Identity [ON HIATUS]

10. 'Daisy', She Calls.

"Daisy!" My name was called constantly these days; the mailman, the shop keeper down the street from my house, my mom, and now Sarah.

She squeezed me tight the moment she saw me, almost crushing the black hoodie I swiped from Rose's dresser. I had changed since I'd seen her, not just in mind, but physically. I was thinner, sharper lines, sharper bones. I had bags, big bags, under my eyes, and I didn't give a shit about my face or my hair, I let it lay dirty blonde and limp at either sides of my head. Sarah looked me up and down, trying to find the words to say next, but instead, went in for another hug. The second time, I actually hugged back.

"I'm glad you're back. I mean...I'm glad you're OK...although I know you're not- I mean...shit." She resolved, clutching my hand and guiding me through the sea of students that parted for me like the red sea. They looked me up and down too, but this time not in sympathy; in morbid curiosity.

"It's good to be back." I mumbled eventually after she looked back at me, worried that I wasn't speaking.

"I got all the homework you missed for you. All your teachers said you don't have any deadlines, just do them when you're ready. They didn't want to give you any but you know; rules are rules."

"Its fine Sarah, thanks." I mustered up a smile for her, before pressing my back against the locker next to hers. She handed me piles and piles of work, past papers, pop quizzes, the weight of them making my knees buckle slightly. "I was only gone two weeks!"

"We're seniors now; we get a lot of work." She shrugged, helping me shift the papers from my hands and into my locker near hers.

"Daisy?"

The last paper was flung into my locker as I whipped round to stare at Liam. He stood there, tall and stocky like a tree, looking down at me. I thought about his curly writing on the card, about why he'd written it like that. I nervously tucked some stray hairs behind my ear.

"I'm so sorry for your loss." He looked sincere, gingerly touching my arm for some kind of emotional support. I didn't watch him do it, and just nodded. "It's been weird not having you around, I'll admit. I'm glad you're back." He left me and Sarah without a second glance, and just for that moment, all my troubles seemed to melt away. My shoulder felt numb and my tongue swollen, unable to speak.

He'd spoken to me before, of course he had, in art club or in class, but I'd never heard him be so worried about me before, like he cared. It was strange, knowing he'd thought about me when I wasn't there; I was on his mind.

But while it felt like an important moment, grief doesn't work that way.

Sarah saw me resume my usual position; slouched shoulders, hands in pockets, eyes to the floor, and slung an arm around me after closing both our lockers.

"It's been weird not having you around. Did you hear that? You genuinely made an impact!"

And all it took was my sister dying.

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