realised she was there and� what then? Did she really think she was special, going around with the Rawley guys? Did she really think that if she looked hard enough, one of them might end up being the one to take her out of this drudgery, take her out of this stupid hick town and actually take her places? Was that so much to ask? How come it came to Bella that easily? All she had to do was snap her fingers and Rawley guys � both blue blood and blue collar � came swarming. Why didn't Grace get any of that? Why did she have to keep on being the slut of New Rawley, keep up this pretence, to try and find some way out of here? She wasn't special, after all. They all used her � she thought she understood that, but now she realised she didn't, not really. She didn't understand that none of them saw her as a person at all, that even though they obviously liked hanging out with her, they could have made do with any other Townie.
Special. It all came down to being special. And she wasn't, it was that simple. No matter what she did, no matter how much she sparkled among crowds, she still wasn't special in the way that Bella obviously was. Bella was the silver light from a shining star and she� well, she was the faint flickerings of a dying firefly. It simply hurt to hear the guys saying it as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. Even worse was the sound of Rochelle's laughter.
She could feel a sour hotness burning in her stomach, and she didn't know if it was shame or anger or pain. But she couldn't stop to think about it; as soon as she did, to her horror her eyes started to fill with tears. She blinked rapidly � this is stupid, you're crying over nothing, don't let the bastards grind you down�
But she was still tearing up and she was running down Main Street like a madwoman. Without thinking she turned into a dark little store and, looking up briefly through her tear-hazed eyes, saw that it was a second-hand bookshop. She quickly strode to one of the rows at the back, hoping that the salesperson wouldn't come over and try to be friendly.
She turned into the narrow aisle between bookshelves, taking in huge gulps of air to try and calm herself down. It was going to be okay, she didn't hear anything she didn't hear before, it was all going to be fine as soon as she calmed herself down a little, as soon as she tidied herself up�
With a start, she realised someone else was in the aisle. Someone who'd just looked up from a large tome he was scanning through, and now was gazing at her quizzically.
"Great," she rolled her eyes as she recognised him as one of Bella's friends � Jake, was it? � "What are you doing here?"
The guy blinked. "Do I know you?"
She stared back and it took her a few moments, in the dim light of the bookshop, to realise that he wasn't in fact who she thought he was. The similarity was startling, though. "Sorry," she apologised, and couldn't help sniffling a little, "I thought you were someone else."
"Happens all the time," he shrugged, putting the book back onto the shelf. "Hey, um, are you okay?"
She cast him a sideways glance, a little contemptuously, "Do I look okay?"
He smiled apologetically. "I'll just get out of your way."
"No," she said, suddenly contrite, "sorry. I shouldn't have snapped at you. I'm just having a bad day."
He nodded, quickly darting another look at her.
She sniffled again. Her nose was running and she didn't have any tissues. She ducked her head against the guy's curious scrutiny and glanced at him from beneath her lashes, a little embarrassed.
Without a word he withdrew a linen handkerchief from his pocket, and handed it to her with a small, amused smile. She took it gratefully and blew her nose, although she couldn't help blushing.
"So�" he grinned as though to gloss over her discomfort, "you, uh, you're from town."
"Yeah." She smiled, "And you're a Rawley guy."
"It's my first year here," he nodded, glancing down at his worn hiking boots.
She smiled again, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "I'm Grace."
"Oh," he glanced up, looking self-conscious, "um, Pagan."
"So," she asked curiously, "you're related to Jake, uh, Pratt, right? You guys look�"
"No," he said abruptly, an ominous shadow flitting across his expression, "no, we aren't related at all. Just coincidence, I guess."
"Wow," Grace tilted her head, "that's really weird."
"Yeah," he shrugged, "happens."
"Yeah, I guess," she said. "My older sister � we're half-sisters, we have the same mom but not the same dad � she looks nothing like me. It's weird how this genetic stuff happens sometimes."
"Yeah," he nodded, looking distinctly uncomfortable with the topic.
"Hey, um, thanks for the�" she eyed the handkerchief, lying crumpled between her hands. "I'll wash it and�"
He looked a little surprised before his face relaxed into a smile. "Don't worry about it."
"Um, well, I guess it's kinda gross if I give it back to you," she giggled, "how about I treat you to ice cream or something instead? We can call it even after that."
Again, he looked taken aback and she wondered if she'd seemed too forward. Figures. For the first time in her life she was actually extending a genuine invitation as a proper thank you, instead of using it as a means to come on to a guy, and he seemed to be taking it the wrong way. "I didn't mean�" she began to say, but faltered. Was she so much of a slut that shady meanings seeped from every word that she uttered?
His eyes met hers and for a moment she was shocked at how clear and guileless they seemed. Then he smiled.
"I'd love to."
***
Rawley Boys' Academy, classroom
Malcolm leaned back in the chair, stretching his legs out in front of him. He briefly glanced out the window and thought about winter fast approaching, and how dark it had already gotten, though it was only late afternoon.
He turned his attention back to the others, in particular Josh, who was chairing the weekly REACH meeting. "So," Josh said, shuffling through the papers on his desk, "even after splitting the profits three ways with the other two gay and lesbian societies, we ended up making a bundle from the t.A.T.u. concert." He smiled a little as he looked up, "and we also managed to get a portion of the clubs funding from Rawley, so it's all go."
"Great," Jake said, "what are we gonna do with the money?"
Josh shrugged, "Any ideas?"
"Spend it," Hamilton suggested helpfully. Josh shot him a mock exasperated look.
Malcolm didn't contribute to the discussion. Instead, he sneaked peeks at Josh while the others chattered away.
Josh's face was pale but animated, and he smiled often. However, Malcolm brushed past those surface appearances with impatience, and saw that there was a void behind the other boy's blue-green eyes, a place that once shone with charisma and keen intellect but now seemed only deathly tired. On top of that, he was wasting away. There were already dark hollows under his cheekbones where flesh ought to be, and his eyes were heavily shadowed with grey. Malcolm fought back a wince: Josh was still eerily beautiful, but if he kept up whatever he was doing, then soon enough he would look nothing more than a skeleton. He was already bearing the marks.
"Okay," Josh gave up after a couple of minutes of pointless bantering. "Let's just save the money until something worthwhile comes along. I think that's all for today, guys. Thanks for coming. Meeting same time, same place, next week."
Malcolm remained behind as the other REACH members got up and shuffled out of the room. He stood up also, and walked slowly towards Josh. The other boy was busy packing up his papers, his bony white fingers darting nervously across the wooden surface of the desk. Even though he knew Malcolm was standing over him, he did not look up.
"How are you doing?" Malcolm asked, feeling thick and useless with polite small talk.
Josh glanced up with a tiny smile, his eyes catching the wan light outside. "I'm okay." He sniffed, "I wish this goddamn cold would go already, though."
This was an opening that Malcolm had been hoping for. He paused for a moment, gathering his thoughts, before he said, "It's because your immune system's breaking down."
Josh's gaze flickered up with vague surprise. "What?"
"Your body doesn't have enough energy to sustain itself," Malcolm pressed on, his face grave and drawn, "do you understand what I'm saying?"
A hard light sparked in Josh's eyes. "No," he said coldly, standing up, "I don't."
"Then let me tell you," Malcolm looked at him, crossing his arms. "I think you're anorexic. And I don't mean it in a purely descriptive way, either. You're sick, Josh. Really sick."
Josh stared at him for a moment before he laughed, the sound echoing harshly in the empty room. "What on earth are you talking about?"
"I looked it up on the net before I came to the meeting," Malcolm's gaze was unwavering, his eyes as clear as spring water. "You've been showing a lot of the symptoms. On top of that you're so thin�"
"I am NOT thin!" Josh interrupted angrily, his voice shrill.
"Denying that you're thin is one of the major signs," Malcolm continued smoothly, although the pain in his eyes betrayed the calm exterior. "Josh� don't do this�"
"You know what?" Josh glared at him, his face contorted with shadows, "Shut up. Just shut up. I don't appreciate your 'research' and your pretence of caring for me. You have no idea what's going on and I would thank you very much if you didn't stick your nose in my business all the time. We broke up, remember? I don't need to hear this crap, and I especially don't need to hear it from you!"
For a moment Malcolm felt as though the breath was knocked out of him. The Josh who stood in front of him, the skeletal, wrathful creature whose eyes glittered manically in the setting sun, how could he be the same person as the boy Malcolm loved in the summer, with his sparkling gaze and careless laughter? As he watched Josh turn and stride out of the room, he tried to reach out and utter some words so that he may bring the old Josh back, so that he could stop him from departing� but he couldn't do it. Josh's stark words echoed in his mind, blinding him for a moment with pain that flared up as though from nowhere.
The door slammed behind Josh. Malcolm could hear the heavy thud of footsteps running down the hall.
Coldness seeped through him. Turning, he stared blankly out the window at the setting sun, the powder blue sky awash with wisps of apricot-coloured clouds. It was a beautiful scene, but he was unmoved, all this beauty lost in his sad darkness within.
***
Lena's room
The sunset outside was a magnificent one, but Lena was in no mood to enjoy it. She sat glumly on her bed, her cell phone clutched to one ear.
"So, um�" the voice of Ryan Parker, her boyfriend of a year, crackled uncertainly over the phone. He was a student at Rawley until early in the summer, when he had to transfer to a public school on the west coast.
"Ryan," Lena tried to keep her voice calm, "if you've got something to tell me, then just tell me."
There was a moment's silence from his end. "Um," he finally said, "Lena, I� I met someone else."
Even though she'd anticipated it, she nevertheless felt a chill at his words. "You have?" she asked softly, swallowing the lump that had risen in her throat.
"Look, I'm sorry," he said, "I mean it. I wish it could've worked out for us. But Lena�" he paused, "it's just� it was just too much, the long-distance thing. I mean, I tried�"
"It's okay, whatever," she said, trying to keep her voice level, although she could feel her eyes beginning to well up. "Hey," she said, "I've gotta go, okay? I'll talk to you later."
"Lena, don't do this�" his voice was cut off mid-sentence as she hastily clicked off her phone, a silent tear running down her cheek. "Stop it," she reprimanded herself, wiping the tear away angrily, "just stop it."
She wasn't even sure what it was that made her so upset � their relationship had all but ceased to be since he moved away. She knew this was coming, the inevitability of it staring her straight in the face even as she drove him to the airport when he left for California, so why did she still feel this way? Why did it seem like she was being abandoned and left behind? Was she not worth fighting for? Was she not good enough to try and hold on to, despite the miles between them?
The answer seemed obvious.
She stood up abruptly and crossed the floor, grabbing her cardigan from the dresser. It may do her head good to go for a walk. Before she opened the door she checked her reflection in the mirror, carefully wiping any remaining tearstains from her cheeks. "Get it together," she whispered to herself, pulling her hair back into a severe ponytail. Staring resolutely at her own reflection, she nodded and headed out the door.
Part Five
The diner
"So, you've been living here all your life," said Pagan, looking at Grace with interest.
"Yeah," she busied herself with examining the Friendly's menu, which she almost knew off by heart, considering all the time she'd spent in this place since she was a kid.
The film crew was just wrapping up for the day when she and Pagan arrived at the diner. Grace saw Bella and David having a conversation out by the gas station and smirked � the platonic act was fooling no one.
"What's it like," Pagan asked inquisitively, "living beside Rawley?"
Grace turned her attention away from the couple by the gas pumps. "It's a bitch," she replied truthfully, smiling a little, "like you had to ask."
He laughed as the waitress, Maria Ishizuka, approached with pen and pad in hand. "Orders, guys?" she asked languidly, tossing a smile at Grace, who she recognised as one of the diner's regular patrons.
"What's good around here?" Pagan raised an eyebrow at Grace.
"I wouldn't call it a house special or anything," Maria grinned, "but I can tell you what she's gonna have." She turned to Grace with a small wink, "Fries with butterscotch sauce on the side, as usual?"
"You know you've been coming here too much," laughed Grace, "when the waitresses start telling you what you're gonna order."
Pagan grinned, "Fries with butterscotch sauce?"
"My friends all think I'm a complete weirdo when I order that," Grace shrugged, "but hey, it tastes good, so lay off the teasing."
"Wasn't going to," he said, a twinkle in his eye as he turned to Maria, "I'll have the same, thanks."
Grace's jaw dropped, "You can't be serious. Are you making fun of me?"
"What? Only you're allowed to have weird taste?" he asked back, a smile in his blue eyes, "It sounded good."
"Sounds like you found a kindred spirit," Maria commented airily before she headed toward the kitchen. "Hold on to this one, Grace."
Grace laughed and turned back to Pagan. To her surprise and endearment, she found him blushing. "Hey," she giggled, "don't listen to Maria. She'll say whatever's in her head."
"I can see that," he chuckled. "She reminds me of my roommate. He'll shoot his mouth off at anything."
"Is it annoying?" she asked sympathetically.
"Sometimes," he admitted. "But he's a really cool guy. I've been home-schooled all my life so�" He shrugged, self-conscious, "It's hard for me to make friends."
Without really noticing what she was doing, Grace's gaze drifted to the gas station again. Bella and David were still engaged in animated discussion, her hand resting lightly on his arm as she talked, a smile on her face and a sparkle in her eye.
"Yeah," she turned back to Pagan, her gaze soft. "I know what you mean."
***
Rawley Academy
As Lena walked briskly past the grove of trees by the lake, she was wishing she had worn something warmer. The chilly late-autumn breeze shot through the porous fabric of her cardigan, raising goosebumps along her skin. She shivered and hugged the woolly garment closer to her body. The sun had nearly sunk beneath the horizon, leaving only a smidge of burnished gold on the far side of the lake. Her eyes were tearing up as she kept walking along the winding path, and she wasn't sure whether it was from the stinging wind in her face, or from the equally stinging disappointment within.
Brusquely, she brushed a loose strand of hair out of her face. Ryan had loved her hair, back when he was still at Rawley and was physically proximate enough to run his fingers through the scarlet tresses. They'd be hanging out, reading, or watching TV together, and he'd languidly play with her hair, making her feel like a complacent cat being stroked by its owner. That was perhaps one of the things she had missed the most when he moved away.
She wanted to stop thinking about him but found that she couldn't, not even when she had escaped the nostalgic confines of her room and into the biting cold. It wasn't so much the notion of Ryan that had her stomach churning but, rather, it was the concept of herself. The knowledge that she had been dropped for someone closer and maybe better. She had always despised the girls who relied on their boyfriends for an identity of their own, yet when it really came down to it, she still couldn't shake the feeling that, if she had paid some more attention to their ailing relationship, if she took more pains with how she dressed and how she looked, maybe he wouldn't have been prompted to look elsewhere�
At the same time she pondered over those thoughts she was ashamed of thinking them. A rush of hot tears blinded her vision, making her stumble a little as she hurried on, no longer caring where she was headed. The sun had set completely now, and the lake was a swelling dark mass beside her. She was hurrying past the large tree by the boatshed, wiping away another tear, when she tripped over something and fell with a gasp.
"Ow!" A male voice exclaimed as she fell, grabbing wildly at nothing, straight into someone's lap. "What the�"
"Sorry, sorry," she muttered as she struggled to sit up, and then, "Hamilton?"
"Lena?" his voice was incredulous in the dark, "What are you doing here?"
"What are you doing here?" she retorted, "Trying to break people's necks by tripping them up?"
"Not if they keep to the footpath," he said sulkily. "Weren't you watching where you're going? The path takes a turn over there. I know it's dark, Lena, but geez."
"Oh." She could feel herself blushing. With a start she realised she was still sitting in his lap and with another embarrassed 'oh' tried to jump up, which only resulted in her tripping over and falling straight into his lap again, twisting her ankle in the process.
"Ow," he said again, resignedly, "what are you doing?"
She shifted off his lap and onto the hard ground next to him, rubbing her ankle with a grimace, "I think I twisted my ankle."
"Are you all right?" he demanded, "let me see."
"It's not that bad," she said, shifting her leg gingerly.
He leaned in close to examine her ankle, but could see hardly anything in the darkness. "It doesn't seem to be broken or anything," he said, cautiously pressing on the bone.
"Ow!" she exclaimed, "don't touch it there, it hurts."
"Sorry," he said contritely, "want me to go and get the nurse?"
"No," she said, "I don't think it's badly twisted, I just need to rest here for a while."
"Yeah, sure," he agreed, and in the dim light she could vaguely make out the outline of his face, peering at her anxiously, "you sure you'll be okay?"
"I'll be fine," she said, biting her lip as her ankle throbbed in protest. The cold wind whistled desolately through the tree over their heads and she hugged herself, trembling and miserable. A little sob rose in her throat and she swallowed it.
"Hey," he exclaimed, "are you crying? I better get the nurse�"
"No," she said quickly as he got to his feet, "it's not my ankle. I'm just upset."
He sat back down with a quizzical expression, "What's wrong?"
The misery welled up inside of her as she listened to his gentle voice, and her eyes started filling with tears. "Ryan broke up with me," she said, her voice strangely whiny even to her own ears.
"I'm sorry," he said sympathetically.
"He dumped me for some other girl," she said, a little angrily, dabbing at her eyes. "I don't even know why I'm upset. We haven't been the same ever since he moved away."
He didn't say anything, but nodded with understanding and in the darkness she could see his profile, backlit a little by starlight, a gentle sweep of lashes casting downward.
"It's just�" she sniffed, dragging the back of her hand across her tearstained cheek, "I feel so stupid about this, you know? I'm upset over getting upset. How dumb is that?"
"It's not dumb," he said, patting her consolingly on the shoulder. "You shouldn't think like that."
"Yeah?" she tried to laugh and the sound came out strangled. "Well, I do. I'm pissed off because I'm acting exactly like any other girl who's gotten dumped and I hate that. Everyone says I'm so individual and strong and you know, I believed it. I thought I was better than those girls who'd cry and get miserable, but I'm not. It hurts that he chose someone else over me. Was it me? Was I not good enough?"
"Shh," he whispered, his eyes wide and earnest, "Lena, it's okay. It wasn't you, you know it. You're wonderful and any guy would kill to have you as a girlfriend�"
"Yeah, whatever," she sniffled and tried to laugh again, "look how well it worked out with Jake� and you."
He had to smile. "That was different."
"Yeah, I'm so forward I scared two guys into being gay," she giggled despite herself.
He grinned. "Maybe."
She smiled and looked down, tugging on her sleeve. "Thanks," she said finally, "thanks for being there for me. I appreciate it."
"Hey," he shrugged, "no problem. I've had a lot of practice lately."
"Oh, yeah." Now that her misery had eased a little, Lena remembered that Hamilton himself wasn't in too savoury a predicament. She tucked back her hair and looked at him inquisitively, "How is Jake?"
"Same as always," he said heavily, tracing patterns on the ground. "That's why I came out here. I had to get some time to myself."
"Did he�" she paused, "did he overhear what we said at lunch?"
"I don't think so." He said glumly. "I almost wish he did, though. He's been in a bad mood all week and I feel like I'm walking on landmines when I'm around him."
"So why don't you just tell him how you feel?" she demanded, "trust me, it will make things easier in the long run."
He glanced up at her. "I can't. I just can't do it. Jake'll get upset, I know he will."
"But if he doesn't even know you're unhappy�" she trailed off, rubbing her sore ankle thoughtfully.
"He has too much to deal with," Hamilton said quietly, "I can't tell him to stop confiding in me. I'm the only one he can really talk to and�" he sighed heavily, "it just seems so dumb of me to be tired of it. I don't think it should happen when you love someone."
"It's a Hollywood myth," she said dismissively. "Hamilton, you're entitled to feeling whatever you feel. You can be madly in love with Jake and be sick of him dumping all his problems on you at the same time, it doesn't make you love him any less and it certainly doesn't make you a bad person."
"It�" he sounded like a timid child, "it doesn't?"
"Hamilton," she murmured, "have you seen Gone with the Wind? Rhett loved Scarlett. He loved her so much he did all those incredible, helpful things for her over the years, even though he knew she loved someone else. But you remember what happened in the end?"
"'Frankly my dear,'" he quoted with a little chuckle, "'I don't give a damn.'"
"Exactly." She nodded, "She took his love for granted all those years and eventually he got sick of it. But it didn't have to end like that. They let go of all the opportunities they had to honestly talk to each other and let the other person know their love. It's the same with you and Jake. It's better to tell him now than to suffer in silence and risk having all this get out of control. Don't beat yourself up because you're not the perfect boyfriend that everyone seems to expect you to be. Just be the best you can to Jake, and no one should be able to tell you that's not good enough. If you need him to pay more attention to you, if you think you're becoming an agony aunt and nothing else� then tell him."
He thought for a while, and nodded slowly. "I guess you're right. But�"
"But you still don't want to be the one to tell him," she said knowingly, a small smile surfacing to her lips, her own troubles forgotten. "You know what? How about I go talk to him? Drop a couple of hints."
He screwed up his forehead and gazed at her thoughtfully. "What will you say?"
"Don't worry," she laughed, "I'm just gonna say maybe he should be paying more attention to you. And I won't mention our little talk, either."
"Thanks, Lena," he sounded relieved. "Why are you so good to Jake and me?"
She paused, chewing on her lower lip. Finally she glanced up at him, her eyes shining in the dark.
"Because somebody has to keep the dream alive, right?"
***
Rawley Academy, library
"All right," Scout leaned back in his chair. "What do we have here?"
The library was near empty, and he and Paige had seated themselves in an isolated corner, away from the librarian's prying eyes and disapproving gaze.
"Um�" Paige leafed through The Hours, but her eyes were not on the pages. Instead, she glanced sideways at Scout, "Where do you want to start?"
He flicked through the bunch of handouts they received in class, and shrugged, "Themes from the book?"
"Sounds good," she readily agreed.
"So, uh," he murmured as he shuffled his notes, "what do you think about the main one that Finn talked about today? The one about how, when you love someone, you have to pretend to be happy for their sake?"
"I dunno," she said carefully, gauging his reaction, "I guess it's kinda true� for some people."
He glanced at her with a smile, "But not for you?"
"Maybe," she shrugged with a grin, "maybe not."
"Right," he said, looking down at his notes again.
She gazed at him and fought the urge to sigh. What happened to him lately? She couldn't remember the last time he'd smiled � smiled genuinely, the brilliant, wide, gorgeous smile that was his trademark in earlier years. He was so preoccupied and so serious these days, and her mind briefly flitted back to the conversation with Faye at lunch, wondering if the two were connected somehow. "So," she said casually, "how are things with Faye?"
He glanced up, a spark of interest in his eyes, "why, did she say something about me?"
"Um, no," she was a little taken aback by his reaction, "I was just wondering."
"Oh." There was a definite note of disappointment in his voice. Looking down again, he leaned over his book and, in doing so, something fell out of his shirt collar, catching the light.
"What is this�" she reached over and caught the object before he could tuck it back in, and her eyes widened when she realised that it was the ring Cynthia Calhoun had always worn. "Scout� is this your mom's ring?"
"Yeah, sort of," he undid the chain around his neck and handed the ring to her for a closer look. "It's mine now."
She examined the familiar Calhoun family crest stamped into the white gold, savouring the feel of the smooth metal beneath her fingertips. "Family heirloom?"
"Yeah," he nodded, "it's the counterpart to my dad's family ring."
"So�" she glanced at him suggestively, "so it gets given to the wives of the Calhouns?"
"Close," he smiled and held out his hand for the ring back, "we're supposed to give it to the woman we love."
She stared at him, and for a moment her clutch on the ring tightened, a subconscious gesture made urgent by the tumult that had just risen in her mind, a haze of static.
"Uh," he said tentatively, his hand still outstretched, palm up, "Paige�"
She gazed at him for a moment longer, uncomprehending, before she suddenly snapped to attention. "Sorry," she smiled tightly, dropping the ring into his hand. Wistfully, she watched him fasten the chain around his neck and slip the ring under his shirt once more. "So�" she began, her throat dry. She licked her lips and tried again, trying to pass her voice off as light although she knew it would not come out that way. "Who's the ring gonna be for?"
He glanced at her, sharply. She shrank back a little at the piercing inquisition in his gaze, but her eyes burned into his, a sort of desperation in them, like dark fire. For a moment he was lost in those eyes, entangled by the undertow of emotions he discerned but could not quite understand, before he looked away, his brows furrowing slightly.
"So what do you think about this theme?" he asked softly, and she couldn't help but notice that he did not answer her question.
***
Malcolm and Will's room
*Depeche Mode's 'Freelove' plays in the background*
Malcolm sat on the windowsill, looking out at the night. He couldn't really make out much beyond his own reflection on the glass pane, but that was irrelevant. He sat there, his legs dangling down to the floor, his eyes trained on the unseen distance, and only a slight furrow of the brow gave away that he wasn't as content as he appeared to be.
Someone knocked on the door, suddenly and quickly, jolting him out of his reverie. "Who is it?" he called, getting up and striding across the room.
"It's me."
At the sound of the familiar voice Malcolm halted, one hand on the door handle. Wearily, he exhaled, opening the door to reveal Josh standing in the hallway.
Josh looked up at him, eyes masked with false calm. "Can I come in?"
Malcolm had half a mind to say icily, 'that depends' and really give to Josh what he deserved, but the thought had no more sparked in his mind than he found himself already opening the door wider and letting the other boy in. He sighed inwardly: was this always going to be how it was? He could no more deny Josh's requests than he could deny being gay or being alive.
Josh walked into the room, treading so lightly he made no sound on the carpeted floor. "Where's Will?"
"He said he was going to the boathouse to make out with some girl," Malcolm said in bemusement, "I'm not sure whether he was joking or not. At any rate, he seemed like he'd be a while."
"Good," Josh said. "Close the door."
Malcolm obliged, peering curiously at the other boy, who stood in the middle of the room, his eyes trained fixedly on the ground.
"Look," Josh finally spoke, glancing up quickly before looking down again, the blue-green of his eyes a flash of colour in his otherwise ashen face. "I'm sorry about what I said earlier. I'm sorry I said those horrible things. You didn't deserve them."
Malcolm didn't reply, leaning back against the door and gazing at the other boy thoughtfully.
"I just�" Josh shook his head, his voice breaking a little, "I mean, I don't�"
Malcolm watched him expressionlessly, but the look in his eyes was alert and melancholic.
I've been running like you
I've been running like you
Now you understand why I'm running scared
Now you understand why I'm running scared
Josh took a deep breath and looked up, stepping closer to the other boy. "I don't know how I could have said what I said. I'm just so confused lately."
Malcolm simply watched him. Josh squirmed under the steady scrutiny, looking down again.
"You know what I said was right," Malcolm finally said, crossing his arms across his chest. "You've got to do something. Josh� you're killing yourself like this."
I've been searching for truth
I've been searching for truth
And I haven't been getting anywhere
No I haven't been getting anywhere
The muscles in Josh's jaw tensed. "Please," he said softly, looking up again to gaze into Malcolm's eyes, taking another step toward him, "please just let me handle this. I�"
"But you can't handle it," Malcolm said, exasperated.
"Trust me," Josh whispered, closing the distance between them until they were only inches apart, almost touching but not quite. "Please trust me."
Malcolm exhaled shakily, thrown by the physical contact that they had not shared since the summer. He still recalled those sunny days with a sharp ache in his chest, for those were the days when he had known real happiness, those days shaded with what he thought was reciprocated love. Josh standing so close only reminded him powerfully of the fact, and he couldn't bear to remember more.
"Josh, I�"
But Josh didn't let him finish, Taking another step forward, he pushed Malcolm roughly up against the door and kissed him, his shaking cold hands grasping the blond boy's shoulders so hard that he was sure it would leave bruises.
"Wait," Malcolm pushed him back with a small gasp. He stared into Josh's beautiful blank eyes and words quivered on his tongue, but he didn't know where to start or how to say what he wanted to say. There was a tense heaviness and sweet bitterness in the air, in knowing that this was what Josh needed but not necessarily what he wanted. "What are you doing?" he murmured, not even expecting a reply.
"Don't say anything," Josh whispered, leaning in again so that his lips trembled against the other boy's, "Just� just kiss me."
And I'm only here, to bring you free love
Let's make it clear, that this is free love
No hidden catch, no strings attached
Just free love
No hidden catch, no strings attached
Just free love
Malcolm waited for a moment longer, his mind conflicting with the injured love he had kept to himself for too long. He knew what Josh really wanted, after watching from the sidelines for the past five months, always waiting in the wings, watching silently as the scene in front of him unfolded with a sense of inevitability. He knew about the blond British boy with that suede coat and cigarette perpetually dangling from his lips, he understood the way that Josh looked at him, his turquoise eyes raw with pained desire. And as he leaned back and let Josh's mouth close over his he wasn't sure what he thought, or should have thought. As Josh's cold hands eased under his shirt and over his chest he could only know that moment as it was, desperate kisses, hands fumbling to lock the door behind him, a shirt tossed onto the floor, a belt unbuckled; because he knew that this, these meaningless, hollow acts, would be the only thing he could ever have from the boy he loved.
We're only here, sharing our free love
Let's make it clear, that this is free love
No hidden catch, no strings attached
Just free love
No hidden catch, no strings attached
Just free love
***
New Rawley
"Hey guys," Grace called cheerfully as she breezed into Joe Paterson's basement that doubled as an underground casino.
"Gracie," drawled Joe from the card table, "thought you deserted us."
"And then who'd keep all of you in line?" she retorted mischievously. The basement was packed tonight, and there was a ring of people standing around the card table, behind the seated players. She sidled past the crowd and headed toward the old couch in the corner, grabbing a beer from the mini-fridge.
Ryder was sprawled on the couch, half-heartedly flicking through a book. Normally Grace would have shot him a dirty look and headed elsewhere to sit, but her sudden good mood was so pervasive that not even Ryder could ruin it. "Shove over," she merely said with a contemptuous smile, plopping down at the other end of the couch.
To her surprise, he glanced over the book at her and obliged without a word, taking his feet off the worn cushions. She stared at him for a moment, her mouth slightly open, fully convinced that it was the first time ever she'd seen him do something just because somebody told him to.
"Grace," he said irritably, "either tell me there's something on my face or stop staring at me."
"Yeah," she retorted with a roll of the eyes, "I think your mole is mutating. Better get it checked out."
"Ha, ha," he said dryly, "you're a regular ray of sunshine, you know that?"
"Takes one to know one," she opened her can of beer with a loud hiss and took a swig from it. Eyeing him, she added, "You know, I haven't seen you on the tables for a while."
"I quit," he said unceremoniously, casting a black glance at Joe's direction.
"So what are you still doing here?" she took another swig.
"For your lovely company of course, precious," he smirked.
She just looked at him. He grinned and shrugged his shoulders, putting the book down. "I'm staying here for a while."
"Staying," she repeated, "as in 'living here'?"
He nodded almost imperceptibly.
She raised her eyebrows. "What's wrong with Rawley? Are you slumming it with the townies now?"
"Yeah, exactly right," he shot her a sarcastic look. She waited, but he lit up a cigarette and said nothing more. They fell into an uneasy silence.
Part Six
Joe's House
The stakes were high at Joe's table and moods were tense as the poker players tried to out-bluff each other. Ryder eyed them disinterestedly, a little sneer playing about his lips.
Grace glanced over, trying to work out what was different about him. His demeanour was as acid as always, but there seemed to be something missing from his eyes, like the edge of a razorblade that had gone dull with overuse. She had no idea why he had taken to sleeping here � she had been in the Rawley Boys' dorms plenty of times, and she knew that given a choice, she certainly wouldn't have chosen Joe's stale-aired, lightless basement over the spacious, comfortable dormitory that cost an arm and a leg to have in the first place. "Had a fight with your roommate?" she speculated.
His head swivelled so fast in her direction that for a moment she thought his neck was going to snap. "What?" he demanded, his gaze as sharp as needles.
"Nothing," she said, confused. "I was just wondering if you're sleeping here cos you and your roommate are fighting."
The guarded look in his eyes softened, although he still stared at her suspiciously for a moment or two before he dropped his gaze, reassuming his complacent demeanour. "Something like that, maybe," he said noncommittally, taking a drag on his cigarette.
Her eyes fell on the book he had set down between them and she picked it up, leafing through it. "What's this?"
"Some stupid thing we have to read for English," he waved a hand dismissively. "Utter bollocks, all of it. But I've been hanging around this dump for too long. I've gotta graduate sometime and I can't, unless I pass the stupid English course."
"'Here' as in New Rawley?" she barely glanced at him as she flipped through the book.
"'Here' as in the lovely United States of America," he chuckled, taking a drag on his cigarette, "there's an office in my father's company with my name on the door. All I've got to do is graduate."
"Living off daddy and mummy," she mimicked his English accent, rolling her eyes, "do you know how pathetic that is?"
"And we all know you'd love it if you had the chance," he retorted, but he was smiling. Banter always loosened him up, and it certainly eased the animosity that existed between them ever since spring. He glanced at her, nodding at the book, "Interesting?"
"Looks depressing." She was only catching snippets as she flicked through the pages, but they weren't holding her attention. She glanced at Ryder with a smile, "Hey, Will's in your class, right?"
"Yeah, so?" he glanced at her wearily.
"He must love this book," she giggled.
He broke into a small smile, "That he does."
She put the book down and stared into space thoughtfully for a few moments before turning back to Ryder, "Hey�"
He tapped his cigarette on the edge of an ashtray, "Yeah?"
"Why didn't we do this sooner?" she asked, "Just talking. You're a pretty decent guy if you don't try to jump every girl you see."
He chuckled, and she could make out a tinge of mockery in his tone, as though he found the comment funnier than it really should have been. "What do you know," he said dismissively, taking another drag.
"Yeah," she shrugged, a little pensive. There was a moment of silence before she sighed shortly and asked, "Do you think a person can change, Ryder?"
"What do you mean, change?"
"Like," she shrugged again, "change the way they do things. Change their reputation. Just� not be the same person they were."
"I suppose," he said dubiously, and with a little smirk added, "Why? Don't tell me you're gonna go down the Good Girl track now. A bit too late for that, don't you think, love?"
She ignored the barbed comment, although it stung more than she liked to admit. "I was more thinking about you," she lied, taking a sip of her beer, "I think you could be a good guy if you tried."
"Yeah, whatever," he smirked. But he grinned as he reached over and took the can of beer from her hand, taking a couple of swigs before he handed it back.
"You're getting that look in your eye," she took another sip and shook her head at him.
"What look?" he asked innocently.
"You know what look," she chuckled, "and let me tell you, Ryder, you've had your chance. There's no way I'm gonna head down that road with you again."
"How your words sting, Miss Banks." He laughed, "Quit flattering yourself."
"You know, if you stopped playing around with half the girls in this town," she said thoughtfully, slowly twirling the can of beer between her hands. "I mean, if you actually settled down with someone and tried to do something with your life� I could see it."
"Applying for the School Counsellor position now?" he eyed her with amusement, "When did you become a model citizen?"
"I dunno," she shrugged, thinking back on the day she had. "I know, it feels totally weird to be saying this. But I'm getting tired of all the games, Ryder. I'm getting sick of playing around, aren't you? Sometimes I just wish I could�" she shrugged, leaving the rest of her words unsaid and she glanced at him, waiting for the inevitable merciless mocking.
To her surprise, he merely gazed at the glowing red end of his cigarette, watching tendrils of smoke curl up from his fingertips, his expression unreadable.
***
Rawley Academy, library
Paige stifled a yawn as she glanced at Scout, who was studiously noting down excerpts from the book. They'd been studying for over an hour, and she didn't think she took in one single new fact. While Scout took copious amounts of notes and tried to discuss his ideas about the novel, she was alternately looking dreamily into his blue eyes or fretting about that ring he wore around his neck. She flicked through the book, aimlessly, trying to look as though she was doing something at least remotely useful.
'She could decide to die. It is an abstract, shimmering notion, not particularly morbid.'
Paige chewed on her lower lip as she reread that sentence, furrowing her brows.
'It could, she thinks, be deeply comforting; it might feel so free: to simply go away. To say to them all, I couldn't manage, you had no idea; I didn't want to try anymore.'
"What are you reading?" Scout asked, leaning over.
She turned the page and started to read aloud, running her finger down the lines, keeping her voice low so that the librarian wouldn't jump down their backs for talking.
"� She could leave them all behind � her child, her husband and Kitty, her parents, everybody � in this battered world (it will never be whole again, it will never be quite clean), saying to one another and to anyone who asks, We thought she was all right, we thought her sorrows were ordinary ones. We had no idea."
She paused there, and glanced at Scout. A pondering glaze had come over his expression; he was looking straight at her but he wasn't seeing her; instead, his sad, wide eyes were looking past her and into the distance, into something invisible that she could not discern. "Scout," she said, then again, louder. "Scout."
He blinked and refocused, "Sorry."
"It's kinda dumb, isn't it?" she said with a little smile, "Trying to make suicide sound like something good? Something noble?"
He didn't reply, but only looked at her with that unfathomable blue gaze.
"I mean," she shrugged, "when it comes down to it, deciding to kill yourself is just plain selfish. The book tries to make it sound as though you haven't got a choice, but you do. It's like being a teenager and moaning about all your problems, and it's so stupid. We've all got problems, but this book tries so hard to make it sound like one big drama and what? Are we supposed to feel sorry for the characters? They do nothing but moan about their lives. Are they starving? Are they homeless? I don't know what their problem is, and killing yourself just like that� how stupid can you get? It's just random, and�"
She stopped abruptly when he stood up with such force that he almost knocked his chair over. "You don't know anything," he said through clenched teeth, his eyes suddenly blazing with fury. "Paige, I� I can't believe you!"
"What?" she demanded, "What did I say?"
"What didn't you say?" he exclaimed, and to her alarm she saw that his hands were clutching the edge of the desk so tightly the knuckles were completely white. "They're not selfish, and they don't moan, they suffer through their silences and their love, and for you to even think that they're making a big deal out of nothing� to not be able to see what these women are going through� god, Paige, I never thought you could be this blind."
"But," she shrank back from him, her eyes filling with tears. "I don't understand�"
"That's right," he stared at her, the expression on his face a mixture of anger and pity, "you don't understand."
"Scout," she pleaded, reaching out and grasping his hand, "what's wrong? Just tell me what I said wrong? I don't�"
He shook his head and wrenched his hand back, hastily gathering up his books and notes. "Look, if you still don't know what you did wrong, I'm not sure if I can help you."
"God, what is happening to us?" she cried, leaping to her feet and looking at him through a haze of tears, "I want us to be like how we were, when we were kids, is that so hard? Why are you shutting me out?"
For a moment his expression softened and he sighed heavily. "Look, Paige, I just think�" he shrugged, "I just think we've drifted apart, you know? Maybe we don't see eye to eye anymore."
"Don't say that!" she exclaimed vehemently, horrified, "That's not true!"
"What's going on here, children?" barked the grey-haired librarian, who seemed to have materialised out of thin air. She strode up to the desk and surveyed the scene before her, Scout looking pale and tense, Paige in tears; and she shook her head disapprovingly, "behave yourselves or I'll have to turn you out, understand?"
"Don't worry," Scout said in a low voice, pushing his chair back, "I'm out of here."
"Scout!" Paige cried, but he only cast an impassive glance at her over his shoulder before he walked out of the library, leaving behind him the heavy door swinging back and forth.
***
Jake's room
Lena knocked softly on Jake's door. "Hey, it's Lena, let me in."
"Just a sec." The door opened and Jake poked her head out, "Hey, what are you doing?"
"Let me in first," Lena ducked under Jake's arm, "don't let Finn see me here. Girls in the dorms after hours is one of his pet hates."
"I take that you speak from experience," laughed Jake, pulling out her computer chair for the other girl. "What brings you here?"
"Hamilton." Lena got straight to the point.
Jake raised an eyebrow. "What about him?"
"Look, Jake," Lena rubbed her hands together, "here's the deal. I know you've been hitting a rough patch lately. And I'm sorry about that, I hope things work out for you."
"Did Hamilton tell you about�?" Jake asked, trailing off.
"Some parts," Lena admitted, "but I was picking up vibes from you long before we started talking about it. But we're getting off track. My point is� well," she shrugged, "I think you should take better care of Hamilton."
Jake obviously didn't expect that turn in the subject. She blinked and tilted her head. "What?"
"It's none of my business, I know," Lena shrugged, "but hey, you guys know I've always been there for you, and I hope you don't mind this advice. I just think it's high time you looked after him a little."
"Sure, I don't mind�" Jake said hesitantly, "but I don't understand."
"Jake," Lena said patiently, "you finding out about your dad, about your brother, that's huge. No one's doubting it. And of course it's totally understandable for you to be worrying about it all the time these days. But have you thought about how it's affecting Hamilton? He's been waiting by your side, day in day out, listening to all your troubles and doing some of the worrying for you. It's taking a toll on him, too."
Jake still looked confused, so Lena spread her hands and asked, "Think of it this way: do you know what he's been doing the past week or so? What he's doing in class? Any assignments getting him down? What has he been doing with his friends? How are his parents?"
Jake pondered the questions, and glanced at Lena, her eyes wide. "I�" she muttered, "I don't know. I don't know what's going on with him."
Lena nodded. "Exactly."
"Did he complain?" Jake asked in a small voice.
"No," Lena lied quickly, "of course not. I just thought he looked a little down and maybe it'll be a good idea for you to, I don't know, pay some more attention to him in the next couple of days and listen to what's going on in his life."
"Yeah, I'll do that," Jake said quickly. "Thanks, Lena, thanks for bringing this up. I was so preoccupied with�" she shrugged, "everything. I didn't even stop to think that Hamilton might be getting fed up with listening to me all the time."
"It happens to all of us," Lena said, standing up, a small sadness flickering in her eyes. "I guess. We never pay enough attention to the people we love, but we expect them to always be there when we're in trouble. I just don't want to see it happen to you guys."
"Thanks again," Jake said as she walked the other girl to the door. "And what about you? How's Ryan?"
Lena paused for a moment before speaking. "Things are�" she searched for a right word, "difficult. But I'll manage."
Jake smiled at her, "You're a good friend, Lena."
"Thanks," the redhead grinned back and turned to go. As she sauntered down the hallway, she saw Hamilton walk up and she gave him a small wink. He looked at her hopefully, and then his gaze shifted toward the end of the corridor, where Jake was leaning against her doorframe, watching him shyly. He walked toward her, a smile breaking over his face.
Lena cast a brief glance over her shoulder, just in time to catch Jake reaching up to give Hamilton a firm kiss, and she smiled and walked on.
***
Malcolm and Will's room
Josh was quiet after they had finished, buttoning up his shirt without saying a word. His face and lips were so pale they seemed almost bloodless, and his hands shook a little as he pulled on his shoes.
Malcolm, too, got dressed in silence. He sat on the edge of the bed, his fingers interlinked, his head bowed, and he looked up silently as Josh stood up and strode across the floor.
*Our Lady Peace's 'Clumsy' begins to play*
Josh paused at the door, his hand gripping the handle, black hair falling forward and concealing his face.
"Thanks," he said tonelessly, and without a backward glance he let himself out, leaving Malcolm staring blankly at the empty doorway.
Throw away the radio suitcase
That keeps you awake
Hide the telephone, the telephone, telephone, in case
***
As Lena walked out of the boys' dormitory, she breathed in the icy night air, feeling its cleansing coolness flow straight through her body. Standing on the stone stairs outside the main door, she looked up at the night sky, an endless expanse of velvety blue-black with innumerable silver pinpricks scattered from horizon to horizon.
She smiled up at the stars and, with a new buoyancy in her step, set off towards the girls' dorms.
You realise that sometimes you're just not okay
You level off, you level off, you level off
And it's not all right now
***
Faye changed into her pyjamas and, checking that Paige was already in bed and tucked under the covers, flicked off her bedside lamp, casting the dorm room into darkness.
Paige faced away from her roommate; her pillow was already wet with tears. She clamped one hand over her mouth as she sobbed silently, her shoulders shaking under the restraint of silence.
You need to understand
There's nothing strange about this
You need to know your friends
You need to know that
***
I'll be waving my hand
Watching you drown
Watching you scream
Quiet or loud
"How has your day been?" asked Ryder, lighting up another cigarette.
Grace pondered the question. "Okay," she said, "there were ups and downs, but hey, that's life, right?"
He cocked an eyebrow. She merely laughed, hitting him playfully on the shoulder.
***
And maybe you should sleep
And maybe you just need a friend
As clumsy as you've been
There's no one laughing
You will be safe in here
Sitting in his office, lit only by the soft glow of his desk lamp, Finn turned to the last page of The Hours, quietly reading the words out loud.
"We live our lives, do whatever we do, and then we sleep � it's as simple and ordinary as that. A few jump out of windows or drown themselves or take pills; more die by accident; and most of us, the vast majority, are slowly devoured by some disease or, if we're very fortunate, by time itself. There's just this for consolation: an hour here or there when our lives seem, against all odds and expectations, to burst open and give us everything we've ever imagined, though everyone but children (and perhaps even they) knows these hours will inevitably be followed by others, far darker and more difficult. Still, we cherish the city, the morning; we hope more than anything, for more."
"Heaven only knows why we love it so."
He set the book down and turned to the window, separating the slats of his Venetian blinds with one hand. He looked out over the Rawley grounds, its outline blurred by the darkness. It was the end of another day.
You will be safe in here�
The End
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