Thursday, February 13th, 2020

Harry's bright face is the only thing keeping me awake. The walk over to his house before school has left me exhausted.

I let the air-con cool my hot face as he drives up the street.

"Maths first thing today. I remembered my textbook this time at least."

I groan, leaning my head against the window. "Why does it have to be first period? I can't stand maths."

"How're you feeling anyway? Did you have a good sleep?"

He's driving one-handed, his wrist hanging loosely over the steering wheel. He glances over at me briefly, smiling kindly.

"I'm fine. Slept well."

Not exactly.

Mum was up all night crying, not that she wanted me to hear her. She'd locked herself in the bathroom half the night, while dad stood patiently outside, hand pressed against the doorframe. She reappeared when I was getting ready for bed. She'd wiped the makeup off her face and suddenly looked so young and vulnerable. I forgot at times that she was only 36.

"That's good to hear then," he nods, flicking the blinker to turn left.

"You sound like my dad," I jab, offering him a small smile.

The way my dad used to be anyway.

"Oh yeah? How so?"

"Thoughtful. Worried. Always just making sure everything is...steady."

"Sounds like a good man."

"Yeah," I clear my throat, looking out the window. "He is. Good for my mum."

We're getting closer to the school now, only a few more streets away.

"You don't talk about them much, I've noticed."

"You don't talk about yours either," I retort.

"Touché."

"Any reason for that?" I ask at the same time he says, "Are you close to them?"

We laugh lightly and I fiddle with the bracelet around my wrist.

"We've just been distant lately, I guess. It wasn't always like this," he whispers.

He looks out his window for a second, his jaw clenched. I don't push him, knowing that he doesn't want to talk about.

"Same with me. I used to be able to tell them anything. Now, not so much."

Shit. WHAT are you doing?

I clamp my mouth shut to stop the excessive blabbering. I hoped this didn't happen every time he offered to give me a lift.

I spin my bracelet around my wrist, staring at the silver L inscribed on the outside.

"I notice you wearing that a lot. Mean something to you?"

"Happy birthday, sis. This is from all of us."

"Yeah," I mutter. "Pretty special."

"From a boyfriend back home or..."

This was not where I expected the conversation to be heading. I can feel my face turning a slight shade of red. I focus on my lap, my blonde hair falling into my face.

"It's from my parents," I explain. "Sixteenth birthday."

He looks relieved and it makes my heart swell. I try to tell myself that it means nothing, that even if it did, it couldn't mean anything.

He's turning into school now and I notice something black flash on the inside of his bicep. It's placed on his right arm and I watch him as he turns the wheel.

"You've got a tattoo?" I question.

He unbuckles his seatbelt, picking up his schoolbag from the backseat.

"Got it for my eighteenth birthday last month. Don't think my parents were impressed."

"Can I see it?" I ask, suddenly curious.

I'd always thought about getting a tattoo once I turn eighteen, I just never knew what.

"Um..."

He seems hesitant like he doesn't want me to see it at all.

I feel embarrassed suddenly, wishing that I never asked in the first place. He didn't want me to see it for whatever reason and I needed to respect that.

"It's alright, you don't have to show me," I laugh nervously, picking up my backpack.

"No, Lon, it's—"

"Seriously, it's fine. I get it. It's probably super personal or something and I'm overstepping. Sorry, I shouldn't have—"

"Lon. It's okay. I want to show you."

"Are you sure? Don't feel like you have to now just because I've made you feel bad."

He shakes his head as I nervously blabber on about nothing. He stops me by placing his hand on my arm. My mouth hangs open and I have to clamp it shut to pull myself together.

How much more pathetic could I get?

"It's fine. I want to. I just...I don't show many people. Only my friends and family have seen it."

"You really don't—"

"Lonnie," he laughs. "Here, look."

He lifts the sleeve of his uniform, flipping his arm over, drawing it out towards me.

The tattoo is no longer than my middle finger but the detail is incredible. It's an outline of a gun in black ink with red roses coming out of the muzzle. Each rose petal has been intricately drawn on and I can't resist running my finger against it.

"It's beautiful," I breath.

"Yeah," he says, his voice suddenly husky. "They did a good job."

The design is something that I'd probably have looked at for myself. Something that had meaning for me.

"I only ever want to get tattoos that had meaning behind them, you know? I don't want things that don't mean something to me," Harry voices, suddenly speaking my exact thoughts.

"Yeah. I get that. I've always wanted something small on my wrist, I just don't know what."

"When do you turn eighteen?" he asks.

"May 8th."

"Well, let me know if you make up your mind. I know some really talented artists if you're interested."

"Thanks," I smile, withdrawing my fingers from his arm. I hadn't realised how close we had gotten.

The first warning bell rings and I jump in my seat, holding my bag tightly.

"We should probably—"

"Yeah we should definitely—"

"Yep."

"Yeah," Harry agrees, nodding his head vigorously.

He opens the door and steps outside. I close my eyes momentarily, collecting myself before joining him as we walk up the steps together.

"I'm so glad you're alright," Kennedy breathes, holding onto my arm tightly.

We're sitting outside at what must be their usual spot. Everyone is here except Harry, but that wasn't unusual. His disappearing act was something I was getting used to.

"Me too," Sydney agrees, eyes wide. "I've never seen anyone faint before. It's scary, especially because you don't know what's happening to them at first."

"Sorry," I mutter, giving her an apologetic smile.

"What? Don't be silly! It's not like you asked to collapse!" Sydney scoffs, munching on her cheese and crackers.

"Do you remember it happening?" Cooper asks, his stare quizzical.

I shake my head. "Not really. I just remember standing up and feeling lightheaded and then later waking up in first aid."

"Shit," Asher speaks, his brows furrowed. "Lucky you didn't like, smash your head against the desk or something. That would have hurt. Imagine the amount of blood."

"Really, Ash? Really?" Sydney snaps.

He stares at her, frowning. "What? All I said was imagine how much blood there would have been!"

She throws her arms up in the air like she can't believe him. They start to bicker with each other but I'm not focused on their words.

"Take your time, London. These things aren't easy and I understand if you need to leave at any time."

She pulls back the sheet, revealing my brothers face. My eyes instantly focus on the bullet hole between his brows.

"It's not him."

"Are you—"

"It can't be him. Why? Why would he..."

"Lonnie?" Kennedy's worried voice pulls me out from my thoughts.

Everyone is watching me now. I wonder when Asher and Sydney stopped fighting and starting sharing a packet of chips. How long had I been out of it for?

"Sorry," I say, rubbing my face to focus. "Day—"

"Dreaming?" Harry abruptly speaks. He appears at the table out of nowhere, everyone pleasantly welcoming him.

I clasp my hands together, giving him a tight smile. Kennedy rubs my back soothingly and I suddenly feel emotional.

I stand up abruptly, causing all heads to turn in my direction. "Bathroom," I squeak.

"You're going the wrong way!" Asher shouts.

I don't care and I definitely don't turn around. I just needed to get away.

This was a mistake. This was all a mistake. Why didn't my parents just home school me? Why did they have to torture me like this?

I was way too attached and I'd only been here for two weeks. Not only that but I didn't want to let them down. I didn't want them to realise that I wasn't the person they thought I was.

They thought I was a friend. They thought that they could trust me. I was being selfish, dragging them into my mess just because I had been lonely.

What about all those familes your brother ruined, huh? You think you're lonely, what about them?

My cheeks feel damp and I'm surprised to find that I'm crying. This was ridiculous, what was I doing?

Remember who you are now.

Remember.

Remember.

The tears stop but I don't. I keep walking until I'm on the outskirts of school and I don't look back.