Constant Recovery

Dedicated To Lexey

 

            I went through my day normally up until lunch. I was sitting with my friends at our usual table. Cassie wasn’t wearing long sleeves for once and Jaime pointed it out to us.

            “Hey Cassie, what happened to your arm?” Jaime asked Cassie, looking at the scars on her left forearm. He snickered some while he said it and I didn’t understand why.

            “Oh, um, my cat scratched me,” she replied, stuttering nervously. She looked up at us and then back down at her food. The red clashed with her olive skin. She ran her fingers lightly over the dark, red lines that went up her arm. She looked down at the scars and her dark, wavy, black hair covered her face. She looked up and her brown eyes glistened as she picked the skin off of her rosy, red lips. It was a nervous habit she had.

            Vic and I shrugged off the comment, but Jaime and Cassie didn’t appear to. They made eye contact for a few moments. They sat, staring into each other’s dark brown eyes. They didn’t flinch or move and they didn’t blink. It looked like they were communicating. They abruptly stopped when Vic asked a question about the Spanish homework. We didn’t understand why he was confused, both Vic and Jaime were of Hispanic decent and spoke Spanish on a daily basis.

            While Vic was talking, Cassie and Jaime made eye contact again. Their eyes got bigger and Jaime’s eyebrows rose. They looked like kids in a candy store, except without the smile. Jaime’s eyes became full of sorrow and Cassie’s with guilt.

            After lunch, I stopped Vic in the hallway. His long, dark brown hair cascaded his face.

            “Vic,” I said sternly.

            “What?” Vic whined. He sounded like a small child.

            “Did you notice Jaime and Cassie at lunch? They kept making eye contact right after he asked about her arm. It looked like they were communicating,” I explained everything I had witnessed.

            “Delany, what are you talking about? Have you eaten today?” he teased me playfully, feeling my forehead with the back of his hand.

            “Victor, I’m being serious,” I shooed away his hand.

            “Laney, why do you have to call me Victor?” he sounded agitated. He hated it when people called him by his actual name.

            “Vic, that doesn’t matter right now. There are more important things to worry about.”

            “I still don’t understand what happened at lunch,” he said genuinely.

            “You’re so oblivious!” I shouted, storming off to class. Vic was no help.

            The next day in between classes, Heather Smith bullied Cassie. Heather had something against Cassie, but we never knew why. Heather ran into Cassie, knocking her small, frail body onto the hard, tile floor. Cassie winced in pain.

            “Whoops, sorry about that,” Heather giggled with her posse. I helped Cassie onto her feet while she brushed herself off and I picked up her stuff that was now scattered all over the floor.

            “It’s a shame you had to run your mouth, Heather. At least I have real friends. What goes up must come down, right?” Cassie challenged Heather while wearing a smug face.