Salty Licorice

Chapter 42

Avery's POV

My game for the scouts is today, I'm looking at my reflection in the mirror in the Locker room. The locker room is empty now since Third period has already started. I slip off my hoodie and shirt to look at my body, trying to think of an excuse as to where all my bruises came from. I hope Coach puts us in the long sleeves today, but that isn't exactly a guarantee. I've been wearing a long sleeve compression shirt during gym and practice to keep my arms covered up. My eye still looks gross but it's easier to cover up with makeup now that it's fading to a gross brown and yellowish color instead of a dark purple and red, plus the swelling has gone down a good bit.

"What happened to you?" Liz's voice breaks me from my inspection of my injuries and I flicker my eyes to meet her through the mirror.

I look down at myself and see the buckle shaped bruise still with its deep discoloration and my slightly fading bruises along my arms pared with scratches. All of it in full view under her worried gaze. Too late trying to cover it all up now, but I still pull my shirt back on to hide myself from her.

She walks up behind me and pulls up the back of my shirt again and runs gentle fingers over the muscles on my back. It's not what's under my skin she's admiring but what's discolored on my skin. I haven't had a good chance to look at my back but I know they're there, I can feel them when I lay down to sleep. It makes it hard to get comfortable, but also makes it hard to breathe at night.

"Who did this to you?" She asks me, letting go of my shirt and let gravity take it the rest of the way to hang loose off my back.

"It doesn't matter," I muster, walking away from her pulling my hoodie over my head only to feel my breath escape my lungs too abruptly as I put pressure on my back with my arms over my head.

I'm gonna have to force all the pain out of my head for the game tonight, if I have any shot at getting that scholarship I desperately need. Without these scouts' knowledge, they have become my last life line, last hope. I need this if I'm ever to escape them, escape him.

"Who did this Avery," She demands.

"Just leave it alone would you?" I snapped at her turning to look at her in the face for the first time seeing hurt and concern fighting over her facial features. "Just stop."

"Why wont you tell me?"

"Because it's nothing you need to worry about," I growl feeling myself getting defensive, but over what I'm not sure. "It's my business to deal with."

"Fine," She simply says, before she walks away from me.

I groan and kick the lockers after I hear the door bang shut. I kick a random locker again and again and again till I feel my muscles slowly start to ache and notice a dent the size of my sneaker on the locker door. I groan again at the damage I cause from my anger, why can't I keep my brain calm. I feel myself getting angry at just the idea of how people view me as in a list of names i've been called, hot headed dumb jock, a loose canon, a temperamental rabid dog, great value Bruce Banner, I've even been called a Bull and have had people wave anything red in front of me before to see if I charge. I might not recognize all my emotions but I know anger all too well. I'm just so angry about so much that it gets difficult to keep it all under control.

I'm mad at my parents, the church, rumors about my brother, having to hide what I am from the world except a small few, how I'm basically failing English if not for Marisa, Wescott, my morning alarm clock, loud chewing, whistling, scary movies, Emily's country music, even dumb drivers on the road. But the one thing that pisses me off the most is myself, and I don't know how to not be angry anymore.

I take a deep breath trying to calm my buzzing nerves, and my racing thoughts. I grab my bag off the floor by my locker and walk out of the locker room heading for the lunch. As I get closer I hear the clatter and noise coming from those open doors and hesitate to walk through feeling my breathing elevate slightly just as the thought of walking into that room full of people I'd rather avoid. So that's what I do, I go to the art room instead and hide out in the clay room. Feeling comforted by the smell of clay and drying paint, reminding me of Marisa and feeling a little more at peace.