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ALAINA AND JACK had their backs pressed against the trunk of the tree, shoulders brushing against one another, as the other girls conversed behind them. Janice, Nancy and Carol all shared a picnic blanket between them, books resting on their laps, while Kate, Tierney and Linda all ran around Sister Charlotte with wide grins and innocent laughter. The lady quickly sat them down before shoving books into their hands.
"You never told me what that bell was about," the brunette began, turning her head and pressing it back against the bark of the tree to get a better look at the boy. She kept her voice hushed so the others wouldn't listen into their conversation, although, she was well aware of the danger of her prying. "I don't mean to be nosey but that bell-"
"No, I get it . . . I was the same," he smiled softly, gently nudging her shoulder with his own. "I've never really seen her, Mrs Mullins I mean. She uses the bell if she needs something. I've wanted to look, Mr Mullins has caught me snooping around his room a few times, but I stopped when he told me the basis of it all. I felt terrible afterwards."
Alaina gulped, letting him continue on regardless. "I don't know what caused it, I guess like a burn or something, but there was an accident a few years after Annabelle passed and . . . I don't know, the right side of her face was scarred. That could be the same accident that left her bed-bound but, yeah, I'm really not sure. I didn't ask, Sam already seemed annoyed that he had to explain it in the first place."
Alaina's face settled. "So, you've never seen her?" She asked sadly, her eyes falling down to look at her fingers fidgeting in her lap. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him shake his head.
"No, never. By the way Sam talks about her, I don't think she'd want me to ever see her," he dismissed quietly, plucking at the small, rare tufts of grass by his spread out legs. The girl sighed, nodding nevertheless, as she moved her sight back to look up at the tree above them.
After a few moments of silence between them, the sound being filled with a truck pulling away in the distance, Jack found a new, reoccurring topic springing to mind. As Alaina focused on Mr Mullins and his truck driving away from the house, down the dirt road the group of girls had travelled for hours on only two days beforehand, the boy with curly hair cleared his throat.
"I was thinking last night," he began, looking up to try and catch the girl's sight. After a moment or two he did, Alaina looking over with raised brows of interest - a sign that she was listening, like always. "My dad always had something against this house."
"I don't understand," she whispered confusingly, shaking her head as she carefully pulled her head away from the trunk of the tree. She could feel the knots in her hair, the wood ripping out lone strand of the brunette curls, but she couldn't care less. Jack was speaking, that was what she cared about.
He gulped, his eyes flicking down to the ground for a second to sort through his powering thoughts, before he finally met her gaze once more. "He refused to step foot in the house . . . he never let me in there either, and sometimes, I remember like once or twice, he ran out of the shed."
Alaina's eyes widened, quickly catching on. "No," she muttered with disbelief. He only nodded.
"He rarely allowed me here, and if I did come, I was never to go inside. Mr Mullins invited us in all the time but he always declined before I could answer. It could be for another reason, but . . ."
"No, no, Jack," Alaina began, shifting in her spot to cross her legs and face him. "We've talked about this, you know something's happening, and I know what you're saying, whether you believe it yourself or not.
"Did your dad have a diary or something? Anything that he might've written in, about whatever is happening around here?" Alaina asked. Jack's sight fell again, his eyes landing on the yellow checkered skirt the brunette was wearing that ended just above her knees with furrowed brows.
"No- no, he wasn't the reading or writing type, he was the doing . . . which is what I don't get," Jack trailed off, his voice growing quieter and quieter as he fell deeper into thought. Alaina frowned, reaching across her lap for his hand. She held it in both of her own, watching as his eyes instantly cleared and landed on their laced fingers.
He glanced up at her with tinted cheeks, only coming to find her eyes soft with patience like they always were. She was always so understanding with him, which he realised he never spoke of how much he appreciated it, but it was because of her distraction. She, in herself, distracted him more than he liked to admit.
The curly-haired boy's eyes deepened in meaning. "Lain, have I ever said how beautiful your-"
"Jack," Alaina cut him off with an amused smile, her cheeks growing red nonetheless. "What don't you understand?"
He shook himself out of it with wide eyes. "Right, sorry, um- what was I saying?"
"How he did things rather than wrote them down," the brunette responded, her blush subsiding but her giddy smile remaining the same. She brushed her thumb over his hand comfortingly, but he only furrowed his brows deeper.
"Stop doing that," he whispered quietly, eyes focused on the distance over her shoulder. Alaina only furrowed her brows with confusion.
"Stop doing what?" She asked.
"Doing that thing with your thumb, it distracts me," he said softly, no anger present in his tone. Once again, she flushed a deep red, making sure she held her thumb still as his hand tightened in her hold.
"Um- my dad, he- he did things, like, actually went through with his thoughts rather than dwelled on them. It just, it gets me when I think of how scared he was, and yet he still didn't step foot in that house. It makes me worried because-" his eyes flicked back up to hers "-it makes me think of how bad this thing must be."
Alaina gulped, only staring, as Jack's frown deepened. He sighed, dropping his head guiltily. "I'm sorry for scaring you."
"No, no, don't say sorry," she rushed, shuffling forward while tightening her hold on his hand. "I'm not- I'm not scared." He looked over at her, raising his brows with disbelief and amusement. "Okay, maybe I'm a little scared."
They both stifled their laughs as they gradually fell into another round of silence. "Do that thing with your thumb again," he whispered, causing the brunette to glance over. His eyes were closed shut, chin tilted towards the sky covered by the leaves of the tree he was leaning against.
"I thought it distracted you?" She hummed teasingly.
"Exactly, and you're my favourite distraction," he whispered, and so after pulling herself out of her fluster, she rubbed her thumb gently along his hand.
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