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e n v i o u s

The afternoon sun was scorching, while the light breeze cooled my cheeks, it did nothing to soothe the heat that beat down on us relentlessly. But it wasn't the weather, or the bunch of kids talking far too loudly in the corner of the parking lot that caught my eye.

It was the two boys deep in conversation that did. It was merely a cursory glance I threw in their direction, but my heart clenched at the sight of it - Greg saying something to Callum and laughing raucously, the latter simply nodding, his face expressionless.

Unconsciously, my steps slowed, and I glanced at them again. I wondered if he felt the same way I did; lost, confused, a feeling of entrapment so strong it was almost crushing. Perhaps I stopped to stare for a moment too long, for Callum glanced up abruptly, as if he had felt a pair of eyes on him.

Our gazes interlocked - and I felt like if gazes could be measured in distance and time, he was the starting point, I was miles away; he was a single millisecond, and I was infinite. Thus was the unspeakable width and depth and breadth of the void that separated us, in which lay nothing but oblivion.

Feeling a rush of embarrassment as he'd caught me staring, I hastened to my car. But I heard footsteps behind me, fast, swift ones that trailed in my wake and closed the distance between us. Before I knew it, his fingers were sliding across the skin on my wrist, and he gently pulled me to a halt.

"Scout."

I stilled. The warmth of his hand seeped into my skin, his touch both alluring and - as I had come to know - dangerous.

"What happened?"

His words surprised me, and I turned to look at him, eyebrows raised. Over his shoulder, I saw Greg leaning against his car, a lazy smile on his face and one hand up in a mock salute as he watched us. Even though Greg and I stood on different ends of the spectrum, there was no doubt that he still found me, found us - Callum and I - amusing.

I returned my attention to Callum, who wore an expression that was an odd mix of worry and hesitance.

"What do you mean?" I asked, flatly.

"Your expression's a dead giveaway."

I was beyond surprised - in fact, I was rendered speechless by his words, because how had he known, how had he seen? My encounter with Marcel and her friends earlier that day had shaken me more than I liked to admit, yet no one had observed it, no one - not even Greg or Henry, both of whom I had lessons with - had seen it, but him.

I felt like I could fall apart in his arms. I was fragile, you see, weak, not strong like the others. Words hurt me more than actions ever could, and Marcel's words about my parents had hurt in a place where no physical abuse ever could.

And just as the urge to fall apart came, Alexia's words also came to mind. It was not a light-bulb moment, one that enlightened me, but it was a moment of understanding, of finally realising what I needed to be.

So I said, "I'm fine. Don't worry about me."

His eyebrows furrowed, and as he slid his fingers up my arm, I couldn't help but flinch. Not at his touch, but at the contact his skin made with the scratch marks Marcel had left behind. His eyes widened, and he glanced down. "What the hell is this?"

"That's irrelevant."

His eyes narrowed. "This isn't funny, I swear if I find out - "

"You won't."

"For fuck's sake, Scout - "

"Callum."

He stopped and finally looked at me.

"I need to learn to be strong," I said, softly, "And you need to learn to let me go."

I saw a glimpse of hurt in his eyes, his expression no longer guarded, he was susceptible to hurt, as was I, as were we all.

"Scout, I - "

"Please."

I wasn't sure which one of us made the first move - was he the one to let me go or was I the one to pull away? But as I felt the loss of his warmth on my skin, an emptiness spread within me, the permanence of that emptiness was terrifying, heart-breaking.

But I couldn't turn back, and I forced myself to walk away. I needed to be strong, for all the years and times I couldn't be strong. Not merely for myself but for the both of us.

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So it came about that when I next saw Callum, two days later in the hallway, I did not run away as I would have done before. Instead, I stood my ground and continued walking. My iPod was plugged in, bag slung carelessly over my shoulder, everything was the same as before - only this time, I kept my head raised, for I had nothing to hide and nothing to fear.

And even if I did, I knew now that I couldn't let it show.

Keith and Vince were with him this time, and it was the latter who saw me first. His eyes lit in recognition, and he ducked his head in a slight nod of acknowledgement. I smiled back, but the smile faded as Callum noticed me heading their way.

His expression was guarded, and I kept mine neutral. I realised, then, how easy it was to put on a façade every single day of your life. To pretend everything was fine when it wasn't, as if nothing bothered you, to look someone in the eye and act like they didn't mean a damn thing to you.

And this time, he looked away first.

I walked past the trio, kept my head levelled and gaze straight, until I reached my locker, where Jason was waiting for me. There was a smug, self-satisfied grin on his face, and I raised my eyebrows questioningly.

"What's made you so happy?"

"Oh, you know," he gave a noncommittal shrug, "Just the fact that those assholes haven't done a thing to us after that incident on Monday. I guess we taught them their lesson."

No, they hadn't. I knew for a fact that just because the bullying had lessened didn't mean that it was going to stop for all eternity. Life just didn't work that way. A part of me hoped that Callum had toned down on the bullying because of me, but the more rational side of me knew that wasn't the case.

Maybe he was just as tired as I was. Maybe we all were.

"Anyway," Jason continued, as I began taking my books out of the locker. "I saw Wright look at you in the hallway earlier."

My heart twisted at his words. I hadn't thought anyone noticed that.

"I'm glad you ignored him. He was only playing mind games with you, messing with your head. He wasn't worth it."

It was then that something in me snapped. Reality came crashing down like a ten-feet wall smashed to smithereens, and I realised that I was done.

Perhaps I was being irrational, hot-headed. But the words tumbled out of my mouth in a rush, like water gushing forth from a broken dam, a dam that had been sewed shut for so long it had finally burst.

I slammed my locker door shut and turned to face Jason. "He's playing mind games with me?" I echoed, angrily. "Don't you see, you're playing mind games with me too!"

Jason's eyes widened, he looked completely perplexed. "All I was saying was that it's a good thing that you're back on our side, just the way things should've been all - "

"There aren't any sides to choose from in the first place," I snapped, cutting him off abruptly. "There is no us and them, this isn't a war, it's high school."

His eyes narrowed. "What's gotten into you?"

I sighed, the fire quickly going out of my eyes. "I'm sorry, Jason. I'm grateful that you've been here, beside me, all this while, ever since freshman year. It's been an amazing ride. But the fact that you forced me to choose sides in the first place made me realise that our friendship wasn't as strong as I thought it was."

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying our friendship is only as real as high school is," I replied, calmly, "And that I'm done."

I turned to leave, but his words stopped me.

"If you were expecting me to feel the slightest bit of remorse for what I've said or done to those assholes," he started, his voice low and vehement. "Then that's where you're wrong. The thing is, Scout, I will never be sorry for my actions, because they deserved it, every bit of it. All those years of pushing me around and pretending like I don't exist - you want me to swallow down the hurt and act like I'm okay with it? I can't do that."

There was something in his words, his tone, that made me realise I was never going to look at him the same way again. His pride was so great it became his defence mechanism, but what was even greater than his pride was that immeasurable amount of hatred within him that he'd kept bottled up for years.

"Alright then," I returned, softly, before walking away from him, not once looking back.

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I hadn't originally thought about the consequences of leaving Jason, but at the beginning of sixth period that day, it eventually dawned on me that this was it. This was the end of an era, Jason was now a part of history, and the thought of navigating through high school without him was incredibly daunting.

Burying my head in my arms, I sighed. Had I done the right thing ending our friendship? Or was I behaving far too recklessly? He was, after all, the closest friend I had.

A sudden movement beside me made me lift my head. It was Dave, who took the same class as I did, and he dropped his bag on the table next to mine before settling down on his usual seat.

"I heard you and Jason had a fallout," he sounded more amused than disappointed, his lips curling into a small smile.

"A permanent fallout," I returned, my voice small. I had originally thought that Alexia's advice worked, it had made me strong. But I was fast realising that this wasn't how it worked. I couldn't be Scout one day and Hercules the next.

"How're you holding up?"

I glanced down, picking at the little scratch on my desk. "I'm alright," I murmured, and then, after a pause - "I'm fine."

"Like hell you are," he scoffed, almost immediately, and I glanced up in surprise. His eyes were dancing with amusement as he looked at me. "Scout, you practically wear your heart on your sleeve. I know you well enough to know that you're far from fine."

I kept silent, for he was right. I wasn't fine, not at all, I hated that people could see right through me so easily, I hated that things affected me more than they should have.

"I was thinking," Dave continued, "Maybe Callum deserves another chance."

Surprised, I turned to him and was about to ask him what he meant when Miss Jacelyn, the substitute teacher for algebra, entered the room. She greeted the class, and we greeted her back in rather bored tones, for it was a warm, musky afternoon and maths just didn't sit well with most of us.

The class erupted into chatters when she turned to write some questions on the board - for Miss Jacelyn was both young and easy-going - and I nudged Dave, eager for an explanation.

"What do you mean by that?"

He shrugged. "Callum's been unexpectedly easy on us these couple of days," he explained, as he continued to copy the questions down onto his notebook. "I mean, sure, I've seen Henry and some of the others get into a couple of scuffles these past few days - the usual, nothing big, Callum's the ringleader as always. But he didn't actually hurt them like he used to."

"It's still wrong," I pointed out, "Callum's still an ass for picking on them."

"Well, you know, old habits die hard. Kind of like how Jason - "

I glanced up quickly from my notebook as Dave trailed off abruptly, his cheeks darkening several shades of red, his head ducked down as if he'd revealed something he shouldn't have said.

"Kind of like how Jason, what?" I prompted, eyes alight with curiosity.

"I - " he began, rather sheepishly, before frowning at his notebook. "Miss Jacelyn?"

Our teacher turned, beaming when she realised it was one of her favourite students who had a question for her. Dave, as expected, was a complete whiz at algebra.

"Yes, Dave?"

"Shouldn't question two read nineteen-x over fifty-y instead of fifty-x?"

Miss Jacelyn peered at the whiteboard, before nodding and shooting him a grateful smile. "Most acute observation, thank you, Dave."

Dave turned back to me, a satisfied smile on his face.

I, on the other hand, was less than amused. "If it was fifty-x it would have been a lot easier to complete the question."

"Then where would be the fun in that?" he laughed, and I swatted him.

"Geek."

"I take pride in being a geek. Don't say it like it's a bad thing."

"I know," I chuckled, humouring him obligingly. "Geek is the new sexy."

We laughed for a bit, before I nudged him again, rather impatiently. "So? What did Jason do?"

The smile on his face faded, and he shifted, rather uncomfortably. "Let's just say that he's got a habit of being overly judgemental. And, er, a bit of an ass at times."

"I fail to see how this is relevant?"

"Look at it this way, Scout - you know how the bunch of us guys get bullied more often than any of the other guys?"

I nodded, a little unsurely. This was news to me - I had always presumed Callum and his friends dished out the same amount of bullying to any guy they weren't happy with. I had presumed it was just in their somewhat sadistic nature.

"And within the group of us," Dave continued, softly. "Jason and Henry get it the worst. Ever wondered why? Why doesn't Callum push me around, why does he simply content himself with pretending like I don't exist? And why does he go the extra mile when it comes to Jason?"

His words rendered me speechless - slowly, bit by bit, the pieces of the puzzle were beginning to fit together, I was beginning to see the bigger picture. The picture, however, was still completely fuzzy and unclear.

"I don't know this for sure, but I suspect that Jason's sharp-tongue gets him into a lot of trouble," Dave added, when I didn't say a word. I noticed him stare at me through my peripheral vision. "Jason might not be physically agile, but he's quick-thinking, he has a way with words. He knows Callum's weakness, and he never stops taunting the latter about it. I've not seen it happen, but that's what I suspect."

This was all new to me, and my mind was carefully blank, I had no idea what to think. "And - and Callum's weakness?" I ventured, curiously. "What is it?"

Dave seemed genuinely surprised by my question, his pen hovered over his notebook hesitantly, and he fidgeted.

"Well," he chuckled, nervously. "I thought you'd have figured it out by now."

My eyes widened. "No, I haven't. Is Callum having some problems or - "

"Scout," he cut me off, gently. "It's you."