I Want Him Back...

I Want Him Back... - Part 9

"Need another lift, Bel?" Jack joked as he pulled up next to her and Maggie outside of the school. It was just easier this way, for Belinda at least, and it gave Maggie someone to walk to and from school with, seeing as Jack gave Belinda a ride. It also meant Belinda was never late, and she had someone to talk to before the bell sounded, signalling hours of mindless 'teaching'. Belinda often referred to it as torture, gaining that appreciative snort from Jack that showed he understood.

But today Belinda looked haunted, even to Maggie who had only ever known a haunted Belinda until recently. Belinda had come in to wake Maggie, her eyes red and bags beneath them. There had been no trace of tears but Maggie was sure that Belinda had lain awake and cried last night. And so, she was reluctant to let her go into school, to face a horde of people who didn't understand.

"Thanks Jack," Belinda said tiredly, climbing up. Maggie's hand reached up and clasped hers briefly, her tiny face full of worry. "Don't worry Mags, I haven't fallen off yet. I doubt I'll start today." She leaned forward, balancing precariously to whisper, "It's okay, honest. I'll be okay, I promise."

And with that promise she nudged Jack, commenting on the time. And Belinda could feel Maggie's eyes on her back all the way to the corner of the street. It was a tremendous relief, almost palpable in it's intensity. She was sure Jack felt the tension melt away from her. He wasn't the dumbest guy around, certainly, and she knew that he could tell when she was stressed and when she wasn't.

Pondering that thought, she let it run away, like a mischievous train, building it's own tracks. Sometimes I think we're on the same wave length, she thought. It's like...I don't know, like he's...and then there are those times, when he's watching me... The thoughts just spun in a direction all their own as the short but comfortable ride ended.

Jack was watching her with an unfathomable expression, his face scrunched with worry. He knew it wasn't like her to cry, not when she could be seen. And it was true that she hadn't cried where he could see. But...he would have known without the red eyes, or the sombre mood in front of the primary school. Belinda knew he would have, the same way she would have known if he had been hurt. His expression may be indecipherable, but all his eyes held was concern.

Belinda waited for him to try to broach the subject so she could claim it off limits, but he seemed to already know that this was something he shouldn't ask her about. At least not yet. His eyes shifted - although they remained concerned - and he started the chatter with harmless topics, easy jokes lightening the mood perceptibly. Belinda responded eagerly, the topics kept firmly on no-mans-land until they had to separate.

Even then, it was on good terms, only the promise of seeing her at lunch tying her down. The parting wasn't marred by the usual feeling that Belinda had lost a leg instead of a friend leaving for lessons. It must be the new optimism, she thought. Her good mood lasted a predictable three minutes. That was how long it took for the teacher to stop talking and Emma to get her claws in. Belinda had known it would be a bad day, but she had not expected it to get as bad as that. Everything was going to wrong today, she realised, the realisation bringing only a mild surprise.

The shock from yesterday had melted and given way to depression, which led to self-pity that eventually led to an epiphany of sorts: nothing she could do would make her life worse. But, she thought fiercely, I can always turn it. Whatever happens, I can do my damnedest to get in the way and fix it. She was concentrating so hard on this that she only tuned into the last part of Emma's little rant.

"...so stay away! Do you hear me?"

"Um, actually? No, I didn't catch a word of that," Belinda said easily, tilting back on her chair, looking bored. The bored part came naturally, the small workings of Emma Hawton dulling her senses immeasurably. "So if you want me to hear you, try again."

"You little bi-"

"Miss Hawton," the teacher, Mr Gale, interrupted. "Miss Godfrey. Care to share your thoughts with the rest of the class? Or is there something you would like to discuss with me after class?"

"Oh, I'm sorry Mr Gale," Emma said, simpering. "Belinda just wouldn't be quiet, so I was telling her-"

"I heard what you were telling her, Miss Hawton," he replied, his expression mirroring Belinda's from a moment ago. "And I very much doubt that this Jack person appreciates you warning his friends away. Regardless, I would prefer it if you weren't distracting my class with your social problems."

Emma flushed red and Belinda bit back the giggles that were threatening to ensue. The rest of their classmates had no apparent restraint as the uproar took five minutes to calm. But Belinda didn't miss the should-have-been deadly look the Emma shot her. Great, she thought. Now I'm going to have to deal with her again later. Fun. But instead of rising to the bait now, she decided to let Emma stew for a little while. To come up with something really creative to get back at Belinda with, just to relieve the boring monotony Emma seemed to emit unconsciously.

"Yes sir," Emma, so quietly it was almost inaudible. The humiliation was something she wouldn't forget, if nothing else. That made the morning, instantly more tolerable for Belinda. She hadn't really cared from the beginning what Emma was going to do, but now she was positively buzzing from the thought of dealing with it, from dealing with something on her own, without a knight in shining armour.

All the way through the day, Belinda could feel the tension building. Even when Emma was out of the classroom, Belinda knew she was plotting and scheming. Sometimes, the image of Emma in a dungeon, a cauldron in the middle of the room in which a potion was brewing, flew across Belinda's mind, almost making her giggle out loud. It was ridiculous, of course, to think of Emma as a witch but it made a good joke.

She wouldn't make a very good witch, Belinda thought distantly. The idea slipped away like the ebbing of a tide and she didn't much care. She was beginning to think that ideas that didn't stay, weren't meant to be caught yet. Eventually, the thought would come back and she could pursue it then. Until then, she would entertain herself with cartoonish images of Emma in the margins of her work. One was of Emma stomping her foot, something beneath it.

Odd, she thought. I don't remember drawing that one... Even as she watched, the drawing seemed alive, moving on it's own. Captivated, Belinda watched as the Emma in the picture picked up the thing beneath her foot and threw it at another figures head. Belinda could almost hear the soft splat as it made contact with the figure and then Emma's figure doubled over in laughter. The laughter seemed to ring in Belinda's ears, other people's echoing it. Then the picture vanished and the word 'sorry' flashed before the space went blank, save for the usual lines.

And that was when Belinda started to worry about lunch time.

[Thanks to the fans, and the people who are starting to read anyway ^_^ Comments are appreciated and taken either in good humour or seriously, depending on what you leave. I won't harm anyone for leaving mean comments as long as it's constructive for me ^_^. Thanks again!]