fractures

the dam

Layne

I was too rash, I realise, a side effect of my desperation, during the little confrontation with Gwyneth. Now, Gwyneth seems more determined to keep her vow of silence, not even sparing me a glance whenever she walks by.

Not like I care.

If Gwyneth isn't going to give me answers, I'll just have to find them myself. Even if it does take forever.

And after I took the time and thought and thought and thought about what and why she said what she did before she left, there was one question burning in my mind. What right did Gwyneth have to question my need to know the truth? I'm Marlene's best friend, for goodness sake! What right does she have to withhold the truth from me?

Angrily, I slam my locker door shut. This earns a few glances from other students walking past.

Whispers like "I heard Layne didn't do well in the tests." and "Probably mad that Mark Daniels beat her." float to my ears.

I flee to my first class before I hear anymore, just in case it becomes too much to bear. My first class is History, which I happen to be dreading, because Abbey will be there.

When I step into the classroom, I get the shock of my life when I see Abbey at the seat beside mine, head bent over a textbook. Well, I'm the one who always comes to class first and besides, Abbey didn't pass off as the hardworking type.

She looks up when I pull the chair out to sit down. Then she smiles.

I ignore it.

And I ignore her.

Or at least I tried.

"Hi Layne, I'm sorry I offended you the last time, I meant all of it as a joke, not anything serious," Abbey says.

"It's fine."

"Really, I'm not-"

"I said it's fine."

"O-okay," Abbey mumbles. "You don't have to sound so angry."

I let the silence that follows sink in, loud and clear and deep, wanting Abbey to know that she's being ignored so that she'll leave me alone. But it's either she's seriously lacking in mood reading skills or she just doesn't care.

"By the way, Layne, I don't understand this part, could you help-"

"I'm busy."

"Could you help me when you have time then?"

"Go ask someone else."

"But you're the smartest girl in school."

"I've been failing tests."

Abbey pauses for a while and I think I've succeeded in getting her to leave me alone when she says, "It's because of Marlene, isn't it?"

A few students who'd entered the classroom while Abbey was talking to me turned at the mention of Marlene. I feel my eyes start to water and I turn my head away from Abbey.

It's been a while since I've cried over Marlene's death. I used to cry and cry and cry, until I ran out of tears and just stopped. But now, with Abbey talking about Marlene in such a matter-of-fact way, reminding me that Marlene is dead, that Marlene is gone, it just gets to me.

It takes all the strength I can muster to hold the tears back. In one swift motion, I gather my books and sling my bag over my shoulder before I'm out the door and down the hallway. My emotions fight to break my dam of self control.

I struggle to reign in my thoughts, to try and strengthen the dam holding my emotions at bay.

Don't cry, don't cry, don't cry.

I burst into an empty classroom and sink to the floor, repeating over and over in my head not to cry until it becomes a mantra.

Don't cry, don't cry, don't cry.

Suddenly, there is a hand on my shoulder and someone says my name. I turn slightly to see who it is and there stands Abbey.

"It's okay," she says. "It's okay to cry."

The dam breaks.