No More Lies, I Promise - The Watty Awards 2011

No More Lies, I Promise - Chapter 8

I bumped into a blonde girl in the corridor, and I mumbled an apoligy automatically. But she turned to look at me, glare at me. Her eyes flicked up slightly.

"Man your hair looks bad today."

I flipped back at her. "Man your face looks bad today."

She smiled, her lips curling into something as fake as the make up plastered over her cheeks. "Do you want a slap?"

I smiled back with the same sarcasm. "Come on then."

Without her group, I knew she wouldn't be brave enough to do anything to me. She wouldn't, right?

But her smile was still in place. "Don't worry, babe, you'll get it later. I've just got to talk to Dylan right now." She stepped closer. "Don't even think about it," she hissed, then turned her head and left me. I didn't think anymore of it until, after a few seconds of rifling through the things in my bag looking for my money, a gentle hand tapped me on the shoulder. I turned, a little warily, to look at the person behind me. But it wasn't who I thought it was. It shocked me; Why was he here?

"I thought you were with that girl," I couldn't remember her name. I didn't bother pay attention to what they were called; it didn't matter. They weren't worth it.

"I avoided her," Dylan laughed, smiling down at me with a look I rarely got. Friendship.

I smiled back, but then realized I shouldn't really be talking to him after all the threats given to me over this boy. After a second, I looked away from his perfect face, and down into my bag.

"I've got to go," I murmured, but my voice clashed with his.

"Are you okay?" I nodded, still not daring to meet his eyes. I couldn't lie when his eyes bent my will. I knew that now. When lying to him, don't look him in the eyes. I hadn't found it this difficult to lie before. What was he doing to me?

"I've got to go," I repeated, my point being made by the girls wandering down the corridoor. Those girls.

I turned on my heel and walked quickly away, but I knew they'd seen me talking to him. It wasn't a question of if, but when I would take the consequences.

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Of course this would happen. Why did I think I could still talk to Dylan without getting hurt? Why did I, for once, let my guard down? Of course there was consequences - there always was.

I trudged into my house, my soaking wet shoes, trousers and school top all scraping against my sore body, the wet fabric clinging to my body.

I was drenched. The morning rain had settled into large puddles, the sodden ground littered with them. It just happened that I fell into one. Was pushed into one. Was hit so hard that I fell backwards into one.

I opened the front door and flicked on the light in the dark hall. Trudging up the stairs, my feet squelched in my shoes. I dumped my muddy bag at the door to my room, and went inside, already pulling the sticky jumper over my head.

I changed quicky out of my school uniform into my jeans and hoodie, dumping my wet school uniform in the bathroom, grabbing a towel from the rack as I passed it on the way back downstairs.

Finn had heard me come in and was waiting at the bottom of the stairs, a wave of confusion on his face. "Hey, are you alright?" I rubbed the towel through my hair and wiped my face. "I thought it stopped raining before lunch. Why are you so...?" He stopped, looking for the right word.

"Thats the thing about being powerless," I sighed, "You get pushed around a lot."

Both of our heads turned at the same time to the front door; the doorbell sounding and echoing down the hall. I looked back at Finn. After a second, he turned towards the stairs. He climbed half way up before I paused him. "Let me just see who it is."

Pulling open the door, I got my first glimpse of my visitor. My heart began to beat fast in my chest. What was he doing here?

His dark eyes flicked up from the floor, looking at me through his black hair. His hands stayed in the pockets of his school trousers as he stood a little away from the door. His mouth opened and I waited for an explanation. But there was an awkward pause as he didn't say anything, then he closed his mouth, waiting for me to break the ice

"What are you doing here?" I asked, breaking through the awkward barrier between us.

He looked like he was going to say something else, but then he stepped closer to me. My heart lept in my chest as his mesmerising eyes locked with mine. He was slightly taller than me,and my eyes were level with his lips. I tore my eyes away them and back up to his midnight eyes.

"Are you okay?" He asked, his eyes deadly serious.

"Mmmhmm," I nodded, frowning. "I'm okay."

I didn't feel I was okay. He didn't look convinced either. Was I that easy to read? Like a book?

Dylan shook his head and stepped back slightly, turning to the side as he did so. "Do you, erm, want to come with me? I just want to talk to you... We could go to the park?"

I didn't really know what to say. The most popular boy in my year was asking me to come out and talk to him? I had no idea what to say. What could I say? I didn't want to be rude, and I really did want to talk to him... Surely I should've learned my lesson by now? But I guessed I hadn't, because I grabbed my coat off the hook by the front door, called "bye!" up the hall, and closed the door behind me. He was a mystery to me, and I felt the need to figure him out. So much so that I was risking it again.

"I shouldn't really be with you," I sighed, shrugging on my coat.

I watched his head cock to the side and his brow crumple. "Why?"

"Because of her- I mean, because of Jessica."

Dylan shook his head. "They really need to get a grip. Why do they pick on you so much?"

I didn't want to explain, so I just replied with the usual. "I don't know."

This time there was no way to get away from him. He pulled me to a stop, and I stupidly glanced up into his eyes. And, with one look, I was putty in his hands.

"You don't have to lie to me, Amy," he whispered. "It's okay. You can trust me, I won't hurt you."

And because I had no other choice, I replied with words I thought I could never say. "No more lies... I promise."

And as we began to walk again, I told him everything, because I didn't know what else to do. I told him everything I could. I told him everything I was, everything I could be. I told him everything they had done to me, everything I felt while they hit me, when they set fire to me, when they called me names in the corridoor. I told him about my dad and Jessica's mum, told him why she hated me. And he listened to everything I had to say, and didn't comment. He just let me talk and talk until my voice was so choked with tears that I couldn't say another word.

We were sat on the bench we had came to while I had talked. Tears stained my jumper and streaked down my face. Although people say that telling others your problem lifts weight from your shoulders, I couldn't feel it.

I rubbed my face with my sleave. "I'm sorry you have to put up with me. With this," I sniffled, my voice cracking. But still Dylan said nothing. Instead, his arm slipped around my back and the other one around my waist. He pulled my slouched body into his protective hold. And, despite my frantic pulse and red face, I felt safe. Calmer.

I felt, for once, that things could only get better.