5. Chapter 5

5

Hope

"HOPE HANSON. IT'S YOU, RIGHT?" A CHEERY VOICE GREETS M, AS I COLLECT MY BOOKS FROM THE LOCKER ON WEDNESDAY MORNING.

For a moment, I freeze. Not sure if this is actually happening.

Someone's talking to me?

She knows my name which probably means she's here for my help.

For a moment I thought she was here for different reasons. Stupid me.

I face her. "It's me."

The girl standing in front of me is an inch shorter than me. She has high cheekbones, hazel eyes, a heart-shaped face, a button nose, and pink lips. Her golden hair is pulled back in a high ponytail, leaving her beautiful face on display. Seriously, she is beautiful.

"Hi," I say with a smile, despite the tornado of thoughts orbiting my brain.

Her grin widens. "Hey! I'm Marie. I'm in the same grade as you. We also share a few classes. Mr. Carlie said you can help me with the test that's coming up next week." She explains in a sweet voice.

There's a certain warmth to her. Like being under the sun in winter.

"Yeah, sure." My voice comes out shaky, which isn't a good first impression. I clear my throat and add, "Meet me in the library after third period, if you have it free."

A frown takes over her delicate features. "Isn't it P.E.?"

One class I try to avoid at every chance. I'm not an athletic person and don't like any sports. Books are the only thing I like, and I'd rather spend a forty-five-minute class reading.

"Yes, but I heard Miss Jameson is absent today, so it'll be free." People are always loud in the hallway, firing information like a news channel.

Marie nods. "It works for me."

"Okay then." I look past her in the crowded hallway. No one pays attention to both of us. We might as well be invisible to them. I get why people avoid me. I'm the nerd, the girl who's always reading books and getting A's. I don't talk and avoid human interaction as much as I can. I'm also shy, awkward, and quiet. All the things people probably don't like.

Marie, on the other hand, she's someone who'll fit perfectly in the popular group. I'm surprised she doesn't already have girls flocking behind her. She is friendly and also beautiful.

"What class do you have right now?" Marie breaks my chain of thoughts.

I don't speak a lot, but my mind is always having full-on conversations. I swear, it's not creepy. I just think a lot. Sometimes so much that I want to escape it and find quiet somewhere.

I take out my phone to check my schedule. "English."

Disappointment flickers through her hazel eyes. "That's a bummer. I have computer science. It's my elective." She explains while I think I've never seen her around school. She said we share classes, but since my eyes are always fixed on a book I might've missed her.

The second bell rings and the hallway gets crowded.

"I'll see you during third period at the library." With that, I leave.

Marie is right on time as she walks into the library. I take in her outfit; a white top and a pink skirt, paired with white sneakers that are decorated with art. Cherry earrings, a gold heart necklace, and beady bracelets complete her look. There is so much color and fashion, which suits her.

She nears me with a dazzling smile.

"Hi." Her smile is her best accessory.

I quickly close the novel. "Hi."

She puts down her bag and takes out a notebook. Her eyes land on my novel. "You read."

I nod.

"That's great. I don't read books, because coding is my thing. I'm always learning and experimenting with it for hours."

"You must be great at it."

She blushes and shakes her head. "My teacher says I'm brilliant, but really I play a lot with it. Coding seems easy to me. I want to do it for the rest of my life. And since you read books, I bet you'd join a publishing house or something. I don't know much, so please don't mind me if I'm wrong."

Mom's words echo in my head. Instantly my heart drops into my stomach in despair.

I answer in a neutral tone, hiding my pain, because what good is there to show it? "It's fine, I don't mind. There are various things you can do besides joining a publishing house. But I won't be able to, because I'm going to med school."

A gasp leaves her mouth. "Med school? That's exciting and terrifying."

I agree with the terrifying part. Studying for so many years just to do long shifts. I don't like how absent Mom is from home. Days go by before I get to see her. We spend little to no time with each other. All we have are messages and calls that are too short. I don't want the same to happen to me. I want to do things, read books, and visit places like Hogwarts—the film set in England. I won't be able to do any of that if I become a nurse or doctor. I'll be bound to the hospitals and patients. While it's a noble profession that saves lives, I just don't think it's for me—a high-strung person who gets anxious and lives inside her head.

"I'm good at science," I repeat Mom's words.

Marie beams. "No wonder you are. Mr. Carlie mentioned you've never gotten below A-plus. That's amazing!" She sighs heavily. "Here I am flunking that class when it's the last time I have to study it." She leans back into the chair. "I'm not an overachiever, but I like getting good grades, and it's not because of my parents. They're cool with anything, as long as I'm happy."

It must be good to not feel pressured to follow a certain path and do whatever you want to do.

"I can make you some maps that'll help you memorize information." I change the topic to slide away the gloominess weighing on my chest

She nods enthusiastically. "Yes! That would be helpful. Also, I talk a lot, so stop me if I ramble."

It's the most anyone has ever talked to me.

I offer her a genuine smile. "I don't mind." I mean it.

For the next forty minutes, I explain the topic to her and fill pages with summarized notes and web diagrams. Once I'm done, we solve a few questions together, and she answers most of them correctly. I help her when she needs a hint, but she does well on her own. I realize her weakness lies in a lack of understanding, and not learning.

Marie slumps back and lets out a dramatic sigh. "All my brain cells are dead."

A laugh bubbles out of me. A sound I haven't heard in a while.

"Thank you for the help," she says softly.

I smile. "You're welcome."

With dread, I check the time. The bell is about to ring any second now. Part of me doesn't want it to. For the first time, I'm having fun with someone, even if it's a study session. She's the only one who's actually talked to me and made me laugh. Usually, I work with people in silence. They need my notes and I… well, I earn the satisfaction that I helped someone. Nothing more, nothing less.

Marie's phone pings. She sees the screen and scowls. It's strange to see her like this.

"I hate how rude Heath is," she mutters under her breath.

Wait. What?

My mood changes drastically.

It can't be him.

At the mere mention of his name my heart races.

I can't help being curious, and blurt out, "You mean Heath Travon?"

Marie quickly looks at me and studies me, then says, "Yes."

I hold my breath as I ask, "You–you know him?"

She nods slowly. "Yes. He's one of my best friends. Well, he'd say otherwise, so don't believe him. I'm dating his best friend, Sebastian Hale, so Heath hangs out with us."

"Oh." This is what he meant when he said he has friends.

"But how do you know him?" She sounds protective as she eyes me skeptically.

"I bandaged his knuckles. You must've seen them. They were bad," I explain nervously under her scrutinizing gaze.

Marie's eyebrows pinch until something clicks. A grin stretches tugs on her lips, and she cups her mouth with both hands, then points at me. "It's you . The pretty girl."

The pretty girl. What?

Heath can't possibly mean that about me.

I'm the clumsy girl who bumped into him twice. Yes, that's more like it.

I shake my head. "I don't think that's me." There's no way Heath said that about me. He was mixed levels of grumpy and annoyed and acted like he couldn't wait to get away from me.

"Holy fucking shit. I can't believe it," she whispers.

Picking up her phone, she furiously types on it, then switches it off.

Leaning over the table, she locks her gaze on me. "What happened yesterday, tell me all about it. Don't skip."

"Uh…" Heath didn't mention not saying anything to anyone, so I think I can talk about it. Also, Marie said she's his best friend—which I find hard to believe, I mean they are opposites—and they must hang out, meaning she should've already known about it.

"You don't have to if you don't want to," she adds in a sympathetic tone.

"Nothing happened," I say.

"You said you tended to his knuckles. How did that happen?"

"I bumped into him, and he saved me, so in exchange, I suggested taking care of his knuckles. He agreed, and I wrapped them up. That's it."

Her eyes widen. "Heath never lets anyone touch him, let alone take care of him."

I can see that happening. However, he was pretty compliant with me. He said not a single word. Also, he wasn't cold and angry like he was with everyone else at school.

I purse my lips as those thoughts roam my head. "He did that because I agreed to stay away from him." That was the whole point.

"Wait what?!" Marie exclaims in surprise. Others turn to glare at her.

Standing up, she rounds the table and sits next to me. In a hushed voice she asks, "He said that?"

"Yes."

She curses. "Don't mind him. He's a good guy."

I know nothing about the guy to form an opinion, but if someone like Marie is his friend, and says he's a good guy, then it must be true.

"Do you have friends?"

"No." My hands fidget with each other. God, I'm nervous.

"Would you be my friend? I hang out with two guys. Although, it's fun to be around them. I want female company. And no girl at school likes me enough to be my friend."

My eyes widen.

She can't be serious.

I find it so hard to believe. Marie is nice and sweet, even funny at times. It baffles me that she doesn't have an army of friends already.

Would you be my friend? It's the first time someone has asked me this question. From kindergarten to this day, no one bothered to like me enough to be my friend. I always thought something was wrong with me. That there was a fault I couldn't see, but others did that repelled them from me. The only reason they approached me was because they were compelled to—they needed the grade, and I could help them get it. But they didn't want anything more from me.

My chest packs with air. I'm overwhelmed with a ton of feelings. A history of flashbacks rolls in front of me. All those times I was alone and everyone had someone.

It's such a simple question, but it holds so much meaning to it.

My voice cracks. "I'd love to, if it's okay with you."

I'm sixteen, and this is the first time I'm making a friend.

Life is full of surprises. One moment you're alone, the next you aren't.

Marie tears up, and giddiness brightens her face. Like me, she's been alone too. I can see it on her, and she can see it on me. It's not difficult to read someone who's like you.

We've both been alone all this time.

Until now.

Marie nods, without a doubt in her eyes. "I'm more than sure about it."

Giving me her phone, I save my number, and she sends a text. "I'll send you my schedule and we can be together in classes."

Just like that a friendship forms.

I take the bus because of cramps. I just know my period is due, and this time it'll be painful.

For me, some months are easy, but some are so excruciatingly painful that I can barely step down from bed.

Mom gave me birth control pills to help with the pain, but my skin started breaking out and I felt nauseous. I couldn't deal with throwing up and seeing my face covered in pimples—I got rid of them by applying a ton of products and it's only now that I have clear skin. I'll take pain over bad skin every day.

When I get home, I find the front door ajar. And no, the lock isn't broken.

I stop in my tracks.

Mom won't leave the front door open. No one besides us has the key, except for one person. Alex Hanson, my father, who can't be here. He walked out on us three months ago.

With caution, I enter the house. The eerie quietness makes my heart beat erratically fast.

I tiptoe into the living room and find no sign of him.

Maneuvering into the kitchen, I gasp at the state it is in. All the cabinets are open. Pots, containers, spoons, forks, and food boxes are strewn on the floor as if a wild raccoon paid a visit. The refrigerator top is a mess— Mom puts emergency cash there.

Taking a stool, I stand on it and search behind the candle box. The money's gone. All of it. There's not a single penny.

I hop down the stool and sit on it as I try to think. There's no way Dad took it. He knows why we put it there; in case we have to go to the hospital, buy a meal when there's no food or fare for a cab.

I take my phone out to call Mom but a knock on the door startles me.

Taking a deep breath, I go outside, and find Nadina, our seventy-year-old next-door neighbor, standing with the help of her cane. For a moment, I'm in shock to see her at my doorstep.

Giving me a smile she breaks the silence. "Hey, dear. You got a minute?" she asks, wrinkles surfacing with each word.

I hold onto the door frame and pull myself together. "Yes. Would you like to come in?"

"No, I have to go back and babysit my grandchild. I came over to tell you, I saw your father earlier this afternoon. He was so drunk he was missing steps and talking to himself. I was going to help him but thought otherwise when I saw how wasted he was. I heard stuff breaking and then he left in a car."

I stay mute, not knowing what to say to her. The woman has never talked to me before, but the way she's looking at me tells me that she knows everything about us. She must've heard everything over the years. After all, walls are thin.

My cheeks burn in embarrassment.

I never wanted anyone to know what happened in my home. My parents went from love to fighting with each other. Affection changed into abuse. The things I heard and saw still haunt me.

I tightly hold the door to not shut it and hide in my room.

"If you need anything I'm only a few steps away," Nadina offers, despite no reply.

My stomach curls in uneasiness. She knows stuff I want to erase from her memory—and mine.

"Thank you." I avoid eye contact and stare at her strawberry earrings and the orange gown she's wearing. She also has bracelets and necklaces on her, and I just know each piece has a story attached to it. Looking at her, I wish I met my grandparents. I wonder what they're like. Both of my parents never mention them or even talk to them, so I have no idea if they're even alive or not.

"No problem, dear. Just remember you're not alone." With a smile, she steps down the porch and looks back at me. "I'm glad you weren't home. That man was not in the state to walk, let alone talk to his daughter."

Something tells me this won't be the last time my father shows up.