The Colours of Us

Chapter 7

Friday 20th of October 2023

We were in a reclose area of the library, and Sloan's phone kept ringing. He would always hang up without even looking at the caller ID, and would never stop listening or talking to me. He was giving me his all and entire attention, and it made my heart flutter in delight.

I was about to say something, anything to break the silence, when my phone started to ring. It was unusual, as no one ever called me, and when I saw the caller ID, my heart sank in my stomach.

My mother rarely ever called me, and the only times she did was because she wanted news of Ian who rarely ever called her.

I stood with a sigh, "Let me take this, I'll be back in a moment."

Sloan smiled and nodded, and just as I was leaving, he grabbed his own phone. I went outside the library so as to not bother anyone, and called my mother back.

"Finally, I thought you both had died," she sighed.

"We're both alive and well," I lied, feeling my bruises sting just at the thought of it. "Why are you calling?"

"Your Grandmother died, it would be great if you could convince your brother to come to the burial."

"Can I come too, or am I not invited?" I asked.

My grandmother had never been a good person, but she had been ,my grandmother. She had taught me how to sew, how to spell my name and how to not get Ian too angry. She had probably saved me from being aborted, too. Though I wouldn't have minded not being alive.

"Don't you have classes to take and papers to work on?"

I sighed and pressed my hand to my eyes. "When are the funerals?"

"Next Monday. Don't forget to bring your brother along."

And just like that she had hung up.

My mother was a cold and calculating woman, she didn't need to say much for people to understand what she meant. She didn't want me to come, but wouldn't cause any troubles if I did.

With a sigh, I went back to the library.

I was just about to go to the table where Sloan and I sat to work on the project when I heard his voice rise stronger than the ambient noise of pages turning, breathing and whispering.

"Don't say that," he said. I had no idea who he was talking to. "Char's nice."

I felt my heart tighten in my chest and stepped closer to try and hear the other person, but there was only silence. Was he on the phone with someone?

"Obviously I don't like him," he laughed, "But you know..."

He whispered something I couldn't hear above the sound of my soul breaking into pieces.

Sloan didn't like me. Maybe he didn't even want to be my friend, maybe he didn't even want to get to know me. Was all of this a sick joke to him?

Everything was too much for me. With another sight, I went to the table and found Sloan on the phone. He quickly said his goodbyes and smiled at me, but for once I didn't share his smile. I started to regroup my things.

"Is everything okay?" he asked with a frown.

"My grandma died and you don't like me," I grumbled.

"What?"

"No," I sighed, "I'm too emotionally tired for that. You don't like me, fine, I'll deal with it, but why try to make me believe it? Why try to make me think I was worth anything?"

He looked taken aback, as if I had just insulted his entire family line. "Char, I don't understand what's going on."

"Alright."

I turned around and left the library without looking back at him. I was done trying.