QUOTE OF THE CHAPTER:

"Emotions are not that hard to borrow, when love is the word you have never learnt."

– Avril Lavigne, Give You What You Like

Dedication: @anvtomy (Ally is one of the sweetest girls I've ever met and her enthusiasm over this story makes me fangirl)

***

CHAPTER FIVE

"Jacqueline, I'm home!" Mum shoots from downstairs as I observe myself in the mirror. I made a face mask that I found in one of mother's drawers and I look totally white as planned. I smile victoriously at my reflection, making a messy bun.

"I'm coming," I yell back, checking myself once again and making sure I look convincingly normal. It's probably the first time I've ever made a face mask but still, there is a beginning of everything, right? Also, Mum would never know if I said it's a routine for me. She doesn't know anything about me.

I quickly descend the stairs, coming across with her in the kitchen, preparing dinner as usual. She is cutting some vegetables, and I grimace thinking she is going to cook some weird recipes of her again but then, she picks lasagne from the bottom drawer and I swear my mouth is dropping at the floor. "L – lasagne?"

She laughs lightly at my shock, peeking at me for an instant, and continues cutting carrots. "You love that," she states as if she knows what I love or not. But she is right, I love lasagne.

"How do you know that?" I blurt out, bemused.

"You've loved it since childhood, Jacqueline, of course I know what my girl likes."

"Oh," I say, leaning against the stall, my arms folded. "You know what I like, huh?" I ask bitterly. It kind of hurts that she acts like she is so dedicated. She doesn't give a shit about me, she's never done. "Then, you also know that I hate carrot," I snap as she is done with cutting. It is a lie – I like carrot in lasagne but I say it. I want to hurt her. I want to hurt everyone.

She opens her mouth but beforehand, I storm out of the kitchen, heading back to my room. I lock the door and throw myself on the bed. I hate everyone. I fucking hate everyone. I remember Calvin's face as he was standing at our porch with a grin on his silly face and I hate him for seeming so nice and friendly and that I can't hurt him. Even I am not that heartless. I can't say no to him, because he doesn't deserve to be hurt. "See you tomorrow," he'd said to me there although he knew that it'd only earn him a eye-roll instead of goodbye.

Hatred wears me down. It is not that easy to hate everyone as if it's predicted. There are people who you can't really hate – just strongly want to hate. For instant, my parents, I want to hate them but they are fucking good for me and I think they should hate me instead. If they didn't smile at me and be all goody goody, everything would be easier. I'd at least convince myself that they hate me. But this way, I don't know what to do. When I behave like a grumpy kid, I can't help but feel bad but I also know they deserve it.

Everyone deserves what they get from me. People are fucking fake and – they let me down when I needed them the most.

I sigh, rubbing my face and realising that I am wearing a mask and it is now messed up. I unlock the door and go clean my face in the bathroom. I look at my reflection in the mirror as water is dripping from my face, and I look at my scars. They can't even describe how fucking it hurts inside.

I notice Mum standing at the door as I step out, and I pass by her quickly, ignoring her worried glance, and my shoulder brushes hers. Before I get to my room, she speaks. "What happened to your face?"

I close my eyes, sighing. "Nothing."

She comes next to me, making me turn and look at her. She touches my scars, her fingers trembling and she still wears that worried mask. I wonder how she can look so concerned – how she can fake it. "Who did this?" She asks quietly.

"I accidentally knocked my head against the wall."

She arches her eyebrow. "Tell the truth, Jacqueline."

"My name isn't Jacqueline," I snap, imitating the way she spells my name. "It's Jack."

She frowns. "But Jack is a boy-"

"So what?" I spit. "It is my name. I hate Jacqueline."

"Okay," she murmurs, softening. "Jack." Then, she asks again. "Who did this?" Her voice is determined and firm.

"I fought with someone, but don't worry, he had it worse than me."

"He?" She yells. "Did you fight with a boy? Did he punch you? Who is he, Jacqu – Jack? I'll make sure to call your teachers and get him suspended."

"Mum," I cut her. "I punched him back. I'm equivalently guilty."

She stares at my face for awhile but then, fathoms that I am right. "True."

"Don't worry, I handled it."

"I don't want to see your face like this ever again," she replies angrily. "You are a girl – don't mess up with guys." My ass. They don't mess up with me.

"Yeah, fine," I huff, even though I never mean it. I am going to punch people when they deserve it and maybe, along the way, will get some punches in return and this is so natural.

She caresses my cheek. "I'm sorry," she murmurs. "I wish I was..."

"Don't." I cut her off. I don't need a speech starting with 'I wish.' I don't care about her wishes. All I want is to be left alone – to myself. Because it was the way it all started. I had no one beside me. After building all the walls around me, I don't want anyone to attempt to enter into my den. "I'm going to sleep." It is so early but I really want to sleep this off.

"Okay." She doesn't insist and sends me another sorry look which drives me crazy. Maybe it is because I want her to insist and force me to sit. I want her to make me talk. Tell me that feelings aren't better off bottled. But she never does. She never goes against me – she always shuts up when I want her to roar. Perhaps she thinks that silence is the best cure but from my experiences, silence is the sneaky bastard that comes between people and separates them before they can get back together. It was how we ended up like this with Mum. None of us tried to break the pregnant silence between us before it was too late.

Now, the distance between us is further than the ground and the sky. And there is no way that we can close it.

*******

"Party?" I deadpan. "Who the fuck said that I would be coming to a party with you?"

Instead, Calvin grins at me as if I've just accepted his offer. We are at the lunch break and he is following me as usual. I sometimes think he can't be right in the head. Since he said he is going to fight, he keeps coming at me at breaks, with that silly grin on his face and I hate it. I hate that he looks cute – and that I find him cute. Frankly, I don't want to go to that party with him. I've never gone to a party before but I know it won't end up well if I do. "Come on, it's gonna be fun," he insists.

"Who pays you?" I ask, instead. He frowns. "There is no other explanation for your immense insistence to make me sociable." I think it is very soon that this guy is going to wear a Sociable-Jack-Campaign tee shirt and start a movement around the school.

He laughs lightly. "You are so funny."

I snort. Slamming my locker, I turn at him with a bored face. "You will need to find someone else because Jack is not coming," I say dryly.

"Jack," – he grabs my hand and takes it in his – "Please, please, please."

I roll my eyes. "Calvin," I sigh. "I usually try not to punch you but you make it so hard for me, babe. I'm literally fighting myself." He swings his arm around my shoulder, yanking me closer to himself, which is the least thing I'm used to, and whispers into my ear. "I like it when you are angry – and you are always angry."

I look up at him, annoyed, and I quickly get rid of his grip. "Don't flirt with me. And don't get any closer than we are right now." I don't look at him while talking because the previous position kind of makes me feel weird. I usually get close to someone for different purposes, so his presence next to me makes me feel uncomfortable.

"Oh, why?" He hums. "Do I make you uncomfortable?" A sneaky grin plays around his lips while asking that.

I roll my eyes, avoiding his gaze. "I am not coming. End of," I finalise the conversation. Why would I attend a party? With a date? Me?

"I even said please," he complains, with a childish tone.

I peer at him. "I don't give a fuck."

"Is Jack Pierce afraid of socialising?" He asks a bit loudly, feigning surprise.

"Me?" I snap my gaze at him, airily. "Me? Afraid? I am not afraid of anything. Especially a stupid party."

"It doesn't seem like it here." His lips are tilted with joy as he throws a sideway glance at me.

"I can easily change how it seems there, Cal," I threaten him.

"Empty threats," he huffs. "I am not buying them anymore."

I put my hands on my hips. "I am coming," – his eyes lights with happiness – "just...just to prove you wrong," I add not to boost his ego.

"Good. I'll pick you up at six," he says cheerfully. Then, he checks me up and down, and I can't help but look down at myself along with him. I am wearing my usual mini skirt and a white shirt. Despite the common stereotype of boyish girls, I actually like to wear skirts. "Wear something nice."

Before I open my mouth and snap at him about his comment about my clothes, he disappears between corridors.

***