Our Hill Of Stars

seventeen

WREN THOMAS

My eyes hurt from how much I had cried.

My head was heavy, my hair was a tangled mess in the ponytail I had thrown it into and my wrist was aching.

I told Sebastian that I'd be back later but I hadn't moved from the spot I was in.

I was curled in a ball under my covers in 70 degree weather, wearing grinch pyjamas. And I don't plan on moving.

So many bad thoughts keep entering my head and I can't seem to escape them. All I can see is Billy's slimy hands all over mine and feeling the need to get out of there.

I see his predatory eyes, devilish smirk and I can still smell his disgusting aftershave.

I cringe, going back to the photos and videos I had seen on my classmates stories, the ones people had reposted.

My phone had rang 6 times in the last hour, all from Lacey.

I hadn't picked up nor had I responded to her texts.

I simple just want to leave and never come back.

My Dad texted me though, asking why I wasn't in school and I told him I felt sick and came home. He seemed to believe me because I never get sick.

My phone vibrated for what felt like the hundredth time and I picked to up, seeing the NO Caller ID and my heart dropped, what if it's Billy? Or Jasper? Or one of Billy's friends.

Panic settles in my stomach and I contemplate on answering it.

Hesitantly, my fingers slide across the answer button and I press it up to my ear, sniffling, "Hello?" I croak out.

There is no voice speaking on the other end, but I heard the faint sound of people talking.

"Wren?" A familiar voice says.

My eyes widen as I realise who's it is, "Sebastian?" I say, sitting up in my bed, "Hey you- I- you said you were coming back to school and I haven't seen you. Schools over I was just- we-"

Suddenly I heard a cracking noise and then I heard Lacey's voice, "So you'll pick up for this douchebag, but not for your best friend? Classy Wren, classy." She sassed.

I smiled for the first time in hours and I apologised, "Look, we're just worried, are you okay?" 

I almost broke down into a puddle of tears again as she asked me that question. I shook my head while my lip trembled, memories of last night flooding my brain.

"Yeah, I'm fine. I have to babysit Jack he's uh- sick." I coughed, lying through my teeth.

Lacey talked for a few more minutes before she hung up the phone and I was left with silence again. And it greeted me comfortably.

Although, I would rather be with Lacey than surrounded by my own miserable mind. 

I stared at the dress on the ground, seeing the wrinkled material, ripped straps and the small stain from my mascara ridden tears.

I picked it up and threw it against my closet, more tears flowing freely as I cried in my hands, using my knees to rock myself back and forth.

I knew Billy was a piece of shit, I just never knew how much.

+ + + 

Eventually, Dad and Michael got home and Dad pressed a hand to my forehead, "Oh, you do feel kind of hot. Maybe you have a fever." He glanced worryingly, looking to Michael. 

Michael shrugged, "Don't look at me. The girl is never sick. It's a miracle. It means she's not a robot immune to everything." He joked.

I laughed. Michael always manages to make me feel better.

"Hey, how was the party anyway? Did you and Lacey do much last night?" Dad asked, the room filling with an amazing smell.

Immediately, my mood was dampened by that question, but I swallowed my emotions and opened my mouth, "It was okay. Slightly boring because they played really lame music. Lacey and I left early and just kind of had a girls night." I shrugged, setting the plates around the table.

"Did this girls night result in you having a sprained wrist?" Dad questioned, grinning at the thick bandage around my hand.

"We made cupcake and kind of had an electric beater malfunction." Dad cringed, "That happened to one of the girls who came in for surgery. She was baking and her hair got caught in the beater, ripped it right out." He shrugged.

My hands flew to my hair, earning a chuckle from my Dad, "Needed a hair transplant."

Jack came thundering down the stairs once we called him for dinner, a slightly rosy blush to his cheeks.

"You okay bud?" I asked, noticing he was suspiciously quiet.

"Yeah, I have a sore head." He mumbled, spooning some curry into his mouth.

I complimented Dad on his cooking and we made slight conversation. Michael complained about an annoying customer he had, Dad talked about a weird surgery he had to do and it was just normal Thomas family chatter!

"Wren and Jack, you're on dishes tonight." I nodded, clearing my plate as Jack followed me into the kitchen.

When I heard the TV flicker on, I picked Jack up from under his arms and placed him on the bench where he folded his arms over his chest.

I started to wash them while I looked over at Jack, "What's going on dude?" I asked him, finishing up the dishes as he got a towel and started to dry them.

He shrugged, the soapy bubbles collectively gathering on his hands.

"Why are you sad?" I asked, not wanting to push him.

"Just some kids at school. They're m-mean to me." He hiccuped, getting tired.

I nodded, "Why are the mean? What do they do?" 

"They call me names and don't let me play with them on the playground." He said in a small voice, looking down.

I smiled at the Spiderman velcro shoes he was wearing, helping him get down as we headed the stairs to my room.

I closed my curtains and grabbed my TV remote, switching it onto Netflix so we could watch Spongebob.

"Have you told Dad about these kids?" I ask him. He yawns and shakes his head, "No. But today they threw legos at me." He pouted, pointing to his forehead.

I frowned, feeling upset at the fact that my six year old brother was being bullied in the playground.

"Kids are mean." He said, snuggling into my bed as he began to fall asleep.

"Yeah, they are." I agreed, turning off the TV before closing my eyes, tossing and turning before sleep finally welcomed me.

+ + + 

:( poor Jack!