Twenty-two Slut

         The art hall was bustling with activity and never seen before excitement, students laughed together in unions. The usual shunned out artists, wondering in their own nonexistent worlds were now fidgeting with their batches and making last minute amendments to the stands on which their masterpieces lay.

         I stood in the back corner of the hall, the glorious afternoon sun bathing me and my painting in a warm glow. The painting I had picked for the exhibition, against Mrs. Clark's suggestion, was Devlin's eyes. The canvas bare white, only two pair of eyes stared out it.

         Oliver was standing few rows ahead of mine with his painting of a girl sobbing into her hands. I noted, enviously, he was in his best clothes today, unlike me in my usual pair of jeans and hoodie; he was dressed in perfectly ironed white shirt and cream colored trousers. He secretly looked my way.  For a brief second, I saw his lips curl into the faintest of smiles.

        I gave him a menacing glare. If he thinks, he's going to be forgiven for all he said then he has got the wrong idea. I will never forgive him, never. He was my friends, the closest to my heart. There used to be a time when even words weren't needed to convey what the other felt. Now it was like we were on two different planets, where even words can't makes us understand each other.

       A heavy weight dropped to the pit of my stomach. Why? Oliver, why did you do this?

     I looked away and surveyed all the other paintings in hall. Everyone had put up their best sleeve today, hoping to catch the eye of potential buyers. It's been the same every year; all students put their painting and sell them for a fair share of money. I was selling Devlin's painting because I couldn't keep it. It keeps making me love him with a more devastating intensity.

       Sodden sneakers squeaked, breaking my reverie. It was Oliver; there was an abashed expression on his face. The tousled mess of dirty blond hair was combed to one side of his head.

      "Alice," He said in a low voice. His stormy eyes watched me, warmheartedly, the same he used look at me when we used to be friends. Warmed surged through my chest, all of the sudden I felt giddy.

      No, please, don't trust him again. He could hurt you again, Alice.

      I gulped, swallowing the lump of happiness that had just formed in my throat. "What is it?" I snapped.

He winced. "I'm sorry,"

            "You're not," I barked back, curling my hands around my arms. "You think it's my fault. You think I choose to be this miserable brat. My mother died right in front of my eyes, Oliver. Do you seriously think it's my fault I turned out this way?"

            "You're reacting the way I thought you would. That's why I don't talk to you anymore."

            Bitterness entered my mouth. He was expecting this: for me to react negatively.

            "Save yourself the trouble and don't,"

"I want my friend back and you're not stopping me,"

            "You don't want her back. She embarrasses you,"

      "Like I said, I'm sorry for that. I was being a jerk. But for one moment, can you just stop expecting the world to pity you? You have to stand up for yourself, Alice" My name almost sounded like acid on his tongue.

            "Pity?" I felt my eyes widen. "Because I don't laugh as often I used to, doesn't mean I want the world to pity me. People change, Oliver. Sometimes they can't go back to who they were in the past"

            Oliver heaved an ached sigh. Apparently, he didn't agree with me. The blue in his eyes became slightly lighter. He blinked, once and twice, searching for the right words to say but they seemed to have failed him tremendously.

            Giving up on all attempts, he grabbed hand, firmly and took me towards his painting. Students stared, some whispered amongst themselves, their chins jutting in our direction. I could see Beatrice's fellow 'friends' as their lips thinned to show disapproval. This news will probably be ringing in Beatrice's ears by tomorrow.

            "Oooh! Olivar, better watch out! You don't want to be caught with me," He stopped in front his painting, briefly glancing over his shoulder to look at Beatrice's friends.

            "Found someone else," He replied, testily. "Don't care about her anymore,"

Wonder who the new girl was? I suppressed my curiosity with an overly sugary grin.  "Already?" I quirked an eyebrow, heavily amused. He scowled, obviously not amused. "What? Did she dump you into that trash outside school grounds," I pointed a finger towards the window.

            "No, I came to my senses,"

"Nice to see you still have some left,"

            "Snarky, huh?"  He smiled, solemnly- almost nostalgically. "My best-friend is still in there, isn't she?"

            I averted my gaze to hide my smile. It felt good, even though for the smallest amount of time, to be on friendlier terms with Oliver. My happiness dampened when I realized it won't be for long.

            "This is what you became when Mrs. Brown died," Oliver breathed out, staring hard at the painting. A girl, her brown hair mangled in all different directions, had her face buried into her hands. The scarlet dress she wore was slipping over her shoulders. She sat in a field of grass, her lap stained with teardrops. There were red marks on her arms; she had been hurting herself, wanting to kill that guilt pulling her under.

            The painting brought too many memories. It was dark yet bright at the same time. It made my stomach lurch forward. My chest felt heavier than before.

            "She just stopped living. The girl who taught an idiot like me to laugh freely had stopped living. I was scared. Okay? My best friend was a mess and I couldn't do anything. I was scared that I would collapse with her."

            "But you didn't," I added, my fist clenched together. "Because you abandoned her,"

"Alice, it was scary. I didn't want to go down with you. I was popular then and the newly selected member for the school swim team. I was in the honor roll society and in the national junior league for artists. I had everything except one thing,"

            My breathing was rapid and uneven from anger. In a way, I understood Oliver yet I didn't want to. How could he do this to me? Friends are supposed to be with you even in your worst times.

            "You," He finally whispered. "I didn't have anyone to share this with. Yes, I had other people around me but I wanted to share my achievements with you. I wanted to see you cheer me from the sidelines when I went for the interstate swim competition. I wanted you to be the first one to hold my trophy. I wanted you to be the first one I could call late at night. I wanted to you to sit with me when we worked on homework. I wanted you to be one with whom I could talk about the new anime series. But I no longer could..." At this moment, his eyes were glistening under the bright lights.

            "You were so far from me. Whenever I tried to talk to you, you'd act like I was a total stranger. I realized that I lost you until recently... you started changing again. You were behaving more like yourself. Hope sparked inside me and... I'm sorry, Alice. I know sorry can't lessen what I've done. I want you back. Please, can we be friends like we used? I miss you,"

            "It took you four years to say this," I croaked, rubbing my eyes with the back of my hand.

 "Boys, argh!" I laughed in between tears. "You guys take so long to figure things out,"

I punched his shoulder. "I swear if you do that to me again. I will kill you and I mean it. Oliver Stale, I will rip each and every bone out of your body,"

            "Does that mean I'm forgiven?" He asked tentatively, a smile threatening to break loose.

I nodded my head vigorously, sending strands of hair flying out of my bun.

            The biggest and most happiest grin broke out on Oliver's face. He leapt into the air. "Whoo-hoo!" He yelled on top of his lungs.

            Everyone, by everyone I mean every single living being in the hall, was staring at us. The peculiar looks on their faces didn't faze Oliver for a second. He grabbed my shoulder and pulled me into the most bone-crushing and heart melting hug any human being could manage.

            Our hug was broken by the booming voice of Mrs. Clark. "Students take your places! Our sponsors and guest are about to arrive,"

            "Thank you so much, Alice, thank you!" Oliver spoke, breathlessly, his grin growing wider.

I simply smiled before scuttling away to my spot. Mrs. Clark was pacing about the entrance of the hall, her usual playful demeanor fading away. She was sporting a patched up, black coat and khaki pants. A paint brush was stuck behind her ear.

            There was a ceremonious toll of the ancient, wall clock. At once, guest began filling the hall. My heart began picking up its pace. I never felt so anxious. It's a scary feeling to have your work to for others to judge and stare at.

            Some of the guests were dressed in casual attires while others were dressed in tight fitted suits, who possibly could be talent scouts for art universities. A familiar face entered along the wave of others, the figure stood out in its own segregated space, as though she thought she was superior to the rest. It didn't take me a second to recognize the woman in the huddle of strangers, something about her made her hard to forget. I suppressed a fearful shiver that was about to escape my spine.

Sarah Hutchins, Devlin's elder sister, had just stepped inside the hall. She was a wearing a regal, navy blue blazer and tight, black jeans. Even though, she was dressed for a causal occasion, the foreboding aura of prominence still swept around her like a magnificent ocean wave.

 She had something to Mrs. Clark which had caused Mrs. Clark's plump cheek turn the brightest shade of red. I couldn't tell if it were from anger or embarrassment. Whatever it was, Mrs. Clark didn't look pleased but she didn't say so and gave her a polite smile instead.

Sarah strode through the place like she owned it. Carelessly, she walked between the rows of displays, not bothering to reply to the eager smiles the students were giving her.

I angled my face away from where she was standing; desperately praying that she wouldn't see me here.  

Few visitors came up to my painting and asked me brief questions about it like: did this pair of eyes belong to anyone, what kind of paints I had used, was there a story behind the painting and many more as such.

A question of my own began irritating me. What was Sarah doing here? She doesn't strike me as the type who would be wondering at a high-school art exhibition. Ignoring the pangs of annoyance that sprung inside me, I focused on my current visitor.

A middle-aged man tapped his chin, thoughtfully. He was wearing red suspenders and a large bomber jacket. After a moment, he scrunched up his mustache which quivered over his upper lip.

"It'zz a vary ze simple painting," He spoke in a thick French accent. I had to strain my ears to understand him. "All ze otherz have vary complex and beautiful paintingz,"

"Well, isn't simplicity beauty? Sometime white can be more beautiful than all the other colors combined because it lets them shine and bathe in glory while it vanishes into nothingness. The white canvas here lets the eyes shine through. The colors become clearer against white..." When I saw the man give me a frazzled look, I trailed into an awkward jumble of words. "That's ....err... what I believe,"

"Awe-striking thinking," An elderly man with greying hair, stood beside the French man. He was dressed in gym clothes and had a rather relaxed smile on his face. He looked like the type of person who spends their Sundays on the coach, eating fries. 'Quite rare to see a young woman with such high ideas,"

The French man shook his head, muttering under his breath. "Zis is insane. Ze have uh horror-e-ble taste in zis art," He walked away, stiffly.

"Beauregard" The man in joggers whose relaxed smile had vanished into a frown, glared after the French man. "Someone needs to knock manners into his fat brain." He smiled at me. "Oh, you don't listen to a thing likes of him say. I tell you, you've got some serious talent. Keep up that good skill shinning,"

"I will, thank you sir,"

"Ah." The man waved his hand. "Don't call me sir, makes feel old prat and not to mention plain and boring." He stifled a cringe. "So call me Abelard, will you? And that was my lovely, younger brother, Beauregard who seriously needs to think out of the box," He laughed merrily. I laughed with him.

            "See you around," His eyes, surrounded with wrinkles, squinted down at my name tag pinned to my hoodie. "Alice. Lovely name," He winked at me before heading to the other tables.

            As soon as he left, the moment I had been dreading arrived. Sarah was smirking at me, her arms neatly folded across her chest. "So, so we meet once again. What a pleasant coincidence?"

            "Coincidence," I scoffed.

She gave me a scathing glare, her eyebrows perched higher than usual. "So you think I'm here for you. That's quite narcissistic if you ask me, darling." She dragged the last word.

            "I never said such a thing," It was my turn to smirk.

"Very well, doesn't do me any harm to tell you why I'm here. I must admit you're a part of the reason," She shifted her blue piercing eyes to stare at my painting. "You're better than I expected,"

            I couldn't tell if she was talking about my painting or something else.

            "I've heard you've met Bre," She smiled, sweetly whilst running her nail along the canvas's edge. To onlookers, it would have looked like we were having a friendly chat. "Warned you about my brother, didn't she?"

            I couldn't find the voice to speak in. In the end, I resorted to stare at her with my eyes narrowed and to see where she was headed with this.

            She continued talking as though I had replied. "It was the right thing to do. I guess my cousin took a liking to you. What surprises me is that you didn't run away? Not that you have a place to go but still you should have left him,"

            "Why?" My voice icily stiff. "Why should I leave him?"

She clicked her tongue, as though I were five year old child who was misbehaving. "I only have your best interest at heart and so does my brother. If he found out, you're harboring feelings for him. I can't imagine what he might to do,"

I furrowed my eyebrows together. "He already knows that. He stood up for us against Mr. Hutchins. He ki-" I didn't completed my sentence, feeling heat rush to my face and drown my cheeks in a dark shade of pink. He had kissed me. Of course, I wasn't going to tell Sarah that.

"Kissed you? Do you even how many girls my brother has kissed before you?" She laughed, mockingly then shook her head at my immaturity. My heart slowly began falling to the pit of my stomach.

"He went against Mr. Hutchins-"I stood firm on my ground. I wasn't going to let Sarah put me down so easily.

"He told me that he stood up for your friendship. He doesn't think of you more than a friend,"

I felt at loss of words. I opened and closed my mouth repeatedly. It felt like someone had slapped me straight across the face. My cheeks burned with embarrassment at my own foolishness. Friend? Friends don't kiss each other, do they?

"It isn't like he and dad are particularly on the same boat either.  Picking a fight with dad probably wasn't a big deal for Devlin. He's done it countless times before-"

"Why are you telling me of all this? Why do you care what I think of Devlin?" I cut her out. None of this was making any sense. "As of a matter of fact, what happens between Devlin and me isn't your business,"

Sarah coolly shrugged her shoulders and retracted her hand from the canvas. "Looking out for my brother, that's all. He's too soft-hearted for his own good. Probably blame himself if you had your heart broken because you mistook his kindness for love," The cruelty of her words hit home. I found myself laboring to keep my breathing under control.

"Point noted. You can leave me alone now,"

Her eyes flashed like ice under broad daylight.

"Wonderful," She smiled. With that she left me struggling to hold up and keep strong. I felt more confused and agitated than I ever had. What in the world is going on?

I groaned into my hands. Oliver shot me a puzzled look. "Everything al 'right?" he mouthed.

Nodding, I smiled the widest smile I could manage. He didn't look convinced but didn't bug me about it either.

△▼△▼△

I was greeted by an empty apartment when I arrived home. Messaging my forehead, I collapsed onto the orange, floral sofa. The cushions sunk underneath me while my bag landed on the floor with a soft thud. Devlin was still out. That gave me plenty of time to think about all that happened today.

I was having a hard coping with all that Sarah had said. This makes her fourth person to warm me against Devlin: first Oliver, then Dad, Bre and the latest addition, Sarah. For once, I want to make my decisions without having people remind what is right and what is wrong. It's not that I completely (and stupidly) trust Devlin. I would be an idiot if I did after so many people telling me he's not the 'right' type of guy.

My heart, on the other hand, doesn't agree with me. It's just hard to believe that Devlin would actually try to hurt me when he's done so many things for me. He risked his career for my sake by giving me unprescribed glucose injections. Why would he do that if he didn't have any feeling for me?

It's official. I'm going insane.

My phone began ringing uncontrollably. I pried it out of my back pocket and pressed it against my ear.

            "Ello?" I breathed out.

A frantic voice greeted me from the other. "Alice, I want to see you right now!" It was Liza and she sounded like her hair had caught on fire.

I sat up a bit straighter. "What is it? Everything okay at home? Is dad okay?"

"Yah, everything is okay. I'm coming over to your place. Give me your address." She spoke in a hurried rush.

There is no way Liza is coming here. She'll probably ask questions that I won't be able to answer. I quickly made a hasty cover up. "Let's meet at our favorite dinner-"

"No, tell me your address or I'll ask Devlin."

I froze in my spot. My grip on the phone loosened slightly. I could feel my eyes bulge out of their sockets. "Dev-Devlin? How to do you know about him?" Has Dad already told her about him?

"I'll explain when I get there," Her voice sounded strict, almost like mom when she got angry at me. "Address?"

"I'll message it to you," I mumbled in a daze. This can't be good.

△▼△▼△

Fifteen minutes later, there was a loud knock on the door. I didn't need to open the door to guess who stood on the other side. I walked towards it, trying to delay it as much as I could but the knocking grew more frantic and urgent.

I sighed in defeat and yanked the door open. Liza was still in her cheer uniform. Her hair blonde hair had been tied into a tight pony-tail. I didn't dare to meet her furious green-eyes.

I stepped aside and let her come inside, silently closing the door behind her.

"I can't believe you would do this," She screeched like a strangled cat caught between two stray dogs.

"I was going to tell you," I spoke, earnestly. Liza gave me a disbelieving look. "I was trying to find the right time,"

"You weren't going to tell me. Admit it."

"Please Liza, don't act like this..." I gripped her shoulders... "I'm sorry dad had to be the one to tell you about –"

"Dad? He didn't tell me anything. Devlin came home today. He was there for several hours, talking to dad." Liza watched with me carefully, weighing my stumped expression. "Didn't he tell you that he was coming to our place?"

He did say that he would fix everything between me and my dad. I guess he was just fulfilling the promise he made but I didn't think he would go talk to my dad about everything. Why am I so surprised?

"Yah, he promised me would talk to dad," I tried to conceal my astonishment. It was of no use though; Liza could read me like an open book. She frowned.

"I kind of eavesdropped on them. I mean I didn't know who he was. He just randomly arrived at our doorsteps, wearing scrubs. I got worried that he was here to check up on dad or something but he wasn't. They were talking about some business deals. Then he mentioned your name. He looked really worried and apologetic. When he was about to leave, dad introduced me to him and told me you were staying at his place,"

"Really? Was dad angry at him?"

"Was he supposed to be?" She asked, confused.

            "I guess not,"

"Are you dating him?" Liza suddenly blurt out, looking really flustered.

            "No," I muttered and looked away. The air between us had become thick with tension.

            "He's really old... I mean...not old, old... you get what I mean. Don't you?"

"Yes," I stated firmly. "He's older than me but that shouldn't make a difference. We're just friends,"

            Liza began twiddling with the hem of her dress before meeting my gaze. "I dunno, sis. I just find it strange. Why is he helping you? You barely know each other. It doesn't make sense unless he wants something from you,"

            "What can he want from me?"

She raised her eyebrows slightly, her lips puckered together. "You're really innocent. You don't what men want..." She trailed off into silence.

            It felt as though the roles had been reversed. She was the older sister and I was the younger one. Wasn't it always like this? I was always the idiot and she was always the know-it-all.

            I laughed a manic laugh which didn't sound like me at all. "You ...(gasp)...think " I spoke in between breaths. "You... think (gasp)... he wants...(gasp) ....sex."

            She didn't seem amused. She looked rather sad. Was it pity I saw lurking beneath her eyes?  "Yes. If you had any self-respect, Alice, you'd get the hell out of here,"

            "Liza. You've got the wrong idea" I reached out to hold her shoulders. She backed away, disgusted.

"I'VE HAD ENOUGH! Seriously, I'm tired of playing mom. For once, can you step up to the plate? It's always me who has to fix your mistakes. WHY DON'T YOU GET IT? WHATEVER HAPPENED IN THE PAST WASN'T YOUR FAULT. IT WAS A MISTAKE. WHY CAN'T YOU LET IT GO!"

            My mouth fell open, stunned.

            "DAD CALLED YOU A SLUT AFTER DEVLIN LEFT. HE BLAMED MOM FOR MAKING US THIS WAY. HE THINKS I'M GOING TO END UP LIKE YOU. WHY DO I HAVE TO SUFFER BECAUSE YOU DON'T LIVE UP TO HIS EXPECATIONS?"

            Liza was breathing hard. Sweat trickled down her forehead and traveled along the side of her face.  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Devlin standing there, a stethoscope dangling from his hand. He wore a grim expression, his lips pressed together.

"Good-bye," Liza briskly stated, unfazed by Devlin's presence. She walked past him, her eyes narrowed menacingly at him then she turned away and slammed the door shut.

            Different emotions collided fiercely against me, leaving me feeling all too weary. I didn't have the strength to face Devlin. I didn't have the strength face myself either.

            "Sorry you had to see that," I whispered, heading for the door.

I was about to reach for the door knob when he grabbed my hand. "Where are you going?"

            "Not now...please Devlin" The lump in my throat made it hard to talk.

He let go of my hand, allowing me to rush out of his apartment. The thoughts in my mind were ringing so loudly that I couldn't hear anything else. All I could hear was Liza voice calling me a slut.

△▼△▼△

Note: Late update but a long one. SORRY! I really mean it but I've just moved to a new country (again) and I'm having a hard time getting used to it. The next update will arrive pretty soon. It's going to an exciting one(well, at least according to me) ;)

Beautiful song and picture on the right.

Please do comment. :)