Picking Daisies (Book #1, Emily's story)

Chapter Two

I hate lunch. Too many people to look at. Too many people that have better lives, or at least a life.

I sat at the lunch table I always sat at, the one small, square table in the dark corner.

I sat there with my dark hood over my head and crossed arms that my chin rested on. I watched as people ate their lunches and laughed and talked and did what ever normal ninth graders do.

I'm not normal.

I just got back from sitting in the corner of the library, sliding a little silver blade against my fragile skin. I could feel my sleeves get warm and stick to my skin.

I watched as people tried to sneak little glances at me, I caught every single one. I got out my little blade and started to carve more designs next to the ones that I have carved from past days, into the table.

"That's beautiful." A voice said from the end of the table. My dull gray eyes looked up from under my black hood to meet life full green ones. I just nodded.

The boy sat across from me with his lunch tray.

I could feel stares from all over, even more added when he slid his tray over to me. I sat up straight from my slouching position and my back popped a bit. I just stared at it.

"My name is Jazz." He smiled. I blinked. "Do you have a name?" I nodded. "Can you tell me?" I shook my head. I have never talked to anyone in forever, I don't even know if I have a voice anymore. "Please?"

I sighed and pointed to one of the carvings that had my name hidden in it. Disguised with flowers and butterflies because I wanted to feel pretty.

"Emily?" He asked. Jazz saw my name. He could see it. I nodded. "Beautiful name." He smiled again. "Can you eat?" He nudged at the tray. I nodded my head. "Will you eat?" I shook my head. Jazz sighed.

I looked down at my hands that where now in my lap and notices my ribs seeking out. I can't remember my last meal.

"I'll be right back." Jazz stood up and walked away from my table. I should have known. This was one of those sick tricks. I closed my eyes as I heard kids laugh and whisper. I kept my tears in to show they don't hurt me anymore. They really do.

They really, really do.

I heard a light tap in front of me and I opened my eyes. Jazz was back in the same seat but I had a little box of bandaids in front of me. I gave him a confused look. He didn't leave me? Why? Is he getting paid by a sick boy to stay with me and embarrass me? God, why can't you just get this joke over with? It isn't worth his time. I'm not worth anyone's time.

Jazz rolled his eyes with a tiny smirk on his face. He got up and sat in the chair next to me. I have never been this close to a boy let alone anybody that aren't beating my face in with fist or words.

"Give me an arm." He held out his hand. I backed up slightly. "It's okay. Don't be scared of me." He gave me a warm smile. If this gets it over with...

I gave him my arm and he rolled up the damp sleeve. I didn't look at him but I could see his eyes widen at all the cuts, scars and blood. He put my arm down gently and got a napkin and his water bottle. Jazz leaned over the table and poured the water onto the napkin.

Then he picked my arm back up and ever so carefully dabbed at the cuts. I winced and tried to pull back put he wouldn't budge.

Jazz just sat there and cleaned my cuts off. Then he put the bandages, the ones he put in front of me earlier, on the fresh cuts.

Jazz was helping me.