PROPERTY OF A. KENDRICK

Entry 55

A/N: Heads-up: Sometimes Vincent swears.

October 26

Today there was only one glance, in the class that Vincent and I shared but Henry and I didn't. Vincent wore a more serious expression than I was used to seeing in him, but I don't know what it meant. Then he passed me a note that said to meet in the town library, the same place I was seven Saturdays ago, at five o'clock today. So I guess he was the boy who saw me there.

In the chaos that comes when the bell rings, I brushed past him and pushed my reply note into his hand. I got a weird sort of thrill from getting away with it.

I went to the library straight after picking Liota up. We were about 45 minutes early, but I didn't see a point in going home for such a short while.

Vincent was about a half hour late. I was getting antsy about it, wondering if Henry had somehow found out about the meeting, or if perhaps it had been a set-up the whole time, something to punish me for lying to Henry and trying to make friends with people even though I shouldn't bring them down to my level. Either way, that wasn't really something I should be doing. Vincent was a good boy, a cool boy. He didn't need someone like me dragging him down.

I would've left if there wasn't also the possibility that Vincent had just gotten caught up in something. What would happen if he came all the way to the library just to find that I wasn't here? I had no way to contact him, so he wouldn't know why I wasn't here until school tomorrow. Even if he didn't worry, it would still be a waste of his time. And I didn't really have anything better to do anyway.

Vincent finally arrived at the library at 5:45. He was panting, like he'd run here. A couple of the patrons looked at him with distain.

"Sorry 'm late," he managed. Then I noticed that he was actually in pretty bad shape! His lip was split open, there was a bruise forming on his temple, and a patch of his messy brown hair was stained with dark red. And on top of that, when I looked down I saw that one of his pant legs had been torn at the knee and his knuckles were all bloody—which he'd apparently tried to wipe off on his pants.

"Oh my god, you're all beat up! What happened?!" I jumped up and squatted in front of him, wanting to help, but not sure what to do. Vincent laughed, and several people sent glares his way. I glared right back before I could help myself and they looked away quickly.

"Ya shoulda seen the other guys!" Vincent grinned, then plopped himself down on the floor. "An' I even woulda been on time, 'cept one of those ass-shits got me with a 2-by. Knocked me clean out. Guess they thought I was dead or somethin', cuz they just left me there. Anyway, really sorry I'm late!" Vincent clapped his hands in front of his face and gave me a sheepish grin.

"I—no, what... shouldn't you... get that cleaned up?" I gestured at... well, all of him.

"Nah." He waved a hand. "I heal real quick. And anyway, I've had worse."

"I'm sorry." I didn't know what else to say. Vincent leaned back on his arms and raised an eyebrow at me.

"What for?"

"Well, you're hurt." I glanced away.

"It's not your fault. No reason for you to apologize for it." I looked back to see him looking at me with his serious expression again. It looked weird on him and made me uncomfortable. I looked away again and started fiddling with the bottom of my shirt. "Eh, fine." Vincent stood up. "Come with me while I clean up and I'll tell ya why I called this meetin'."

I followed him into the bathroom. While Vincent was washing his hands, I wet a paper towel and started cleaning the blood out of his hair.

He smiled at me. "I think we should be friends."

I nearly dropped the paper towel, but I caught it with shaking hands and took a step back. My heart was hammering in my chest. I couldn't speak. Vincent glanced at me out of the corner of his eyes, then looked away, turning off the water.

"I know what I'm getting into, Arawn." He dried his hands on another paper towel, then turned his full attention to me. I felt like I was drowning in his green eyes, eyes that held no malice, only sympathy and understanding. I turned away, clutching my head.

"No, you don't! Henry likes you, Vincent! He wants you in his group! You can't throw away that opportunity for trash like me!" I shuddered, but pushed it down. I couldn't cry here. I told myself I wasn't going to do that again.

"You're not trash!" Vincent grabbed me and spun me around so I was facing him again. He looked angry. Great, I'd screwed up again. I squeezed my eyes shut.

"I'm sorry, I am! I can't... I can't do anything right, Vincent! I'm clumsy and I screw up and I'm slow and I... I..." I was crying now. Again. Right after I'd told myself I wouldn't. "S-sometimes it feels like... like everyone in the world is following a s-set of rules, that I don't know! S-something they were born with that just... got left out of me. I'm broken, Vincent. I... can't... I can't."

Vincent rested his chin on my head. I think he understood that I didn't like it when people touched my back, because he held his hands still behind my shoulders. He held me in silence until I calmed down a bit. Then he spoke.

"You know... you don't throw away a toaster 'cause it can't cook a turkey." I gave him a funny look. He shrugged. "Well, you don't. And you don't throw away a microwave 'cause it can't make decent toast."

"You can't cook turkey in the microwave either," I sniffed, feeling contrary.

He scowled. "So? It depends on the turkey. And it's not important! The point is, people have different purposes in life. And if something isn't somebody's purpose, then who cares if they can do it or not? It doesn't matter." I wiped my eyes and furrowed my brows at him as he unwrapped his arms from my shoulders and set his hands on them instead. "What I'm saying is, you need to give yourself a chance to discover your purpose. You have so much potential, Arawn. I can see it. And..." He paused, his eyes searching mine. "I guarantee I'm not the only one."

"How do you know?"

"Well, for one you're named after the Welsh king of the otherworld, so you're pretty much destined for greatness." He grinned at me. My laugh sounded watery.

"And who are you named after, Vincent?" He wrinkled his nose.

"Eh, who knows. Y'know, I actually don't really like that name. How 'bout ya call me 'Vinni'? It can be a special nickname 'tween us, like how I'm the only one who actually knows how ta pronounce yer name." I gave him a deadpan stare.

"Liota knows." He rolled his eyes.

"Fine, Liota can call me 'Vinni', too."

We spent another hour hanging out at the library after Vinni got cleaned up. Neither of us brought up anything we'd said in the bathroom, except to reintroduce him as Vinni to Liota, who just gave us a look and went back to reading about mummification.

When we left the library, I felt so much lighter. I thought about what Vinni'd said all the way home, and I'm still thinking about it now. It... I don't really get it. But it feels like something's gotten loose in my mind and is eating up all the thoughts that used to make me sad.