Head Above Water

18. Ditchers

That Friday as I arrived at my Creative Writing class I spotted a familiar figure leaning against the front of the classroom with his head tipped back against the wall. His eyes were closed as I walked up, but they shot open when I gasped in horror, catching sight of his battered and bruised-looking face.

His entire left eye and part of his cheek was a deep, dark purple, while a yellowish green crescent colored the area below his right eye. There was a scabbed-over cut on the side of his forehead as well as a small one on his cheek and his lip had been split.

I rushed forward and took his face gently in my hands. “Oh my God, Rick! What the hell happened to you?” I asked, my voice cracking near the end.

He seemed surprised by my outburst, but collected himself quickly. “It’s okay, Gemma. I’m fine,” he said calmly, running his hands lightly up and down my arms soothingly.

“That is not fine!” I argued, struggling to contain my emotions. Just looking at his poor face was making me so angry and upset that I was beginning to feel nauseous. “What happened?” I demanded once more, emphasizing both words separately.

He sighed and then scowled dismissively. “My mom’s got a new boyfriend and apparently he’s exactly her type…an abusive prick.”

“You got in a fight?” I said weakly, worried that his history might be trying to repeat itself.

“We argued, yeah. I didn’t fight him though. If I did that now, I’d probably kill the guy with one hit. Still learning to control my strength.”

I covered my surprise. Though the fact that Mal was a vampire was a permanent fixture in my mind, I continually forgot that Rick was changing into one.

“Just like my dad, he hit my mom. I stopped him, so he beat on me instead.”

“What? He can’t do that to you!” I yelled, outraged.

Rick shrugged. “Apparently he can.”

“You’re a minor! It’s illegal.”

“Who’s gonna call to turn him in? My mom certainly isn’t,” he said acidly. “With—”

“I will!” I said, cutting him off. “I’m not—”

This time he interrupted. “Gemma, stop. It’s fine. Thank you, but I’m fine. Really. I’m already healing. This’ll be completely gone in a day or two.”

“We should still call it in so they can put that ass—”

Rick stepped forward swiftly and covered my mouth with his hand. His face was only inches from mine, his expression somehow humorous despite the situation. “I haven’t heard your innocent little mouth swear once yet, Gemma, and I think it’s cute. Don’t break your record now,” he teased.

My heart was doing an impression of the Irish jig and I tried to calm it as he removed his hand. He stepped back, but I stepped forward and took his face in my hands again. I traced my fingers lightly outside the biggest bruise, careful not to actually touch it. “Does it still hurt?” I whispered. It actually hurt to talk over the lump that was in my throat.

He closed his eyes and inhaled slowly, relishing my touch. “No,” he said back just as quietly.

When he opened his eyes again he was looking at me so intensely all my efforts to calm my heart rate went to waste. I gulped quietly and forced myself to step away from him, not liking the direction my body was taking. What am I doing? Just yesterday I was over the moon kissing Malcolm. Isn’t one guy enough for you? I scolded myself.

“Er…we should get to class,” I said awkwardly. I started walking toward the door, but he pulled me to a stop.

“Actually, there’s something I’ve been wanting to show you. Ditch with me?”