Chapter Five:

Luke: Are you going to come down and eat breakfast with your loving family or continue to be rude and ignore us?

My phone vibrates on my desk in front of me, the message mocking me as I glance down. Pausing my doodling for a second, I contemplate on whether I should send a really sweet, witty message back or just give him the plain, dead expected silence. I stare down at the drawings on my paper—small, purple flowers, each with six petals—that I spent two hours working on. Since I'd woken up at 5:30 this morning and struggled to go back to sleep, drawing was something to pass the time.

Opting for the latter, I throw my phone across the room, and my bed catches it. I return to my doodles. I'm half-dressed for school, half still in my pyjamas. The bottom part of me is covered with my black school trousers and the top part of my body is still in my lavender polka-dotted night shirt. Five minutes seem to fly by, there's a knock at my door. Whoever knocked doesn't wait for me to open it, they shove the door open two seconds later. I circle around in my spinny chair to see Luke standing against the door frame with a plate in his hand.

"Mum says you have to eat. If you aren't eating because we're down there, then she's made it that much easier for you. See, she got me to bring up food for you," he lifts up the plate, showing me.

I take a deep breath in and nod.

He walks over to me and shifts some of the books and pencils from the wooden desk, making room for the food. When he puts it in front of me, I see what she has made me: mixed colourful fruits nicely cut and placed around a croissant on the ceramic plate. The fruits are arranged so the small pieces of grapes first circle the warm croissant, followed by the circular shape of red strawberries, and lastly, the bright green kiwi. I take one of the strawberry slices and pop it in my mouth. Strawberries are one of my favourite fruits. The tangy sweetness overpowers my lips.

I look back and acknowledge that Luke is still standing behind me, and he's staring at me. He's messing with his dark hair, running his fingers through it and has taken off his grey beanie to inspect it. He does it often when he's bored out of his mind and wants distraction, or when he's worried about something and needs something to mess with in his hands. His eyes move to me and he hurriedly puts his hat back on and readjusts his red T-shirt, the one that has the word 'Devil' stamped on it. He squeezes my shoulders, giving me an apologetic sad sort of smile.

He sighs deeply, "JJ. Please. . ."

I look down at the floor, staring at the round, purple paint stain on my carpet. I'm unable to look up. Meeting his eyes, which are most likely filled with guilt and regret, is something I don't want to see.

"Please. I'm really sorry about this. This is going to be so hard on you."

I still don't look up to meet his blue eyes

"I know, but trust me, I won't let anything happen to you. I know you're scared, but I'm here for you. Always. You can kick me out later, but first, you've gotta listen to me." He briefly pauses again before he crouches down and examines my face. He does that for a while.

I really need him to leave. I need to be left by myself. Why can't you guys understand that?

"I'm not scared, Luke. How can I be scared of something that'll be with me for the rest of my life? I'm not scared, I'm terrified."

Is what I want to reply back to him with.

"You know, as little ones, we were like cat and dog, day and night, toothpaste and lemonade. I was always picking on you and making fun of you, and you were always miserable," he takes a short pause, "and sad because of it. And I enjoyed it when I pissed you off royally. Ethan was your favourite because he stood up for you when I was being a little shit to you, and he sorted me out because I needed it and deserved a kick to the ass. We all know this 'cause it's definitely no secret I never liked you when we were kids, but that day we found out what happened at the community centre, what I saw at the hospital. Oh god--" the loud vibration of my phone is what stops him from talking any further.

I get up and take it from my bed and discover the two new texts on it.

Mum: Make sure you eat everything the boys made you for you. I mean it, Jessica. I'll find out. I'm not sure if I'll be back by normal time, but I'll try my best. There's a lot of packing to do here.

Mum: Love you sweetheart. Take care of yourself today and try not to be so upset. I know you have every right to be, but still don't be too upset. It's not good for you. Get your brother to take you out for ice cream.

I stare at my phone without giving her any reply. What's going on is selfish, and what she is making me do is selfish, as well. Packing up and leaving just like that? Without a good enough reason to. We live in a perfectly good house. It is not like it's been burned down or it has been flooded with our unpredictable weather. Doesn't she care that her children grew up in this area and what a struggle it will be to adjust to a new place? We might have gone there a couple of times a year to visit family and enjoy the nice area, but that doesn't mean that we should live there - and leave everything behind.

She can't expect me to be okay after just a day. Okay, it wasn't a day, maybe a few, but still. Let me feel how I feel. I can't control anything anymore. Ugh. It's so frustrating.

Luke glances at my phone screen, then back at me. I smirk halfheartedly. I'm upset with them, yes, but they are all trying so hard. I nod my head once, and Luke chuckles in relief.

"Does this mean I'm forgiven?" His face lights up.

I wordlessly stare at him, shaking my head to and frown. I mouth, "not yet," and continue to look at him.

"I'll take it," he laughs, adjusting his hat, "I'm going to my room to get dressed. Enjoy your breakfast."

I give him a thumbs up, stuffing another strawberry halved in my mouth. Since yesterday, I have been dreading school and the people I'll see, but I keep reminding myself that I won't have to worry about that soon. It'll be a new school with new people to dread. I'm not sure which is worse. I scoff because that's a lie. I know which is worse.

Deeply sighing, I eat a few more bites of my breakfast before standing from my desk once again and start getting ready for school again. I glance down at my school uniform, the one I'd scrubbed my lunch from the previous day off of, and I'm thrown back into that awful memory. The lunchroom. The cupboard. The laughter coming from the other side. The darkness. The suffocation.

*****

Drake had saved me from being trapped in that cupboard for the entire day yesterday. The feeling when he opened that door was immense. The way the light had shot into the pitch black room so suddenly. The realization that I wasn't alone anymore. It was so relieving. The darkness had felt very small. It felt permanent. My inability to call for help brought out the deepest bouts of anxiety in my body. I'd wondered if anyone would ever find me. But then I saw him, and my chest didn't feel heavy anymore. My fears were diminished. When his form met my eyes, I physically sighed a breath of relief. His reddish-brown hair came to view, and the first thing I noticed was that it looked like he ran one too many fingers through it. His facial expressions resembled peace once he saw me, but not not for long. Once he helped me off the ground, and we got out of there, his face had hardened and switched to resemble anger and injustice.

"Who did this?" His eyebrows scrunched with frustration. I could hear the unmistakable anger in his tone. "Who in the hell did this, and why were you in there in the first place?"

I didn't respond in any way as we walked ahead, rounding into the corridor. Where were we walking to? Did we even have a destination? I didn't know. I was just thankful to be out of that situation, and I was glad he was the one who'd found me. When I didn't do anything as a response to his questions, he immediately stopped walking, causing me to look up at him in confusion.

"What's wrong?" I mouthed.

"Tell me who it was and right this second I will go to their soon to be very sorry ass." he promised. He stared hard at me for a second. Then looked down, and again, his gaze came back, lingering around me. I don't blame him. I was a plate, covered in food.

"You don't have your bag on you. Do you have your phone in your pocket?"

I pat my hoodie pocket to feel if it's there. No, it's in my bag that I foolishly left in the cafeteria when I left to get the stuff to clean the floor from the caretakers cupboard. I shake my head at him no.

"Did they take it?" He asked as he was taking his own phone out of his pocket. He was about to call Luke and tell him that. "They took your stuff?"

Swiftly taking his Samsung off him as he unlocked it, I typed in the memo section and erased it afterwards.

Relax D. No one took my phone. I left it in the lunch hall.

"Why?"

Because I dropped food on the floor and then Simon came and made me clean it up. I left my bag thinking I'd get it when I finish cleaning.

I gave him his phone back.

"Do you want me to take you home to change? I'm supposed to be doing revision for the rest of the year, and Sammy is in that class, so I can tell him to tell the teacher I'm in the medical room, throwing up or something. Or I could tell a teacher to talk to your Mum about it." He offered. "Yeah that's it, let's get you cleaned up," he decided for himself without me telling him. Knowing himself that the teachers can't do anything.

I shook my head side to side. I couldn't let him take me home. He's got stuff going on. With his grandpa staying at his house for the next few months. Last week, his senile grandpa Tim, set his kitchen on fire, forgetting to take foil off his chicken wrap when he put in the microwave to reheat. It didn't aid him that he completely forgot that he put something in the microwave. Next thing you know, he's returned from the back garden, and finds half of his kitchen is set ablaze.

I didn't want him getting in trouble because of me. I just wanted to forget about the whole ordeal and just try to survive the rest of the day. I took his phone back and wrote:

Don't worry about it. I can wear my P.E kit. It's in my locker. First let me get my bag.

He responded with, "I have Luke's jacket in mine. You can wear that, too."

I agreed and told him to go to revision, but he didn't want to do that. He said he would rather help me get cleaned up. My bag was right where I left it, surrounded by the mess that Seth made me do. Drake stared down at the floor quietly. But that's kind of how he is naturally. Quiet, reserved and antisocial but kind and caring. Not shy and introverted but he just likes minding his own business. Plain and simple. Well, unless someone he cares about is in trouble.

"Are you sure that no one's done anything?" He mumbled, still looking down at my mess. I nodded, picking up my bag off the ground and started in the direction of my locker. "Where are you going?" he called out after me. I pulled my phone out of my bag. Thankfully, nothing had been taken from it.

Me: Going to your locker and mine. I need to change. Meet me outside the girls toilets in Reception. Give me the jacket then.

"Okay, well if you need me to call your brother, let me know."

No, thank you very much. I'd rather not look at that slimy toad right now.

I left without saying anything back to him.

*****

My face. My stupid, stupid face is plastered on the front page of the damn school newspaper. It's a photo of me from yesterday, and this photo had been captured just after I'd fallen. In it, I'm kneeling on the ground with cafeteria food splattered all over the front of my brand new hoodie. Humiliated and embarrassed when I find the photo, my eyes scan over the headline. I can feel my face burning in frustration, embarrassment, sadness all at once. It reads:

"DON'T BE FOOLED BY THE MUTE GIRL — HOW I KNOW SHE IS FAKING IT."

How was this approved? Can people write whatever they want to in these things? Are the teachers in on it? Ugh!

What do these people gain from doing these awful, shitty things to me? I don't know. Actually, I do. They gain the satisfaction of making me feel like I'm nothing. They strive over getting any sort of negative reaction out of me. Making me feel hurt and sad and angry and worthless. They want to remind me that they have power over me. Over my emotions. Over my actions. My insecurities. My life. People like them are a reminder. They want me to remember they have something I do not. A voice. They can make themselves heard, and be loud and very clear about it, too, while I'm stuck in silence.

I glance at the upper right corner of the black-and-white newspaper and read:

Article written by Violet Richards.

Of course it was her. I hear an all-too-familiar annoying and obnoxious cackle, and I snap up, eyes full of rage. Violet is less than five feet ahead of me. Her lipstick-coated lips are stretched into a giant, carefree smile, and she is roaring with laughter. Laughing at me. Mocking me. I open my mouth as hundreds of not-so-nice words come to my mind, but not even the slightest sound leaves my lips.

"What? Are you trying to say something?" Violet places her hand next to her ear. "Go ahead, I'm listening."

From the corner of my eye, I see them coming up to me. Sam and Drake with Emma not too far behind. I feel one of them grab my elbow and steer me backward. Everyone surrounding us in the hallway has stopped to watch. Violet grabbed their short attention spans. I'm sure they're all hoping this will be that final straw. This will finally break me. This will get the mute girl to finally utter a word, and boy, do I wish they were correct. I wish I could say what is on my mind to each and every one of these people, but not a single sound comes from my vocals. I try and try to no avail.

Violet, along with over half of the hallway's population, chortle louder and louder as they see my struggle. My friends circle me, cocooning me and shouting obscenities at Violet. The same obscenities I wish I could be shouting. Sam grabs a handful of the papers and tears them to shreds in front of Violet's face, and she only laughs harder. She sounds like a diseased, mangy hyena. For a second, I think Emma is squaring up to punch her in the face, but Sam and Drake push us back, leaving the crowd. The three of them pull me away from the sea of cruel morons, leaving Violet to drown.

We all come to a sudden halt when an intense, feminine squeal echoes off the walls of the hallway. My mind instantly assumes the worst—it sounds like a girl is being attacked—but then I see Jason. He is standing ankle deep in stuffed tarantulas just beside his locker. His face is twisted into a horrified expression and his hands are curled and pressed against each of his cheeks like he's having a mental breakdown. There's a single spider that's on top of his black curly head.

"Did... that sound... come out of you?" Emma asks him, her lips squeeze inwards.

Jason glares at her, carefully tiptoeing out of the crawlies.

"Hey, Jason. Looks like there's something on your head," Drake calls out between small chuckles.

Jason slowly reaches up and as soon as his fingertips trace the furry legs of the spider, he shrieks at the top of his lungs again.

"Get it off! Get it off!" He squeals like a hyena as he jumps around in the hallway.

My anger slips down the drain, and it becomes impossible not to smile as all my friends are now the ones erupting in laughter. For once, the attention is stolen away from me, and for a moment, everyone around us forgets about the newspaper. Instead of me, they are targeting a stupid, "cool" kid for a change.

I see my brother leaning against the wall behind Jason. His arms are folded over his chest, he's wearing a sinister grin, and he looks rather accomplished. I realise quickly that Luke is the one to be held responsible for this. My stupid, brilliant, prankster brother.

It hits me then and there—I really love my brother. If he'd go to these lengths just to make me feel a little better, to give my bullies a short taste of their own medicine, it shows he feels the same. I can't really be angry with him anymore. Or can I? I'm unsure.

I just don't know.

*****
AUTHORS NOTE

Hi! I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Let me know your thoughts.

Moving day is very soon for the Graye's.

I'm sorry for not updating the last two weeks. I've just been going some stuff in my personal life.

Do you like spiders?

I HATE them! I hate all insects and flappy things. The closer they get the more scared I get.

Well all except butterflies. Butterflies are so pretty! 🦋

See you next week for another chapter!

Sapphire xo

Here's a cupcake for reading!