< -- seven -- >

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Sitting in Coach Henson's office surrounded by cold grey stone walls he continued to try and persuade me to play for him next year as if my answer would change. I was serious when I said no, as I had been when Cas died.

Baseball wasn't my sport. I played to be with my brother. It was our thing when we were little and now that he was gone I was done. There was no need for me to keep playing and having one less arm wouldn't help.

"I believe - as much as your parents, that you can get yourself a scholarship to play in college. You are that amazing Lars."

"Look Mr. Henson -"

He cut me off leaning back in his chair to laugh, "Oh, so I'm Mr. Henson now and not Coach? "

"You're not my coach." I replied through grit teeth. Looking down at my right hand I inhaled through my nose exhaling as I relaxed my fingers from the tight fist I was making. The indent of my fingernails in my palm turned back to its pinkish color once the blood flow returned.

Cutting his laugh short he stared at me waiting to see if I would chalk it up as a joke but I had no plan to. I did however, plan to get up and walk the hell out of the shithole he called an office.

"So what did your parents say?" He asked crossing his right leg over the left.

Damn

Holding his stare as long as I could the image of my mom's broken face made me look away. I knew how much she loved watching her boys play together. Mom didn't mind waking up early or making over an hour long drive to watch us play the next town's team unlike dad who criticized us whether we won or lost. There was always more that we could have down. Run faster to base, threw the ball better, hit the ball harder. It was always something and never good job boys.

"I'm guessing you haven't told them yet." I caught him quickly trying to cover up a smirk. "You know Lars," he sat up turning to me, "we could avoid upsetting your mother if you would just simply agree to play for me next year. Your parents would never have to know that we had this conversation and I wouldn't need to go to them hoping they could persuade you to play. All you have to do it agree. Simple."

Thinking of the long and drawn out argument I would have with my dad. The crying Eloise would do because dad liked to grab and shake you like a bobble head leaving bruises. How mom would try to look okay with my decision to not play with puffy red eyes.

As much as I didn't want to play baseball next year, playing would save everyone in my household from their emotions spiraling out of control. It would save us from screaming at each other.

Feeling a sudden pain at the end of my arm stump I bounced my knee tugging at both piercings trying to keep the pain at bay. "Can I . . . um," feeling the perspiration began to form at my hairline over my scar the pain in my arm intensified, "can I get some time to think about it?"

"Of course you can but don't take too long. The season will be here before you know it."

I nodded my head unable to comment.

Signing my pass he reached across the desk handing it back to me. "Go ahead and get back to class. We'll talk soon."

Taking my pass I scurried out of his office and down the hall tugging at my prosthetic wanting the stupid thing to come off. Pressing the button on the side repeatingly I tugged on the bionic arm wanting to be freed.

I hated this arm. I hated waking up in the middle of the night thinking that's it was still there. I hate having to clean the prosthetic, rubbing ointment on my stump, having to take it off and put it on. I hate that it was Cas instead of me. The perfect son. The one that could have played professionally. The one that everyone in school - hell, the town loved.

Hearing the buzzing stop I yanked the fake arm off falling to my knees as it hit the ground rolling to the wall. Rubbing my stump I applied pressure to the scarred skin repeating over and over again that I was fine. Repeating the lie to myself so my brain would slow down enough for me to regain control of my thoughts and feelings.

Scooting against the wall I pulled my legs to my chest. Lowering my head I continued to breath deeply wishing that this wasn't my life. That I should have never asked to drive his car.

It's all my fault

It's all my fault

"It's all my fault. It's all my fault. It's -"

"Lars, is that you?" Lifting my head I looked down the hall through blurry tears at a figure that sounded a lot like Neema.

Wiping my eyes I looked across the hall at my bionic arm. Shit.

"I thought we were going to find each other for lunch? Lars?" Hearing the sound of her steps move closer I pushed off the wall grabbing the arm as I sat on the floor tucking it in between my legs and chest. Wiping my eyes I looked at the empty sleeve where my left arm should be trying to think of a way to keep Neema from noticing. "Lars, are you okay?"

"What's up Ms. Marshall? How's my girlfriend's day going?" I tried to cover up as best as I could.

Stopping a few feet from me she looked down the hall then back to me. "Are you okay? You seem . . . upset."

"Far from it babe." I lied just needing her to leave. "Did you give my question some thought?"

"What question?"

"Getting out of here."

She shook her head, "You mean skipping school?"

"I mean us going to hang out alone so we can get to know each other. You are my girlfriend after all and I should know things about you, don't you think?"

"Oh um . . . well I mean yes but -"

"Great, we'll leave after lunch."

"But -"

"Meet me by those doors we were at before. You have a car, right?"

"Yes, but -"

"Good. Bring your keys then. Now don't fill up on lunch too much and act normal."

"Lars, I can't. We only have a week of school left."

"Then go!" Seeing her jump I cursed at myself for yelling at her. "Neema, I'm sorry I -"

"No, it's . . .I'm just going to go."

Watching her walk away faster then she came I lowered my head to my knees hating myself all the more. I didn't mean to yell at her I just needed her to walk away so I could put my arm on. I wasn't ready to watch her stare at what used to be me.

Knocking my head a few times on the wall behind me I closed my eyes needing to figure out a way to apologize to her. I wanted our friendship to continue with a fake relationship in it or not. I want to be her friend and get to know her more. I want to eventually be able to learn how our past connects but I needed her to like me first.

Resting my right elbow on my knee I pushed my slightly wet hair from my face. "Stop being such an asshole Lars."

Rolling the sleeve back up I put the prosthetic arm back on pressing the side button until it tightened around my stump. Once the beep sounded confirming that the sensors were in effect I moved my wrist side to side first and then my fingers still hating the fax machine sound I made.

Heading to the cafeteria to make sure Ethan was there unharmed with his friends I would find Neema afterwards and apologize. We had only been pretend dating for less than twenty-four hours and had our first mediocre fight.

The cafeteria always made me feel like all eyes were on me. That everyone was staring at me waiting for my arm to fall off or for me to have an outburst and start a fight. Badboy, was a terrible label that should be stamped across Griffin's forehead right underneath a-hole, not mine. He started trouble, didn't care about the consequences, basically doing whatever he wanted when it felt right.

Opening the door to the cafeteria I looked around the room for Ethan spotting him in the back corner with his friends. Normally I would leave him to hangout with his cool friends to talk about electronics and other new inventions they were trying to figure out but I needed to make sure he was okay instead of looking at his back.

Making my way through the bright room full of students complaining about class or how much time is still left in the school day. There was a conversation I heard while passing about a girl going to Europe for summer vacation. Lucky girl.

Stopping at Ethan and his friends I knocked on the table lightly, "Hey Ethan. How are you feeling?"

Turning to me my jaw tightened feeling the anger build at the bruise forming around the small cut under his eye. Dropping his eyes to the styrofoam bowl holding his mashed potatoes he moved them around with his spoon. "I'll be fine."

Nodding my head I turned to his friend, "How about you Mike?"

"I'm better."

"Good. Good. You two shouldn't worry about those guy that did this to you. I will -"

"You should leave it alone Lars." Turning my head to Ethan he continued to play in his food.

"What?"

"You should leave it alone." He turned to me, "I'm - no, we're asking you to leave it alone."

Looking back to Mike he quickly looked down at his tray finding interest in his spicy chicken sandwich. "Well, I'm not asking. Those guys need to pay for their actions."

"And they will."

"By who Ethan? Come on, you're smarter than this. You know how Principal Howard is going to act."

"Fine then!" He stabbed his mashed potatoes with the plastic spoon standing. "I will handle it myself!"

"Ethan -"

"I don't want you to keep getting into trouble for me Lars. I don't . . . I don't need you to fight my battles for me. I'm not asking you to leave it alone. I'm telling you."

Looking at my best friend I knew that his heart was pounding in his chest. That he is afraid to be hit in the face and violence makes him uncomfortable but right now he was willing to take a hit.

"Fine." I replied shaking my head at his shocked face. "I'm only leaving it alone for now."

"Lars -"

I raised my hand to stop him. "I said I'm leaving it alone Ethan. Have you by any chance seen Neema?"

"She usually goes to run laps on the track." Turning to the kid with blonde hair I asked what his name was thanking him afterwards.

On my walk to the gym I tried to figure out why someone would willingly go there during lunch other than to have a quickie or a nice makeout session but Neema wasn't involved with anyone else . . . right?

Quickening my speed just a tad I walked in the gym almost freezing at the student filled room. Looking around at the unfamiliar faces, they had to underclassmen. Catching the gym teacher talking to a group of students with a clipboard I tried to blend in as much as possible with the group of girls walking around the gym floor.

Stepping into their posse I slightly focused on the girl talking about the new job at the arcade and keeping an eye on the gym teacher.

"Hey, aren't you supposed to have on your gym clothes?" The one furthest away from me said.

"Uh -"

"If I can't wear sweats when I'm on my period how the hell can you get away with wearing that? This is bullshit!"

"I'm self conscious about my legs." I replied hoping she wouldn't make my wrong attire a big deal.

"Isn't your name Lars?"

Looking to the girl in the middle of the group of five their steps slowed down. "No, I'm uh . . . Chris."

"Chris?"

"Yep."

"Not it's not." A different girl spoke up. "I know you."

"Just one of those faces I guess but hey, have any of you seen a girl come here to run on the track?"

"You mean her?" Another girl pointed to the track above us and there she was.

"Thanks."

Spotting the other staircase in the left corner I power walked in between the groups of kids throughout the gym until I was free of being caught by the gym teacher. Taking the steps two at a time I paused behind the wall needing a moment to catch my breath and gain Neema's attention at the same time.

Peeking around the wall she ran with earbuds in. Her form tight and straight as she ran through the wind. Light on her feet her left hand came up to her chin then back down as her right hand did the same.

Making her way around the track and towards me I tried to stop myself from falling face first. The look on her face was much like the one she had when I saw her during detention as she wrote. Focused.

Much like the focus she put into whatever she was writing that day was times ten by the way she was running right now. Her eyes straight ahead I could hear her paced breathing as she came closer.

There had to be a way for me to gain her attention without startling her. I could wait until she came around again and wave like a lunatic but she seemed to be lost in her own mind to even see me. Then there was always the change that she would scream and get us both kicked out the gym.

"Think Lars. Think." I mumbled to myself as she rounded the the curb again. "Think Lars. Think." I only had a few more seconds as she made her way to me. "Shit think think think. Fuck it." I stepped out of the dark corner grabbing her around the waist. Gently pushing her against the wall I immediately covered her mouth feeling her muffled scream underneath my palm.

Wide scared amber eyes looked back at me as I hushed her, "Neema it's me. Neema." I shifted us just enough so that the gym light could shine on my face before stepping back into the dark corner with her. Feeling her screams subside her breaths still came heavily. Slowly removing my hand to begin my apology for yelling at her earlier she pushed me back with a hell of a lot more force than expected.

Yanking the earbuds from her ears she pushed me again with less force, "What the hell is wrong with you? Are you out of your mind?" Raising her hands above her head she breathed in through her nose and out her mouth pacing the small area. "You almost . . . gave me a heart attack." She narrowed her eyes at me as she paced.

"I'm sorry. I was trying to get your attention without scaring you."

"So you . . . appear out of the dark . . .and slam me against the wall like some creep?" She inhaled through her nose dropping her hands from her head as she exhaled. "What's going on with you?"

"I came here to apologize."

Watching her demeanor change as the memory of me yelling as her, her shoulders fell. "Oh."

"Neema, I'm sorry that I yelled at you earlier. I was . . . dealing with some stuff mentally and I took it out on you."

Leaning back against the wall she crossed her ankles rubbing her arm. Taking in her attire that wasn't considered gym clothes either, I was speechless for a moment by her spandex and bare stomach

"I forgive you and I hope that I wasn't being pushy or anything trying to get you to open up to me."

"What are girlfriends for if they don't try to get you to open up?" I shrugged making her smile.

"True enough but I just want you to know that you can talk to me, okay?"

"Sure thing babe."

Watching Neema roll her earbuds around in her hand she nipped on the corner of her lip. "Did you uh . . . find Ethan?"

Pulling my lip ring in my mouth careful of the split skin I leaned against the wall next to her. "I did."

"Is he still doing okay? I made sure that he was okay during lunch before I went looking for you."

"You looked out for Ethan for me?"

"Yeah," she turned to me, "Ethan is a nice guy and so is Mike. I felt like it was partially my fault for how I spoke with Derrick but -"

"It's not your fault Neema."

"But -"

Lifting her chin to close her mouth I repeated my statement, "Don't blame yourself for what those assholes did, okay?" Letting my hand fall I leaned my head back on the wall closing my eyes visualizing breaking their faces. "They'll get what's coming to them."

"You have to promise you won't do anything."

"I'll make no such promise."

"Lars."

"Neema." Tuning my head to look at her I rolled over to a standing position putting my normal hand next to her head. "I told Ethan that I would let him handle it for now and I meant what I said. For now. Ethan's time will soon run out and eventually school will be over. Then you won't have to worry your pretty little head about me anymore."

Her amber eyes flicked from my green eye to my hazel eye then back again. "I just don't want anyone to get hurt."

Lowering my hand from the wall I traced the outer shell of her ear down her jaw. "Then stay out the way."

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