Seasons of Bailey: Winter - Part 6

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WinterEnd600.png
Bailey begins to realize not all is what it seems...

Seasons of Bailey
Winter
by Taylor Ryan
Title image and story Copyright © 2010-2020 Taylor Ryan
All Rights Reserved.

 


 



 


 
Part 6

I wasn't exactly sure what woke me that night. Be it the pleasant dream, or Tom bursting through the door with another man, I woke from a sound sleep. It took me a long moment to realize what had happened. Curled up on my favorite chair, I had fallen asleep reading the latest of Alice's adventures in Wonderland. The book had fallen to the side, and a soft blanket wrapped itself around me like a welcomed hug.

"Okay, okay," Tom said, his voice somewhat low. "It's not a big deal. Probably just a mistake in the books. We'll go look."

"It's a big fucking deal if we lost that money. You better pray we didn't."

At first I didn't recognize the other man's voice. Trying to place him among one of Tom's various acquaintances was straining, as I hardly knew most of them. Thinking back through the last several months, I tried to place his voice. Slowly I began to process him. The deep southern accent being my only clue, I began to picture the person using it. Raven black, perfectly groomed, hair, and the flawless toothpaste commercial smile; the voice belonged to Tom's latest business partner, Trevor James.

I'd met him only once, right before heading out on Christmas Eve to the ballet. He was a lot nicer that night. My insides began to revolt as I thought about that night. The images of Tiffany and Vince kissing still burned feverishly in my mind. Before thoughts of betrayal overwhelmed me, I refocused my energy on pretending I had not eavesdropped. I put on my best acting skills as they came up the stairs.

"Tom?" I called out, stretching as he hit the top of the stairs. "What time is it?" I asked with a yawn.

"Bailey…" Tom said, shuffling nervously. "Did we wake you up?"

"I fell asleep reading," I said, pulling my book up to show him.

"Tom…" Trevor said, impatiently stepping to the side and turning his back.

Tom nodded at Trevor. Then he flipped his wrist over to look at his watch. "You should get to bed, Bailey. You've got school tomorrow." He gestured Trevor back to his office, and turned back to me. "I've got some work to do."

"Okay," I said, yawning again to sell it. "Good night."

"Good night," Tom said, before turning to head to his office.

I gathered up my book and blanket. Slipping from my chair, I slowly made my way across the living room. From the corner of the dining room, I could see Tom step into his office, and close the door to a crack. The two men walked for a moment around the room, casting dark shadows over the slit of light as they passed by the door. The house was quiet. Justin had gone to his room long before I started reading.

"If this was any bigger, it could cost us millions," Trevor said, his voice a bit agitated. "You're lucky you still have both kneecaps."

My eyes nearly popped out of my skull after hearing that. I don't think I blinked for half a minute. A mixture of worry and curiosity stirred inside of me. Suddenly I found myself slinking up against the wall. The house got quiet again. My heart beat in my chest like a massive drum. I felt as if it would leap from my chest at any moment. The men's voices got low, and I strained to hear them.

"It was an honest mistake," Tom said. "Look. Just a number that didn't get penciled in here. The money's all accounted for."

"If your damn business wasn't a necessary step, I'd cut you off completely."

"Don't be like that," Tom said, sounding more like a scolded child by the minute. "You came to me, because you can count on me."

"What I need to count on is a damn bookkeeper," Trevor said. "And that's the first thing we're getting when this deal goes through."

"That's just more of the cut," Tom said.

"Yeah…" Trevor said, pausing for a moment. "But we can cut them out when they're no longer needed."

A lump caught in my throat the instant Trevor put emphasis on the word cut. What once sounded like one steady drum, started to sound like two. My heart raced, as they began to stir in the office. With every frightened ounce of strength I had in me, I pushed away from the wall. The light from the office vanished, and sent me stumbling backwards toward my room.

"Let's get a beer," Tom said, loudly.

Those were the last words I heard, as my socked feet carried me quickly down the hallway. As I passed the threshold of my door, I felt myself breathing for the first time since I took flight. Quickly closing my door, I backed away and sat on my bed. My body shook, my knees trembled. If the book in my hand wasn't hardback, it would've probably had deep pits where my fingers were.

For nearly half an hour I sat frozen on the side of my bed. At any moment I expected them to bust through my door and ask me why I was listening in on them. That moment never came. I managed to ease myself into bed. Being under the covers usually felt safe when I was younger. After overhearing what appeared to be Tom taking an antagonistic role in a police procedural show, my bed started to feel more like a coffin.

I vaguely remember the hours to come. Somewhere in the midst of checking my door handle, and wishing it had all been a dream, I drifted off to sleep. Another variation of the dream from before entering my slumber. It was pleasant, but surreal. Somewhere beneath it all sat a seedy darkness; one that would soon envelop all hope I had left. Then, it was morning.

"Don't forget your coat," my mother screamed, as I hurried down the stairs. "It's only supposed to stay in the twenties today."

I grabbed my coat from the rack near the door. Shoving my arm through one sleeve, I managed to open the door enough to kick it the rest of the way. My mother appeared at the top of the stairs; obviously checking to see that I followed orders. I backed through the storm door, waving at her. My other hand reached for the doorknob.

"Have a good day," she said.

"Bye mom."

As I hurried down the steps outside that day, I remember thinking about those words. They had to be the absolute worst thing to say to someone before they headed off to school. Have a good day. Nothing seemed to be whimsical enough in junior high to ever warrant the day being good. The day just was, for all intents and purposes, unremarkable to the core.

"Why so glum, sugarplum?"

I turned to face the source of the somewhat obnoxious question. A chubby-faced girl, named Nancy, had taken it upon herself to be my rock through these turbulent past few weeks. Always cheerful, her demeanor was downright impossible to sway. Obviously, like any other self-doubting kid, her disposition would falter if barraged with harsh insults, but I wasn't the slightest bit cruel enough to do that. She actually made me feel better… most of the time.

"I may have…" I suddenly stopped myself. Her infectious way of getting people to cast their burdens on her, had almost struck gold with me. I nearly blurted out the scene I'd witnessed last night. "I… had another weird dream," I covered.

"The same one?" Nancy asked.

"Not exactly," I said. "But it was close, and just as dumb as the first two."

"Well don't tell me about it," Nancy said. "My mom says it's not good to relive dreams. Only live them once."

"Now I know where you get your crazy advice," I said, forcing myself to smile.

"It's only crazy if it doesn't work," Nancy retorted.

"That one's actually not bad."

"That one comes from my dad," Nancy said, reluctantly. "Will I see you at lunch again today?"

"Sure," I said.

"Hey…" Nancy leaned over across the aisle to pat my shoulder. "Cheer up. Things will get better."

Her friend, Carla, pulled Nancy back over to their seat. Suddenly they were gabbing over some fashion magazine Carla had brought along for the bus trip. After a moment, Nancy turned to glance at me. She flashed me a pleasant smile. Once I had forced a smile back, she felt reassured, and went back to chatting with her friend.

Eventually we reached the circle drive of the school once more. I peered out at the dismal gray building, as it stretched up to reach the dismal gray sky. Winter seemed so depressing. Of course, the death cycle of anything usually took that upon itself as a mantle. Once the bus stopped, I pushed myself into the crowded aisle to start my trek inside.

Walking into the front hallway, I nearly gagged. Streams of pink, white and red paper chains danced upon the walls. Hearts sprung out of every nook and cranny, as if they'd crawled out from between their brick graves. In one spot, an overly cute cherub in a diaper held his heart-tipped bow toward the sky. And as I strolled down the rows of lockers, even more hearts popped up; taped to random lockers.

Yes, it was the week of Valentine's day. That wonderful time of year where if you have someone you care about, and money to buy them things, you were superior to the lowly single serfs. I only had one thing on my mind though. As I neared my locker, the matter became even more pressing than it had seconds earlier. Something had to be done about it, and quickly.

Reaching up, I grabbed the weak little pink monstrosity by the bottom tip. With rage welling up inside of me, I whipped my arm down fast and hard. The sound of paper and tape being ripped from my locker, filled me with a bit of glee. No longer would that trashy heart be fastened to my personal space.

"Hey!"

I concentrated on my locker combination, ignoring the voice of protest behind me.

"The art club went to a lot of trouble to decorate."

Still ignoring the whiney female voice, I finished with my combination and sprung my locker open. Shuffling the books in and out, I grabbed what I needed for my first two hours of class, and shoved them in my backpack. Before long I felt a presence behind me. Hoping they would go away, I wasted more time rearranging my locker contents.

"Can I at least have the heart back, so I can put it on another locker?"

Filling up with rage once more, I spun to face the intruder. "You want your heart back…"

My mouth dropped. A pair of turquoise eyes glared back at me. The heart-shaped face that greeted me looked not unlike the cherub's that hung in the hallway up front. Only this cherub's face looked upset and out for blood. She wore the preppy clothes from 'Tweens, and all the attitude to go with them. Suddenly her glaring eyes were the size of silver dollars.

"No… way…"

"Here!" I said, thrusting the heart into Jillian Wilcox's hand. "Just put it up somewhere else."

Before I could turn away, Jillian's hand latched onto my wrist. I glanced down at her firm grip, and then slowly let my eyes rise to meet hers.

"Are you serious?!" Jillian exclaimed loudly.

I looked at Jillian with pleading eyes, as she now glared back at me with malcontent in her own. In the deepest recesses of my heart, I always knew someone would find out about my double life. Though I'd always hoped it would be a gentle discovery, and not one where the person felt an overwhelming urge to dropkick me at the same moment.

"She said that?" Jillian said, straightening herself.

My mouth hung slack. The kids who had taken an interest in the scene, had now all turned their backs on us. Jillian still had her fingers tightly wrapped around my wrist. I was beginning to get that tingling sensation in the tips of my fingers. My heart began pounding in my chest as it had the night before. Suddenly this moment felt scarier than being caught by Tom and Trevor.

"You…" Jillian said, filling the silence if only for a millisecond. "You really look…" Her eyes ran up and down my body. "The same," she finished. Then looked me right in the eyes. "Sans makeup of course."

"Sans what?" I said.

"Without your makeup," Jillian said.

"I don't know what you're talking about," I said, trying to shake my wrist from her grip.

"Oh, get real," Jillian said. "I knew something was off about you two." She looked around for a moment. "So where's the girlfriend anyway?"

"She's… somewhere else," I said, finally squirming my arm free.

"I take it from the way you treated that paper heart, that things aren't going so well?"

"They could be better," I said, rubbing my wrist.

"Well," Jillian turned and leaned against the locker next to mine. She looked me up and down once more. "This is interesting."

Sighing, I turned to face my open locker. "I suppose you're going to take advantage of this like you did before?"

"Oh please," Jillian said. "Like you didn't have fun." She tilted her head toward me. "I wouldn't go running off telling Dylan though. He might not take it so well."

"I'm surprised you are."

"You know I just dress the part of a church girl," Jillian said. "It doesn't mean I am one."

"So what kind of girl are you?" I asked, my body feeling weak.

"One that can keep secrets," Jillian said, slightly quieter than before. "Maybe I'll keep yours."

Swallowing hard, I turned to face her. "What do you mean by maybe?"

"I mean," Jillian leaned in closer. "Maybe you can make it up to me, if I keep your little secret."

"More blackmailing?"

"No, not really," Jillian said. "I'm saying maybe we can be friends."

"Is blackmailing how you usually make friends?" I asked with a smirk.

"Ouch! Rip my heart twice in one day," Jillian said. "I'm hurt."

"Sorry," I said. "I've just been dealing with a lot of stuff lately."

"Your girlfriend?" Jillian asked, holding up the paper heart again.

"Something like that."

"Well don't take it out on anymore of the decorations," Jillian said. "Please?"

I forced myself to smile for her. "I won't."

She reached out and took my hand, turning my palm upwards. Then she pulled out a pen. The tip tickled as it danced across my palm. In it's wake it poured out a series of numbers. Once Jillian finished with that, she made sure to encase the entire thing with an ink heart. Smiling boldly, she let my hand go and straightened herself.

"Now you have a new heart," she said, with a wink. "Call me." She started to walk away, but turned back abruptly. "Tonight." She paused for a moment. "But not too late!" And with that, Jillian Wilcox hurried away.

The day seemed to drag on forever it seemed. Each minute passed like an hour, and at times I found myself watching the seconds tick away on the clocks. I had already copied Jillian's number to a safer place. Just in case some freak accident caused me to lose my hand, or the ink sweated off in gym class. It honestly surprised me of how accepting Jillian had been. If the day wasn't so dull, I would've sworn I was having another dream.

Science class came and went, without so much as ten words from Tracy. Although she claimed to be on my side, she really had taken up residence in neutral territory. She pronounced her feelings were akin to standing in the middle of her two siblings. Her mantra of "I love you both," wasn't exactly what either of us wanted to hear. At least she still had Jason.

Two more boring hours later brought us to lunch. It also brought us full circle back to Nancy's obnoxious ever-cheerful counseling corner. Perhaps if my mood had been different that winter, I would have cherished our friendship more. However, if I hadn't been down in the dumps, I probably would've never gotten a chance to know her. We met under somewhat unusual circumstances.

Nancy was the type to keep only the closest of friends. Although she came off as bubbly and unassuming, she could read people well. She instantly knew the deeper inner workings of someone, and could tell if they would be staunch friends, or close acquaintances. I never knew or understood how she did it, but she could smell a backstabber from a mile away, and held them at arms length until the moment came.

"Have you talked to her lately?" Nancy quietly asked.

"Who?" I looked up to see Nancy and Carla looking back at me with pity written all over their faces.

"Really?" Carla asked. "You've been stealing glances at her all lunch."

"All last week too," Nancy added, sympathetically.

"Well if it bothers you two, I can always sit somewhere else."

"Don't be silly," Nancy said. "We'd just come sit with you all over again."

I glanced back over to the person in question. Long black hair framed the face of a girl I once considered an angel. She was my angel, and I thought we had something special. The hazel-eyed beauty knew every last one of my secrets. I thought I had known all of hers. Only the one that she had been keeping from me, cut me deeply, and shattered what we once had.

"I guess it still hurts," I said, my voice barely audible.

"Well of course," Nancy said. "That's why we asked."

"We're just concerned," Carla said, reaching out to pat my hand.

"I haven't talked to her since we broke up," I said, looking back at Tiffany. She sat with Tracy still, but I couldn't bring myself to sit with them. "It's hard to be friends after…" I went back to eating my lunch, though not feeling in the least bit hungry.

"You know," Carla said, "I heard the thing with Vince didn't last that long."

"Don't," Nancy said, cutting her friend off. "That was pure guilt on her part, and Bailey doesn't need to hear that."

"I'm just trying to help," Carla said.

"It's okay," I said, looking at both of them. "It doesn't change how I feel."

"How do you feel?" Nancy asked quietly.

I sighed, reflecting on the last several months. The line that Tiffany gave me, when I confronted her, echoed in my mind. "It just… happened." It… happened to be the short form for Tiffany having a moment of weakness and falling for Vince. It… was a mistake, that she couldn't erase. It… was the soul purpose that Tiffany and I no longer talked. She wanted to, but the pain I felt inside hurt too deeply for mere words.

"Betrayed," I said with a slight tinge of anger.

Nancy nodded at me quietly from across the table. Carla turned back to look at Tiffany, and I followed her gaze. Tiffany sat there solemnly at our old table. Next to Tracy, she hardly spoke a word. With her head down, she quietly ate her lunch in slow rhythm. It had been that way for days.

It was true that Tiffany had not hung out with Vince for the last few weeks. I heard it daily from Tracy and Jason. Luckily I didn't share a single class with Vince anymore. So I didn't have to see his smug face for the remainder of the school year. The honest truth happened to be that I no longer wanted anything to do with the old group. With the only exception being Tawny, the old group, to me, had all broken to pieces.

However, the rift between Tiffany and I had stirred up a hornets nest when it came to their older siblings. I hardly ever saw Tawny unless her older sister Lynn was getting together with Tiffany's older sister Kate. Kate happened to be friends with all of their siblings, which is what drew our little group together to start with. Once dissension had started, the chances of us hanging out were slim. That is unless we went to each other's houses, which seemed kind of dull considering our past adventures.

"So what's with the heart?" Carla asked abruptly.

I snapped out of my trance, and looked at her quizzically. She nodded down at my hand. Flipping it over, I remembered my run-in with Jillian earlier that day. The heart she had drawn seemed cute at the time, but now the feeling of nausea returned. It was almost sickening sweet.

"New crush?" Nancy asked expectantly.

"Just a girl I know," I said. "Long story."

"Are you going to call her?" Nancy asked.

My shoulders lifted into a shrug. "I don't know. Maybe."

"I think you should," Nancy said. "At least it'll take your mind off things."

"What about Tiffany?" I asked, not really knowing the answer myself.

"I didn't say make out with her," Nancy said. "But honestly… If I were you…"

"You should move on," Carla interjected. "At least give yourself a chance to get over her."

A sigh escaped my lips. "I think I need more guy friends…"

"Nancy's pretty close to a guy friend," Carla said with a laugh. A laugh that was quickly thwarted by Nancy punching her in the side with an elbow.

I happened to agree with Carla, and not just about Nancy being boyish. I'd grown up with her around the neighborhood, and knew she was more of a boy than I had been in recent years; especially recent months. However, Carla was also right about me moving on. As much as it pained me to do it, Tiffany had lied to me more than just this time. I wasn't so sure that I could trust her again.

Tiffany had revealed my secret when I asked her not to. She had lied about how she met Vince, him being gay, and even their support group. They had actually been setup by their parents, and reluctantly hit it off at a fundraiser. If I had to guess, it was Tiffany's mom pushing her away from girls; or rather girly boys in my case. I had been led on for several months. While Tiffany pushed me to be more of a girl, she was getting cozy with another boy.

When it came right down to it, I felt Tiffany wanted to have it both ways. She wanted a boyfriend, and a boy friend that she could treat as her girl friend. Amazingly, and unwittingly on my part, she had struck gold with me. I had been her girl friend willingly, long before she decided to have a boyfriend as well. What I couldn't understand is why she let Vince go. Nancy could call it guilt, but I felt there was some other reason behind her decision.

The cafeteria noise brought me out of another contemplative trance. Around me a multitude of lunch trays clacked inharmoniously, and students were rising to their feet. I glanced one last time toward Tiffany. She brushed her long black hair to the side as she lifted her lunch tray from the table. Her hazel eyes danced upwards and caught mine for the briefest of moments. For a moment I felt her sorrow cross the room and stab at my heart, but then it was gone, and so was she.

"Guess we'll see you on the bus," Nancy said.

Carla stood up with her, and gave me a pleasant smile. "You should call her." She pointed at my hand, and then walked away.

I quickly crammed what remained of my lunch into the brown paper bag from whence it came. Before any of my so-called friends could accost me, I pushed myself away from the table and made my escape from the cafeteria. I snaked my way through the crowd of students in the halls, and slipped into the boys bathroom. It was empty and quiet for the moment. I walked to the sink and started to scrub off Jillian's number from my hand.

For me to say the rest of the day was a blur, would be an outright lie. The rest of the day moved slower than refrigerated molasses being poured outside in the arctic circle. There seemed to be no rhyme or reason to being at school, or anywhere for that matter. At the moment, I really hated being outside of my house.

I hated being inside of my house too. My entire life sucked. The only bright spot was knowing when gym class came, I was less than an hour away from going home. Which I suppose is why I felt somewhat relieved that day to be changing into my gym clothes. Despite how ignorant our mandated gym clothes looked, they were a welcomed comfort at the moment.

I'd been dreading gym class ever since sixth grade ended. The horror stories you see on television and in movies, of the scrawny kid being picked on, had played tricks on my mind for the last several months. My family thought I was snapping out of my "girly phase" as Tom put it, simply because I'd grown tired of it. However, the strongest fear in my decision came from this very class.

I was afraid of my secret being seen by some of these other boys. Though I tried not to look around, I couldn't help notice the other boys in gym class. I wasn't blind. Some of them had started developing in ways I wish I had. A few had muscle definition already, while a couple even had body hair. Any hair I had managed to scrap together, I had foolishly shaved off before dressing that last time and going out with Tawny. It had not shown great progress of growing back.

I felt inadequate. My biggest concern going into gym class, was not whether or not I would match up with the other boys. Rather my biggest concern was trying to at least look like a boy in front of the other boys. I seriously doubted any of them were worried about giving up panties for the semester. Not one of them probably stopped painting their nails, or put their feminine attire away for the winter. And I was pretty certain none of them had been out tanning that summer in a girls swimsuit, or modeled girls clothing.

Yet every day I looked forward to this time. It let me blow off some steam. Even though I comparatively sucked at sports, I did have fun playing them. So I felt a small amount of relief as we walked down the stairs to the gym. I felt like I could blow this day off like so many others, and forget about Tiffany and Jillian, and perhaps girls in general. As we reached the bottom of the stairs, my competitive spirit had been kicked into overdrive.

Then it came to a dead stop and the engine fell out. Something was missing that day from the gym. The heavy partition curtain, that so adamantly separated the gym into boys and girls gym classes, had been pushed aside. We could see the entire gym now from where we stood. Everything could be seen, including the girls entering the gym from their own locker room.

"Alright," our coach's voice boomed from behind us. "Today we're starting our first coed event of the semester." He pushed through us to the front of the pack. "I strongly suggest you show the girls respect." He turned to face us. "Or you'll quickly be dealing with me. Got it?"

I nodded along with the rest of the boys around me, but stared into oblivion as the girls drew closer.

"Everyone take a seat," our coach said.

"We'll be pairing you up with a partner today," the girl's coach said. "Get used to each other, as you'll be partners for the next two weeks."

I looked over at the girls gym class, as we all took our seats on the bleachers. Most of them I had never seen before. However, a few of them caught my eye, as I knew them all too well. Tiffany spotted me and gave me a shy glance before turning away. Behind her, Tawny boldly gave me a pleasant smile and a quick wave. I waved back to her, as I took my seat.

"Okay listen up," the girl's coach said. "I'll call out a name of one of the girls, and then coach Higgins will call out her partner's name. Once we have everyone with a partner, we'll go over the fundamentals of square dancing."

Several audible groans erupted from the boy's gym class, and mingled with a few from the girls.

"Hey!" Coach Higgins stepped forward, thrusting his clipboard behind his back. "What did I say about respect?"

Silence fell over the bleachers, and not a sound could be heard throughout the gymnasium. After a few minutes, the coaches began piecing together dance partners down on the gym floor. The list of names seemed to go on forever. I watched from the back as our groups slowly dwindled. Tiffany still remained over on the girl's side, and I began to worry that I'd be partnered with her.

"Tiffany Stewart," the girl's coach called out.

My palms began to sweat. I could feel my heart pounding. If Coach Higgins called my name, I didn't know if I'd be able to stand. Tiffany gathered herself and strolled down to the gym floor. As she walked, my whole entire focus shifted to Coach Higgins. He pulled the clipboard up, and slid his finger down the list of names. A lump formed in my throat as he opened his mouth to speak.

"Brad Stevenson."

A burst of calm spread through my body. I turned to look at Tiffany. For a moment I saw her face contort through a series of emotions. They ranged from relief to disappointment, and then finally into a shy smile as she looked at Brad. Up until this point, I had not cared who she was partnered with, as long as it wasn't me. However, as I saw them start talking, and apparently hitting it off, a slight tinge of jealousy shot through me. I didn't want to be with Tiffany at that moment, but then I didn't want her to be with another boy either.

"Tawny Simmons."

I jumped at Tawny's name being called. My eyes danced over to where she was standing from her seat. She seemed to hop down the few stairs of the bleachers. When she hit the floor, she turned and looked up at the boys nervously. She clenched her left elbow in her right hand, and let her left arm dangle across her body. At that moment, I really hoped she got partnered with someone that made her feel comfortable.

"Bailey Walker," Coach Higgins called out.

"I thought this was girl and boy, not girl and girl," one of the boys said as I stood. It was met with subtle laughter.

"Hey!" Coach Higgins shouted, pointing his clipboard in the direction of the comment. "That better be the last time I hear something like that."

The damage had already been done. Half of the students behind the coaches were smiling and snickering. Tawny's smile, the one that lit up her face when she'd heard my name, had faded into the universal look of pity. I made my way down the steps of the bleachers, and walked up to Tawny. We exchanged pleasantries and moved to the back with the rest of the students.

"Don't let 'em get to you," Tawny said.

"Huh?" I looked at Tawny in total confusion.

"What he just said."

"Oh," I said, chuckling. "I'm used to that. I was just thinking about something else."

"Tiff?"

"Actually… no," I said. "I mean I was." I glanced over at Tiffany. "I was thinking I didn't want to be partnered with her." I turned back to Tawny. "But other than that…"

"I see," Tawny said, nodding thoughtfully. "Do you…" Tawny shrugged her shoulders, and then stood up straighter. "Would you like to come over some time?"

"To your house?"

"Yeah," Tawny said. "To hang out."

"Sure," I said, smiling. "Or we could go somewhere. I haven't been out for awhile."

"Or that," Tawny said, now smiling as well. "We could go bowling, or skating, or something."

"Okay," I said. "Sounds great."

"Which?" Tawny said, as if it were a life or death decision.

"Whatever," I said. "I'm not picky."

Our brief conversation was interrupted by the girl's coach going over the fundamentals of square dancing. Apparently square dancing in fifth and sixth grade had not been beaten into our skulls enough. So we had to suffer through it in junior high as well. Honestly, I could take it or leave it, as it wasn't the worst thing in the world. It was social enough to not stress most kids out, and fun enough for kids to not get bored. And it would certainly not be the last time I'd partake in it.

Luckily Tiffany was not in our group of eight dancers either. This made it more enjoyable in the long run. I didn't hate Tiffany, or anything of the sort. Although most people thought I did. In fact, I still had feelings for her. Perhaps they weren't as strong as they were before, but the things we shared still weighed heavily on my mind. I simply needed to be away from her for awhile.

Gym class ended, perhaps too soon for some of the students. I think a few of the girls and boys were just happy to be in close proximity to the opposite gender. It amazed me how the class went from groans at the start, to mostly everyone enjoying themselves in the end. That seemed to be one of life's little mysteries to me at that age. But it didn't make me dwell on it long enough to not rush off to meet my bus. I wanted nothing more than to be home.

"So… Are you going to call her?" Nancy asked, now sitting next to me on the bus ride home.

"Who?"

"The girl who wrote on your hand, silly," Nancy said, grabbing my hand and turning it over. "Oh… you washed it off."

"I'd actually almost forgotten about that," I said, honestly.

"Does she like you?" Nancy asked.

Shrugging, I pulled my hand away. "I don't know if it's even like that."

"What's it like?"

"She said she just wanted to be friends," I said.

"Nothing wrong with that, I suppose."

I shrugged once more.

"You don't want to talk about it?" Nancy asked.

"Not really," I said, chuckling nervously.

"Can I ask you a personal question?" Nancy asked quietly.

"I guess," I said, looking at her now.

"You don't have to answer it, or anything," Nancy said, "but why did you stop painting your nails?"

My face must have looked like I'd been shot in the stomach with birdshot. I recall myself even wincing as if in pain. Nancy looked a little worried as well, as she quickly glanced around her to see if anyone had heard the question. When she looked back at me, she had a look of concern on her face. She reached up and placed her hand on my shoulder.

"I'm sorry," she said. "You don't have to answer that."

"It's a long story anyway," I said.

"It's just… I've seen some things," Nancy said. "I think… But I'm not sure. And I was wondering."

"I don't want to talk about it," I said, pulling away slightly.

Nancy took the hint and removed her hand. I turned to look out the window. For the rest of the bus ride, I sat in silence. Nancy sat silently beside me, never offering anything more than quiet support. Eventually we came to her stop, and we said our goodbyes, although I never turned from the window until we came to my stop. I knew what she was thinking, and I knew what she had probably seen.

It was the last thing I wanted to talk about today. I hurried from the bus, and up to my front door. By the time I reached the top of the stairs, I had gained speed. I called out. Nobody seemed to be home. Dropping my backpack on my bed, I yanked the zipper open. I pulled my notebook out, and flipped the pages to Jillian's number.

Then I slumped down against the side of my bed. Jillian probably hadn't come home yet, and I didn't want to seem eager. I tossed the notebook on the floor next to me. For a moment I sat and stared at the open pad of paper. After several minutes of boredom, I kicked off my shoes and pushed myself up off the floor. I slowly made my way to the kitchen.

As I reached up to flick the kitchen light on, I noticed light spilling from Tom's office. I called out once more, this time for Tom in particular. Nobody answered. I crept over across the kitchen and dining room, and found myself standing at his office door. After a few knocks, and no response, I pushed the door open. Only planning to turn the light off, I froze when I saw Doctor Dinesh's name on a letterhead.

Scooting across the threshold of Tom's office, I slinked into his chair. I carefully pulled the letter out from under a stack of papers, making sure I knew exactly where to place it back. The last thing I needed was an irate Tom on my hands. After a quick glance over my shoulder, I unfolded the letter. It was short.

Tom,

The financial side is in order. Suggest moving up the timeline on the procedure. The sooner we act, the better off things will be for all of us. I know it wasn't planned this way, but a surgical approach would be in our best interest. The situation is collapsing rather quickly. I'll move ahead to see that everything is in order.

Regards,
Lamar Brooks

I must have read that letter twenty times. The first several times it didn't make sense. Then it slowly dawned on me. The words "surgical" and "procedure" jumped out at me like a tiger hiding in the bush. Was Doctor Brooks talking about me? Were they planning some sort of surgery to fix me?

With my hands trembling, I managed to slip the letter back into place beneath the stack of papers. I pushed myself out of the chair, and flipped off the light. Pausing at the doorway, I looked back at the letter. Where did Rajan stand in all of this? Did he know? What was actually wrong with me that it could require surgery?

Like a zombie I moved across the dining room and kitchen. I don't remember making it down the hallway, and certainly didn't remember entering my room. Slumped back down against the side of my bed, I pulled my knees to my chest. The letter seemed branded into my brain now. What did it mean?

As I thought about it, I found myself subconsciously reaching for something underneath my bedside table. I pulled the tiny object out and shook it. Like I was out of my body, I watched myself pull off my right sock. Then I unscrewed the cap from the tiny little bottle in my hand. I pulled out the brush, and then I carefully ran the tiny brush over one toenail. I couldn't stop once I had started. One at a time, each of my toenails became covered in a dark, but shiny, sapphire blue.


 
 
To Be Continued...
 

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Comments

Wow!

Angharad's picture

Things are moving in all directions at once - next part please, the suspense is agonising.

Angharad

Can't wait...

...for the next episode. I read all parts and still LOVE the story!

Jolanda

I'm confused...

...did he just not believe tiffany or did he have contradicting information from her explanation of what happened? I must have missed something in the reading.

Sometimes it's the easiest answer

"I wasn't exactly sure what woke me that night. Be it the pleasant dream..." ;)

~Taylor Ryan
My muse suffers from insomnia, and it keeps me up at night.

Thanks for the New Posting

I'm surprised that Tiffany has turned out to be such a lying manipulative little.......
Sounds like it hasn't worked out all that well for her either though.

Hope we'll see another posting of this fine series soon.

It seems that one of Bailey's

It seems that one of Bailey's biggest problems is that she fails to say what is foremost on her mind.
I hope now she's finally found her balance..Betrayal
is rough to deal with..This does seem like a good time to be more honest and forthcoming with her friends.

alissa

A rattlesnake has rattles

Jamie Lee's picture

Wow!! Did not see that coming, that Tiffany could lie convincingly right through her teeth. As if Bailey doesn't have enough problems trusting people, Tiffany thrusts another sword through Bailey's back.

Bailey does needs true friends, but is that what Jillian really wants to be? Might she be just another Tiffany? The way she went about making it known to Bailey she wants to be friends is just a bit suspicious.

Nancy and Carla do seem like friends, though maybe just a bit to pushy at times. It's hard to tell if Nancy is really a concerned friend or after something more.

Tawny is another story. She does have feelings for Bailey, and does see more to Bailey than what's been presented. And now that they're paired for square dancing, they will see quite a lot of each other.

Overhearing the conversation between Tom and Trevor, and now the letter on Tom's desk, something smells worse than road killed skunk. Just what is going on that caused Bailey to start polishing her nails again? Maybe Bailey's imagination has once again gotten the better of her? Or Tom is really about to cross a line which will get him permanently kicked out of the house? If he lives?

Others have feelings too.