Skinny • Book 1 In The Reality Series

Katy

After Calum’s break down, which it was referred to as, Calum didn’t return to school for a week. The same day that Michael came back.

I was sitting in art class, the last class of the day, when the low hum of chatter which filled the room before Miss Kitt made her entrance, fell instantly silent. Confused, I looked up and watched as a familiar head of brown hair shuffled into the room. Immediately a buzz filled the air, whispers falling from every mouth as every eye followed the lean, lanky boy as he limped across the room, stopping beside my table.

“Katy.” Michael’s familiar voice muttered, “Can I um… can I sit here?”

Surprised and startled, I nodded hastily and moved my notebook out of his way.

“Thanks.” He mumbled, sitting down next to me.

Risking a glance at him out of the corner of my eye, I nearly cried. Michael’s athletic build had been replaced with a gaunt, skeletal frame. His left arm was broken, his left knee encircled by a clunky metal brace and then there was his face.

A collage of green and purple bruises stained his pale skin in large, uneven blotches.  Both of his eyes were circled by dark rings, which dripped down to a shadow like smudge which covered his cheeks and nose.  His jaw was badly bruised, as was his forehead and the skin descending down his neck to his collar bone.

Around us the air was filled with harsh whispers, tearing apart his appearance, inch by inch. It didn’t seem to face him, however when a girl across the room let Luke’s name slip through her lips, he tensed, reaching out and grabbing the table until his knuckles turned white.

Taking a shaky breath I turned to look at him.

“Michael.” I said slowly, “Are you okay?”

Glancing over at me he opened his mouth, then deciding against saying whatever he had been going to say, promptly closed it.

“Does it hurt?” I questioned, allowing my eyes to roam his face.

“Not anymore.” He whispered, his voice cracking and giving out towards the end from lack of use, “I’m getting used to it.”

I felt horrible, sitting beside him. My face completely healed apart from a small scar peeping out from my hairline, visible only if you cared enough to look. While he was unrecognizable, a corpse like being straight  out of an episode of the Walking Dead.

“That’s good.” I said awkwardly, unsure of what exactly I was supposed to say.

Nodding, Michael chanced a glance around the room, then looked hurriedly back down at the table finding every eye locked on him, as if waiting for him to put on some sort of show.

“I can’t do this.” He mumbled.

“What?” I questioned, leaning in towards him.

“I can’t do this.” He repeated, only loud enough for me to hear.

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“I need to get out of here.” He said helplessly.

Looking into his eyes my heart broke finding them wide with the sort of helpless terror usually reserved for small children lost in grocery stores.

“He must feel so guilty.”

Whipping my head in the direction of the boy who had spoke I glowered in his direction as Michael sprung to his feet.

“Didn’t anyone tell you not to drink and drive?” the boy asked.

Letting out a child like whimpering sound, Michael turned and ran for the door.

“What is wrong with you?” I demanded, surprising myself as I rose to my feet.

“You mean other then the fact that it wasn’t your fat head that went through the windshield?” he snickered, earning a chorus of giggles.

My breath catching in my throat I balled my hands into fists.

“Don’t you think I wish more than anybody that it was me?” I questioned, disbelief in his audacity, bringing out a side of me I didn’t know I possessed.

“Not more than me.” Lexi spoke up from across the room.

“Or me.” Another girl laughed.

Smirking, the boy who’s name I don’t care enough to know, rose to his feet.

“Everyone that wishes that it was Fat Pratt who kicked the bucket, say I.”

Immediately a chorus of giggled I’s, filled the air.

“Would you look at that.” He chuckled, “It’s unanimous.”

Fighting back tears I turned on my heel and hastily made a beeline for the exit. Pushing the door open I ran out into the hallway however before I could get very far I crashed into someone. Crying out, she fell backwards onto her backside, spilling her mug of coffee all over her white shirt.

“Miss Kit.” I breathed, horrified, “I’m so sorry, I didn’t see you!”

“Fat oaf.” Someone coughed as they passed.

“Katy.” Miss Kit breathed seeming confused, “Where are you going?”

Not wanting to get into the details of the cruel classroom encounter, or why there were tears rolling down my cheeks, I turned and ran out the front doors and down the front steps, stopping only when I heard someone shout, behind me.

Whirling around, I froze finding Michael pinned against the brick wall of the school, the front of his shirt clutched tightly in Calum’s fist.