she slipped ; malum

piggy

MICHAEL ALMOST PROMISED CALUM A BULLET-PROOF VEST WHEN THE PAIR WERE IN A METRE-RADIUS OF LUKE HEMMINGS. The blond did not say a single word, just gave a small glare and continued walking. Ashton looked at the two and smiled small, as if ashamed that he wore a grin.

Calum looked over his shoulder, confused by his ex-best friend's actions. He loosened his tie a little, it seeming to constrict around his throat as he got more nervous, more anxious that something was going to happen.

Almost nothing had happened that morning. Luke hadn't insulted Calum, people hadn't called him a murderer, the teachers weren't looking at him so scared and it was all because of Michael. The boy seemed to have an aura of innocence around him.

Maybe it would rub off a little on Calum, and they'd think he was innocent, too.

"Why do you keep on looking like that at everyone?" Michael had a habit of jumbling his words into a sentence that didn't quite make sense, but the Maori got the gist.

"They're not even acknowledging me today. Luke would've called me a murderer at least six times this morning, but you're here. He wants to impress you."

The redhead snorted. "Impress me?"

"Luke's weird. He either wants you to think he's the dominant one, or the brotherly one. For you, I guess, he wants you on his team, rather than mine. So, he won't get angry at me, because it'll piss you off."

Now it was the pale boy's turn to wear a confused expression. "That's stupid."

Calum nodded. "Just wait for him to snap."

Snap? Snap how badly, exactly? Michael opened his mouth to ask, but the bell rang, and Calum picked up his pace. In homeroom, they sat next to each other. Calum groaned, looking at the pale boy.

"Do you want everyone to hate you?" the younger boy raised his eyebrows at the forward question. "By sitting next to me, you make everyone think you're either a psychopath or incredibly stupid."

"Luke didn't."

Calum walked out once the bell rung again, finding a place to spend his whole double free. He got out his art and finished off the drawing he had been doing. He went into the small drama classroom (that most people called an auditorium but it was too small to actually be one) and laid down on the stage.

Before and during the events of Avery being alive, he used to act. He thought it was stupid now, and the credibility he once held to those people who complimented him had vanished. He was too busy fighting wars to play a stand-up comedian in the trenches. He was a soldier, and that's all he was.

When he saw a class start to flood in, he backed out behind the curtains, watching silently backstage. Michael and Ashton were in the class, which made Calum wonder how good they actually were.

Ashton had never shown any interest in acting, before.

They all opened their folders to view the script that Ms. Montague was talking about. They were doing Lord of the Flies. Calum wished he didn't drop drama. He knew he could still cast in it, though. Ms. Montague loved him.

He smiled when he realised that Ashton was going for the role of Piggy. The nerdy boy who always quoted his aunt and most psychically vulnerable, as well as an advisor for Ralph.

Michael got up on stage, and Calum back away even more, making sure that the boy couldn't see him as he watched. Michael was better than Calum wanted him to be. The Maori laid down and continued to draw and use his water colours, going onto one of his back pages.

He liked the colour of Michael's hair. So he figured he should try and get the colour. He looked at the red he had, and furrowed his eyebrows. His was an apple red, but he needed a balloon red. He mixed the white and red together, getting it a little brighter.

He sighed in content.

"Calum, what are you doing behind there?"

He knew better than anyone that that was Miss Montague's voice. He looked up. "It's my free . . . I – I just . . ." Calum was never good with teachers, anyway.

"Would you like to come up here and show this class how drama is done? I know you have Ralph's part memorised."

And Piggy's.

Still, the boy shook his head, looking down at his art book. "No, thank you."

He felt Michael and Ashton's eyes on him. Usually, Ashton didn't stare, because he had grown not to, but Michael hadn't learnt the rules to get by at Halsey High.

Calum absentmindedly drew Michael's face, because the hair just didn't look right without it. But as soon as he heard footsteps coming closer, he stopped, slamming his book shut. He looked up. It was Michael.

"Help me learn Ralph's parts."

"No." Calum snapped, getting up.

"Why not?"

"Learning means spending time with you." he said, walking out of the auditorium. "I'm not going to let you ruin your life like that."

Michael stood at the door of the auditorium, pouting. He went back to his teacher and grabbed the script, sitting down next to Ashton, who just looked at him curiously.

"He needs a friend, you know," Ashton couldn't look at him as he said it, and wanted to pretend he was talking to himself, but he needed Michael to hear it. He focused on the script on his thighs. "He's lonely and stuck in the past; he just needs someone to get out of it."

"Why'd you never try to help?"

"He wouldn't let me come back. Not now. I've been away for too long."

"Why'd you go?"

"I believed what they said."

Michael wanted to hit Ashton. Michael wanted to hit Ashton and go out and find Calum. He wanted to tell Calum that he wished he had been there for him. He wanted to tell Calum that he could prove it. He could prove that Calum hadn't pushed her.

But he couldn't.

Calum didn't like him. Ashton didn't deserve to be hit. Michael couldn't prove it.

"I was so full of pride in my contribution to the good of society, that I helped collect firewood." Ashton said, and the pale boy didn't get it. He shrugged. "Piggy quote."

Michael nodded slowly, and went back to his script. Calum was a lot like Ralph – the leader, but had to go through so much pain all through it. His two friends die, and he's left there.

He started to tear up at the script. "H-How are we even allowed to do this as a school play?"

"I don't know. It's one of the books in the curriculum for English, so, it's allowed, sort of." The tanned boy shrugged, adjusting his glasses.

The boy nodded numbly, thinking about Calum. God, he must've been in so much pain, right now.

The bell rang, but Michael didn't move. He was stuck standing as still as a statue, because, it was only now that he had realised how sad the Maori must've been. It was only then that Michael had thought through Calum watching her fall, Calum at her funeral, Calum when the bullying started.

Bullying sounded like such a childish word when Michael thought about it. It didn't do the actual situation justice. Bullying sounded like something little kids do to each other when they call each other petty names. Bullying only sounded effective when it was complimented with the words 'suicide' and 'self-harm'.

C