Bitter

thirty-one - lydia

   He was waiting by the dumpster, apparently for me, when I had arrived at school on Monday. With his black backpack slung over his shoulder, West sauntered up to me (even though I was clearly trying to avoid eye contact with him), and grinned like he'd just won the lottery. "How was your weekend, Lydia?" he asked, sidling up next to me as I walked towards the side doors of the school. My name sounded disgusting coming from his mouth, and he wouldn't stop smiling. I just knew he was thinking about drowning Marco.

   Then I remembered, West didn't know I'd helped Cal pull Marco from the water. He probably didn't know I had even gone to Jason's party. And right after that, the memory of me typing my number into Cal's phone on Saturday night resurfaced. It had happened, and the fact West didn't know about that made me relax a little. However, I still hated that he was following so close to me, never leaving me alone. "It was good," I said simply. I didn't provide any more information.

   "Aww, c'mon..." he returned, his voice lazy, "just good?" He then tried to slip his arm around me, but I ducked away from him. I heard him snickering beside me and I desperately wanted to shut him up somehow. I'd do anything to not hear him laughing at me like that.

   So I quickened my pace, and sure enough, he did the same. We had just passed through the doors when he grabbed my arm and jerked me around to face him. We were standing in the busy hallway and I stared him down, his silver glare drilling through me. I yanked my arm forcefully out of his tight, searing grip, eyes never leaving his. I hoped I looked angry enough.

   The corner of West's mouth suddenly quirked upward. "Haven't changed..." he observed, then leaned closer so only I could hear what he said next. "I could be holding my knife right now, just seconds away from killing you and you wouldn't even know," he sneered.

   I reflexively backed away, almost tripping over my own shoes as I glanced down at West's hands, making sure they were empty. This only made him laugh again.

   "I'm kidding, Lydia," he said, his cackling already dying down, "you don't think I'd actually do that, right?" He took a step closer. "Hey, we're all friends here," he told me, spreading his arms wide.

   "I don't think friends run at each other with knives," I muttered, recalling the first day West went crazy on Marco in a random parking lot.

   West chuckled and shook his head. He was wearing a tight smile, like he was just barely containing his temper. "Lydia, I was just scaring him," he lied to himself. "He needed a reminder that I don't just give people things. They pay for them, it's a transaction, and Marco isn't an exception."

   Right, just scaring him. Was he "just scaring" Marco when he'd tried to drown him in the pool? I didn't bring this up. It was better West not know that I had witnessed the murder attempt. I had been equally as concerned about Marco as Cal had been that night, but West didn't have to know that. He shouldn't know that.

   It was at this point that I noticed somebody leaning against the wall, near some lockers. It was Cal about twenty feet from where West and I were standing. His fingers flew across his phone screen, texting somebody most likely. I looked away from him, back at West.

   I could see something dangerous forming in West's mind. The way his eyes narrowed as he stared at me said it all. "We're friends, right Lydia?" He smirked, and I crossed my arms as if a chilly wind blew through the halls. There was just something about West that made you feel cold and trapped. "Let's say," he began, "we put our past behind us. Forget it all, okay?" He dismissed everything that had happened at Landon away with his hand, like it was that simple.

   I knew there was something he wasn't telling me. West always had a reason for the things he did. "What do you want?" I got right to the point.