The tension stretching throughout the entire school couldn't have been cut with even the sharpest blade.

It'd been about a week since the incident in the snow with Chase. He'd made it very apparent that he wanted nothing to do with my brother or me outside of our project. I didn't know whether to feel offended or relieved by it, so I'd just found myself ignoring him altogether.

Jordan, seeing me shift uncomfortably now, frowned. "You feel it too, yeah?"

I nodded, ready to ask what was going on when Jordan diverted from our path down the hall to homeroom and toward a bulletin board that had previously been littered with advertisements for Winter Formal. They'd since been replaced with some sort of Suicide Prevention Seminar. On every one of the papers was Puck scribbled somewhere on it followed by a ton of profanities.

"Are you serious?" Jordan looked over at me. "They canceled the dance for this shit?

I pretended to care, but in reality I couldn't care less about the dance. I'd never been asked to one and I didn't care to stand around and be a wallflower the entire time.

"Ima go talk to the dean about this. Maybe see if we can work something out." He touched my forearm gently. "See you in homeroom, mi amor?"

I waved him off with a forced smile. He returned it before hurrying back down the hall the way we'd come, a slight bounce in every step. I knew he'd loved to be looked at as the school hero; the guy who'd changed the admin's mind and was able to bring back the dance.

Once he was out of sight, I tucked my binder under my arm and started tearing the papers lining the walls and bulletin, bawling them up before dropping them into the trash a few feet away.

"What are you doing, Harper?" a familiar voice sounded behind me, followed by an obnoxious laugh.

He was so close that I could feel his breath down the back of my neck. Digging my nails into the dark green felt of the bulletin, I looked over my shoulder.

"Wishing you knew what personal space was." I said through my teeth.

Nick didn't seem to take the hint, on contrary, he was only fueled by my response.

"Really? 'Cause it looks to me that Ronnie is actually showing she has a heart buried under all that bitchiness."

"My tiny, cold heart only beats for you, Rollins." I flipped him my favorite finger, starting to turn back to finish what I'd been doing. He caught my elbow and spun me back around. It took everything in me not to react.

"Why are you taking them down?"

I glared at him. "Because all you assholes keep beating him while he's down. It's like kicking a wounded puppy."

A sadistic look crossed through Nick's dark, dilated eyes.

"Wounded animals can't get up and take out the entire student body before succeeding at finally taking themselves out."

I shoved him hard. He was so startled by the response to his words that he actually did fall back a couple steps, staring at me in shock.

"Why can't you all just stop it with that bullshit?" My voice had finally rose above a whisper. "I promise you if he wanted to take any of you assholes out, he would have already! Just stop it with all the rumors!"

He laughed coldly, and for the first time in the entire ten years I'd known the class clown, I saw genuine fear and anger take place of the playfulness that usually followed him everywhere he went.

"You can't look me in the eye and tell me that Chase Parker doesn't scare you, Ronnie. You used to loathe him, now you feel pity. But every step he takes can mean more harm to himself or those around him. He's not fucking right up here." He shoved his index finger against his temple. "He won't ever be. Stop lying to yourself and defending his actions. He already got the dance canceled, next he'll make a threat and the entire school will be put on lockdown."

I opened my mouth to speak, but only fumbled my words. He took this as his chance to continue.

"The only reason he is walking these halls and not in some mental institution is because of Coach. He gives a shit, unlike the rest of us." Nick closed the gap between us, anger still aflame in his eyes. "You're smart enough to know he's doing all of this for more attention, Ronnie. What's going to happen when he doesn't get it?"

Realizing he'd attracted the attention of everyone in the hallway, his cheeks flushed and he turned on his heel, breaking through the crowd of peers encasing us. Shaking myself from the confrontation, I scanned my surroundings.

"What?" I snapped. "What are you all looking at?"

Whispers erupted around me as everyone started to part ways, my cue to turn and finally finish what I'd started. I ripped the last paper down and tossed it, not the least bit shocked to find my best friend when I turned around.

By the look in his eyes, I knew he had been one of my many audience members.

"Vera-" he started. I crouched down to pick up my binder, that had fallen at some point during my argument.

"Please, Jordan, I don't want to hear it." I mumbled.

He draped his arm over my shoulder and hugged me against his side. "Ok, mi amor."

Without another word, we made our way to homeroom just as the first bell sounded through the eerily quiet halls.

I sat silently on the bleachers surrounding the hockey rink. Shifting, I pulled my knees against my chest and rested my chin on them. I had spent years popping in and out of the rink during games, so loud I hadn't been able to hear myself think. Sitting here now, alone, I truly understood why silence could sometimes be deafening.

It's a possibility sometimes my thoughts are better left tucked away deep in the corner of my mind, locked and hidden from the surface. I'd nearly perfected trapping and avoiding my thoughts over the last year, but somehow I couldn't stop them from overwhelming me now.

Maybe it was the empathy I had for the depressed jock. Maybe it was the pressure and weight of everything finally slamming into me full force. All I was sure of was not being able to stand around and watch people kick Chase while he was down.

I still wasn't exactly fond of him, but I was finding myself feeling more compassion and sympathy for him than I would have ever thought possible.

"Tell me, boy!" Coach Parker's familiar shout echoed through the empty rink, richoeting off the walls behind me. "Tell me you don't miss this."

I ducked out of sight by the wall, peering through the glass for a clearer view of him. Chase stood on his left, leaning into his crutches with an exhausted look. His dark hair was a matted mess, and a new bruise had begun to form under his eye, replacing the reminiscence of the last one that'd been there only a week ago.

"Dad, I-"

"Coach." Coach Parker corrected.

Chase looked away, jaw clenched. "Coach, I'm attending physical therapy. That's all I can do."

"None of this wouldn't of happened if you didn't slip on that cliff, boy."

"I didn't slip." Chase breathed.

Coach shot his son a disapproving look. "Your mother would be disappointed in you, son. All she ever did was for you, and this is how you repay her."

I could tell, without any doubt, these words had struck a nerve in Chase. His entire body slouched forward, color draining from his face as he stared at his blurred reflection in the ice.

"Why don't you hang around your teammates and friends anymore?" Coach questioned after a few minutes of silence.

"Because I'm a worthless piece of shit, Dad. I get it." Chase looked his father in the eye. "I'm going to grab my stuff from my locker."

As if it were an indirect way of telling him to leave, Coach Parker nodded curtly and turned his back to us and slipped out the door. Chase stood within the confinement of the rink for a second, then bowed his head a fraction.

"If you're going to hide in here, you might not want to leave your backpack in plain sight, Harper." he said quietly. Because the rink was so quiet, his voice echoed.

I stood slowly, stepping off the bleachers and plucking my backpack from the floor at his feet. He lifted his head and stared at me, his strange eyes distant.

"Chase-" I started.

He shook his head. "Please don't."

There was so much I wanted to say in that moment, but didn't.

The entire school had spent the last five years idolizing Coach Parker. He'd led the team to every win, and even to the playoffs. I'd even fallen victim to it after a few games myself.

The scene that had just broke out in front of me gave me a new perspective, a look at Chase's life through his eyes.

"''I don't know what your agenda is, Harper, but you need to just stay the fuck away." Chase spoke quietly, but the acoustics in the arena sounded as if he'd yelled it at the top of his lungs. "What you did in the hallway, that shit needs to stop. I can go down for this shit, all of this was a decision I made and I'm living with the consequences of my actions. But, for the love of God, stop playing bodyguard."

"Playing bodyguard?" I couldn't help but be irritated by his words. "I am tired of your shit to, Chase. I always resented you, the life you lived. What you were and what you stood for. You had everything. Friends, the girl, the Dad who supported him from the sidelines every game, even coached him for Godsake."

I sat on the bleachers before I went on.

"Then you threw it all away. You tried to end it all. Over what? For what?" I met his eyes. "Nobody knows the reasons behind what you did, and I sure as hell don't know why the hell I'm defending you, but I don't see that boy anymore, Chase."

"That was a big ramble of nothing." He muttered.

"You aren't Puck anymore, or at least the puck I spent years hating. Sadly, it took you almost dying for me to see the poor, broken kid underneath, but he's there. And even if nobody else in this school sees him, I do." He averted his eyes. "I saw the way your dad talked to you to. There's no doubt in my mind he had something to do with your decision. And those burns and bruises that just magically appear on your face."

"Veronica, just stop." Chase pleaded. "Just go back to hating me. Stop being so invested and interested in my life and protecting me .l I can fend for myself.

"Clearly you can't. And trust, Chase, that I want with every bone in my body to hate you, but I can't."

"Why? Why is it so hard?'

I pointed accusingly at him. "I know that's what would be easiest for you. To think that every single person in this fucking world would be better off without you. That your nothing but some lonely little pathetic kid with Daddy issues that nobody will ever love. And if that's what you want to think, what you want to continue thinking, then do it. If that's what helps aids you in your next attempt, then think that way. Be a selfish prick. Don't think about who you're affecting when you make that decision."

"This." He said, gesturing around himself. "This, the aftermath of my attempt proved it, Ronnie. Nobody gives a fuck about me. They love Puck, the popular kid, the jock, the star hockey player. Nobody cares about Chase. The second they saw that jock, that star hockey player completely fall apart they alienated him and cast him aside, like he had meant absolutely nothing to them in the first place."

He wasn't wrong. It had never been Chase himself that my little brother idolized, but Puck.

"See, you just don't understand, do you, Chase?" I stood, throwing my backpack over my shoulder. "You'll never understand because you're too fucking selfish to see anything outside yourself."

"Understand what, Veronica?"

"That I care, Chase. I don't care about Puck, hell I still resent that prick." I started to back away, offering a wry smile. "But I do care about Chase Parker and hope at the end of the day he learns to love himself again."

****AN****

*Unedited*

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