Helpless (Book 1)

Chapter Seventeen

I STAY AWAY from Laurens as far as possible. I don't go near him, I don't talk to him, I don't look at him, I don't sit with him at lunch, I don't do anything that has to do with him. I remain usually quiet throughout the day which worried George a little when I entered English in a complete mess: with my auburn hair all tousled up at the multiple times I had tugged at it, with dry tears staining my freckled cheeks and I wouldn't be surprised if there were dark circles underneath my eyes.

 I stand in front of the door to English, staring at the glass window in the middle of the door with a blank, dazed look. I swallow hard, closing my eyes for just a moment before slowly reopening them. I press my lips into a thin line and slowly grip the doorknob and push the door open, poking my head through the cracked doorframe so only my upper half of my body appears, from the chest up. 

 "Alexander?" George's voice says, snapping me out of my thoughts. He scoots his chair back almost immediately as I close the door behind me gently. George rushes towards me when he sees how distressed I am and puts both hands on my arms, near my elbows. I don't meet his eyes. "Alexander, son, what happened?" 

 "Dad?" I say, grimacing at how weak I sound. My voice croaks from the times I silently cried to myself. My breath hitches in my throat as I try to stop the sobs from escaping me. "Yes, my boy?" George whispers, crouching down to my level a little as he brushes back some loose red-brownish bangs out of my red-rimmed violet eyes and tucks them behind my ear. I close my eyes, humming. "I want to go home..." I whimp. 

 George frowns, tilting his head to one shoulder. "What do you mean, son? Are you sick?" He presses the back of his hand against my forehead, feeling for a fever. I shake my head, my arms wrapped tightly around my small, delicate frame.

 "I mean, I do feel nauseous. But not sick. I just... I just want to go home..."

 George sighs and has me sit in his chair while he crouches down in front of me. I look up and lock eyes with his. He smiles a little, only a little, as he brushes more loose bangs out of my eyes and behind my ears. I sniff, swallowing hard. His smile fades however when he notices something I don't.

 "Son...tell me what happened...it's okay. I won't be mad, I promise. I just want to help you, Alex, and I can't help you if you don't tell me what's wrong. I won't tell anyone unless you want me to. Understand?" George says. 

 I nod, sniffling and wiping my cheeks with the heel of my palm.

 "So...tell me what's wrong, my boy. It's alright. Take your time," George soothes.

 I swallow again and nod. I close my eyes gently and slowly reopen them. I let out a shaky breath. 

 "I had sex with John Laurens!" I blurt out, so fast it sounds like the words are mumbled or jumbled together. 

 "What?" George breathes, unable to understand what I had just said. 

 I swallow. "You know...you know John? John Laurens?" George nods skeptically. "Well um...he uh...he was drunk last night and um...um...um..." 

 "And what son?" 

 I swallow again. 

 "We had sex," I confess, feeling a weight lifted off of my chest all of a sudden.