0 5

o b l i v i o u s

The rest of lunch period that day passed in a blur. I came to realise that time flew whenever I was with Callum. Maybe it was the racing of my heart that sped things up a bit, or it was the comfortable conversation that ensued between the both of us.

Either way, I was sad when the bell rang and we had to part ways.

I was the first to climb down from the wall, pulling my bag and taking the empty tray with me - Callum had, of course, finished most of my cheese fries for me. I glanced up, realised that he was watching me leave. "Well," I said, rather timidly. "I'll see you around, I guess."

Turning to leave, I was startled when I felt his fingers reach out and close around my wrist.

"Let's go somewhere after school," he murmured, voice low and his eyes looking anywhere but at me. "There's this place - that, uh, sells me the best ice-cream and we - we could..."

The smile that leaped to my eyes stretched long, far, wide, spread like the vast, boundless sea on a calm summer day. "Okay."

His eyebrows rose as he looked at me in surprise, as if he wasn't expecting me to agree in the first place. "Really?"

Because sometimes, all you had to be was a little bit reckless - take that one last step off a cliff, hurl yourself off, and fall with your eyes wide open.

"Yeah, sure."

His lips curled up at the corners, both hesitant and warm. "I'll see you after school then, at my car."

Ducking my head in a quick nod, I headed off with my tray, back into the cafeteria. But my footsteps were light, skin tingling where his touch had been just mere seconds ago. And I could feel his eyes on me, watching me leave.

Each step I took widened the gap between us, a gap that was filled with our insecurities and fears. But there was just something about Callum that drew me back no matter how far I went, like a powerful magnetic force field that was both alluring and dangerous.

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The afternoon of Day Five was hot, the mid-afternoon sun scorching. I could smell the gravel in the parking lot, faint traces of diesel from the cars as I headed to Callum's car to wait for him.

The parking lot had less than the usual amount of people there generally was on a Friday. Most kids generally hung out there to talk for a bit before heading back home. Plus, it was just after lessons, and I'd pretty much rushed out after History was over - because the prospect of spending an afternoon with Callum was too good to be true. It was just a very strange, unsettling feeling that I couldn't shake off.

I waited around for a bit more, wondering if perhaps my cell had gone positively bonkers and was indicating the wrong time. It wasn't. Seven minutes after I had arrived in the parking lot, I heard quick footsteps and glanced up, only to see Greg sprinting across the road to me.

He came up, face flushed and panting heavily. "Have you seen Callum?"

My eyebrows shot up - it was unusual that Greg didn't know of Callum's whereabouts, since the two were fairly close friends. "No."

"I've been searching for him all over school, and I can't find him."

Something in Greg's tone sent a sharp tingle of worry through every nerve of my being. He didn't say anything, but I knew what he meant, I saw the harsh reality that was staring us in the face - we were still stuck in Hell Week, and there were ambushes set up everywhere, all over.

Never, ever, let your guard down.

I glanced at Greg, the fear in my eyes was clear as crystal, and he immediately began to head towards the direction of the school building. I followed as quickly as I could, clutching the strap of my bag tight in my fingers.

"I swear, Scout," he snapped, when I caught up with him. "If Callum's hurt, the rest of us won't let your friends off that easy."

"Jason's just a little mad about Hell Week, that's all. He's still pretty rational."

But there was no telling if I said it to reassure him, or myself. I had no guarantees that Jason could think with a levelled-head. Perhaps there came a time when you got pushed too far and hurt too much, you just lost all semblance of rationality.

"Your faith in your friend is alarming," Greg returned, his tone almost sardonic. "Then again, you always have seen the best in people, haven't you? That's what made Callum fall for you in the first place."

That's what made Callum fall for you in the first place.

He'd said it so nonchalantly that I could not stop myself from pausing in surprise, my eyes widening.

"He what?" I blurted. My heart was hammering in my chest, nails digging deep into my palm as my fingers curled around the strap of my back. And even as I asked that, hope surged through me, an idiotic smile threatened to spread on my face.

Greg rolled his eyes and continued walking. "Please. It was so obvious. Didn't you ever catch him staring at you like an idiot whenever we walked past you in the hallway? He always thought you'd already figured it out yourself - given the fact that your friend Burke never stopped being an ass about it."

Even though Jason and I weren't friends anymore, I couldn't help but jump to his defence. After all, this was the guy who'd stood by me ever since I was ditched by Alexia.

"Come on," I told Greg, trying to match my strides with his. "When was Jason ever an ass? All you guys ever did to him was push him around and treat him like he was beneath you, and - "

My voice trailed off as Greg turned to look at me. Even if that surge of confidence had led me to say what I really felt, my courage left me seconds later, the words shrivelled and dried on my lips.

Instead of being angered, like I expected he would be, Greg simply smirked. "And what?"

There were a lot of things I had to say, wanted to say. Things like how I wanted all the bullying to just stop. Forever. I wanted them to stop treating Jason and the others like scum beneath their feet. I wanted there to be no divide, I wanted there to be no bullies or bullied. Just people. People who treated other people with basic respect because that was the least we all deserved. Every single one of us.

But I couldn't, because some things just weren't easy to say. Instead, I shook my head and ducked away from Greg's probing gaze.

"Maybe it's just your stupid optimism getting in your way of seeing people for who they really are," He started, his voice marginally gentler than it'd originally been. "But things aren't always as they seem, and to understand everything you have to see the bigger picture."

I stared at him in surprise as we walked. It was difficult to comprehend or even grasp the current situation. Greg and I were walking around the school together in search for Callum, but we were talking like normal people, like Hell Week and all social barriers were non-existent, like he was a boy and I was a girl and we were having a normal conversation.

It was odd, because I was more used to seeing Greg and his tough, quarterback act.

Just as I was about to open my mouth and ask what the bigger picture was, Greg glanced at his cell, his eyebrows knitting together as he stared at the screen.

"Text from Callum," he murmured, his voice tensed, "He says he wants to meet me near the side gate behind the science building."

"Can I come?"

"I don't see why not."

I trailed after Greg without a word, and our brisk walk towards the science building proceeded in a nervous silence. Twiddling my thumbs anxiously, I could hardly wait to find out what was up with Callum, why he didn't meet me when he promised he would.

The science building was pretty empty by the time we got there, and as we rounded the side wall to head to the back, we realised exactly what had happened to Callum. It was practically déjà vu - the scene I saw on the third day of Hell Week flashed before my eyes; Callum, with his back against the wheel of his car, the blood-stained shirt, bruises and scratches on his arms.

It was exactly the same this time, if not worse. The cuts seemed deeper, more brutal, the bruises darker, uglier shades of blues and blacks. His arms were propped up on his knees, head placed carefully between them, and he took deep, shuddering breaths like it was hard to even breathe.

An involuntary gasp escaped my lips, and he glanced up. His eyes widened as he took in my horrified reaction.

"Hey," Forcing a smile onto his face, he quickly tried to pull himself up, only to have his knees collapse from under him. Greg and I immediately rushed forward to help him.

"What the hell, man?" Greg was practically seething as he hauled Callum into standing position. "Did Burke and the others do this?"

Callum cast a brief glance at me before shaking his head. "It's fine. Just forget it," he muttered, as I slipped an arm around his waist. I felt his muscles tense as he gingerly drew his arm across my shoulders.

"It's not fine," Greg spat, angrily, as he pulled Callum's arm over his shoulder, carrying most of his weight. "This is so fucked up. I don't know who the hell they think they are, but - "

"We'll talk about it later."

"We'll talk about it now, Wright. Those assholes think that just because it's Hell Week - "

"Greg," Callum's voice was sharp enough for Greg to stop talking. I glanced up, and noticed the two of them exchange a look with each other, a multitude of words with just that single action. It made me wonder just how much I didn't know, how much I never saw. "Just drop it."

And Greg begrudgingly dropped it.

The walk back to the parking lot was silent - Callum was in pain, Greg was too furious to say a word, and I was consumed in my thoughts. It frightened - no, terrified - me that someone had done this to Callum. I wasn't sure of who it was, maybe Callum had just offended some other people. I didn't like to pinpoint the culprit, even though Greg was pretty much convinced it was Jason and my old friends.

It couldn't be them. I was almost certain it couldn't. For I was certain that the people I had loved and trusted with all my heart for the past few years were good people, incapable of hurting anybody. They had the capacity of being jerks, but so did every other boy.

It was just...unimaginable. Unfathomable. It couldn't have been them.

It couldn't.

Yet, doubt itself had already sown its seed in my mind, and I found myself repeating the words in my head in an attempt to convince myself.

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In the end, the three of us agreed that it'd be best if I were to take Callum home and help him treat his wounds. Callum had no wish to go to the hospital and he hadn't liked to make his mother worry either, and Greg had to pick up his little sister from preschool. So that left me to tend to Callum's bruises.

I drove him home that afternoon, and as we made small talk in the car, I made an effort not to talk about anything that had to do with Hell Week, or Jason, or any of the things that would upset either of us. Instead, I rambled on about music, about movies, anything to keep the silence and the harsh reality of Callum's predicament from engulfing us whole.

When we got back, Molly was horrified by the sight of Callum's wounds. After directing him to the bathroom upstairs, she took me aside into the kitchen, her expression serious.

"What happened, Scout?" There was a no-nonsense tone to her voice, and I knew there was no evading her question.

"I don't know," I admitted, wrapping my arms around myself. So many things had happened that day that those few hours seemed to take an eternity. The roller coaster of emotions I had gone through was immense. Overwhelming.

And I didn't know what to think anymore.

"I'm scared," I whispered, looking up at Molly. "Because everything's happening too fast and quick for me to comprehend. I don't know who I can trust, or whose side I should be on, or if I should even be choosing a side in the first place. Maybe we're all wrong, in some way or other."

Molly didn't say anything. Instead, she took a step forward and engulfed me in a hug that was more comforting than anything she could possibly say. Actions spoke louder than words, and with that one action, my fears were much assuaged.

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I eventually headed upstairs with a first-aid kit, after having Molly briefly explain how to clean cuts and treat bruises. Callum was already in the bathroom, arms wet as he placed them under the running tap. He treated his wounds like they were everyday occurrences, like they never bothered him anymore.

Setting the first-aid box down on the sink, I shut the door gently behind me, and he glanced up, before returning his attention to the cuts on his face.

"I'm just about done," he said, voice muffled as he ran his palms down the plane of his cheeks to get rid of the grime and blood. "Don't worry about plasters or antiseptic, it's all good."

"It's not all good, you need to treat those - "

"It's fine, Scout."

"Callum," there was a note of finality in my voice that made him stop mid-action. "Just sit down."

He sat down on the edge of the bathtub in resignation, and I opened the first-aid box, slowly taking out the equipment I knew he needed. His eyes followed my every move closely, watching as I assembled the gauze, the antiseptic cream and plasters on the floor in front of him.

"Don't move," I told him softly, before tilting his head to face me so I could examine the cuts closely. The cuts were hardly noticeable from afar, but up close, I could see the red lines splitting the skin on his cheek, on his jawline, on his neck. As I dabbed at his face with the antiseptic, I noticed the ugly splotches of blood-clots on his cheek, like he'd been punched right in the face.

"You want to tell me what happened?" I asked, at last, after working on his wounds for a good ten minutes.

Callum winced briefly as my finger brushed against a particularly large bruise, but his composure was calm, almost emotionless. "Not exactly."

"Fine." But I could not keep the hurt out from my voice as I said that.

"It's not like that - " he started, hesitantly, like he had trouble finding the right words to say. "It's not that I don't want to tell you. That's not it. I just think it's better that you not know."

I kept silent.

"Scout?"

"I'm just tired of not knowing," I blurted, looking up at him. "I'm tired of staying in oblivion, I'm tired of not knowing what's going on. I don't want to feel so - helpless, all the time. Just watching Jason and my other friends get bullied and not be able to do anything about it because they won't let me. Watching you get hurt and not being able to understand why, or who did it, not knowing if it'll ever happen again."

The last of Callum's wounds had been cleaned, and I stood up, beginning to pack the equipment back into the first-aid box.

"You know what?" I murmured, wearily. "Just forget it. I guess I just wanted to do something for once, to stop the bullying and the negativity. But I guess that's not possible, is it? I guess people will just continue to keep getting hurt, and I guess all I can do is just watch and feel absolutely shit about it, but not be able to do anything at all."

"That's not true," Callum got to his feet and stepped towards me. "Don't beat yourself up about it, because this isn't your fight to begin with."

My jaw fell open, and I whirled around to face him, eyes wide. "Not my fight? Not my fight? This has been my fight, ever since the first day I stuck with you during Hell Week. I chose to involve myself because I know how brutal things can get sometimes. And more than anything, I chose to involve myself because it hurt me to see you fighting this lonely battle all by yourself, because I care about you!"

Callum's eyes widened in surprise, and I belatedly realised the awful truth that I had accidentally let slip. I'd known this for a long time, and yet I was never courageous enough to admit it to myself, much less him.

But now I had done it, and my words were irretrievable.

"What?" his voice was barely a whisper.

And it was fear that made me back-peddle, deny what I knew was the blatant and obvious truth. "No, I-I didn't mean it like that," I stammered, hastily looking away. "I mean, of course I care about you but not in that way, of course."

His face was impassive, unmoving. "Then what way did you mean?"

"I meant - " I faltered, mouth dry, heart pounding in my chest. And even as I was aware of the grave I'd basically dug for myself, Greg's words still surfaced in my mind - That's what made Callum fall for you in the first place.

And it was those words that made something click in my mind, like a puzzle piece that just somehow fit in a complicated jigsaw. After all, sometimes, actions spoke louder than words.

"Oh, forget it," I murmured, circling my arms around Callum's neck, and pulling him down to me so that his lips met mine.