Bleeding Smile

SIX

__________

Teller tucked his index in the empty space between the bracelet Mom made me and my wrist, tugging curiously. "What does it mean exactly?"

We were sitting on the edge of the boardwalk at Willowmere Creek as the sun was beginning to set one August afternoon. I'd returned from a rigorous cheerleading practice with the squad at Anya's house and Teller had texted me to meet him at our tree as soon as I'd dropped my duffle.

I hadn't even bothered changing, and so I still had on my blue Elk Point High Cheerleading uniform while he wore the tan button-up and navy slacks from the preparatory school he attended near Fort Collins. It was his mother's alma mater, and on account of how badly the town treated her, she'd never allowed him to attend our schools; thus Teller had been home-schooled up until he started junior high.

The shallow water flowing beneath us glistened with the final rays of the sun, and I recalled feeling indescribably happy to simply be there, seated next to him in the vast openness that somehow distracted me from my worries regarding Dad's health more than glittering pom poms and High-Vs ever could.

I watched Teller play with the blue, gold, black, and red patterned yarn of my wristband.

"It means a lot of things, but the colors represent the Comanche tribe that Mom's native to," I explained. "She doesn't have her family anymore so she made Dad and I one each, because we're her 'little tribe'." I smiled fondly at the memory. "Since I've had mine ever since I was little, I just like it because it brings me comfort, you know?"

"Makes sense." Teller briefly nodded in thought, and then his expression fell and gaze grew unfocused, and it was a little bit unsettling how I could physically see his mind wandering somewhere he didn't want it to be.

Teller wasn't ever keen on discussing his own family. There was an uncomfortable mystery regarding his real father and it seemed like he was always in the outs with his Stepdad. The only time he ever reported good news was either when they went hunting or shooting, which Teller had developed a natural proclivity to.

I had assumed the dead Dark-eyed Junco was disturbing enough until he started showing me snared squirrels and gutted jackrabbits and excessively marred mourning doves.

I remembered Mom's concerned pause over dinner when I'd accidentally brought up Teller's hobby and his volunteering to teach me how to shoot.

Though hunting was common, Mom didn't think Teller's fascination and skill was, especially when there weren't any Elk Point High kids spending hours and hours in the forest, patiently waiting to slaughter unsuspecting prey.

"Hey," I nudged Teller's arm, and he eventually came back from wherever his mind had been. "Are you coming to my birthday party in October?"

He rubbed the back of his neck. "Leslie, I don't know..." I could tell he wanted to make up excuses; it hadn't been the first time I'd asked, and ever since I'd explained how grand of a scale it would be, he'd been very dodgy about it.

Me and Danielle, Mayor Prescott's daughter, were both turning 16, and Dad had pulled in a favor to orchestrate a joint birthday bash at the Mayor's Mansion.

Naturally, practically every kid from EPH would be in attendance, but Teller still wasn't warming up to the idea of being around so many of my school friends after his near-brawl with Danielle's brother at the town fair.

James Prescott, who was older than us yet seemed to always get it in his head that Teller was a formidable opponent due to his height, had almost gotten into an actual altercation with Teller after some very distasteful words were said about Teller's mother; vile rumors that had begun circulating that he would never know his real father because his Mom, back in her day, had been sleeping around with every man in town, whether they were married or not.

It was said that Amelia Teller was a raging nymphomaniac who was ultimately shunned into isolation, that her illness was all an elaborate and desperate ruse; a final plea for sympathy.

I knew that wasn't the case, that, according to Teller, his Mom suffered from a very real anxiety disorder, however, no one really cared about the truth when it came to inciting a reaction out of him.

It didn't usually work, and he typically disregarded it without much of a second thought, but as time passed, and as it became radicalized in endless variations, I could see Teller growing more and more resentful of Elk Point's residents, I could sense his hatred for them brewing behind his cold gaze whenever we weren't at one of our isolated hangout spots.

It was as if he was truly detested by not just their actions, but their very being, their very existence, and I vividly recalled my biggest fear being more and more the idea of ever being regarded as just one of them by Teller.