Friends Forever, huh?

Chapter 28 | chocolate chip pancakes

I stare at my reflection in dismay. To put it lightly, I look like a mess. There's a purple bruise on my cheek, bags under my eyes, and a massive bruise on my leg. I sigh, prodding the bruise on my leg with my fingertips. At least I know the reason for my slight limp now. Pulling out my makeup bag, I dig out my concealer, coating my bruises so they're virtually invisible. I quickly finish my makeup--making myself look normal. However, what I can't conceal is the dull, hopeless glint in my eyes. They usually have a mischievous sort of light about them, something that made me feel that my eyes were my best feature. What once held mystery and laughter now looks dull and ordinary. I sigh, chasing Shelby's words from my mind.

I hate the way a bully's words are crafted carefully in a way to break you. More so, I hate how well they do their job. They get inside your mind and cause you to believe things you would have classified as lies in the past. Worthless. Nobody. Slut...

"Ashley!" My mom calls, her voice cheerful, "I made breakfast!" I pause, surprised by her words. Since when does she have to time to make breakfast for me?

I raise an eyebrow apprehensively when I walk downstairs. She made chocolate chip pancakes topped with whipped cream and sprinkles. Not very nutritious (which is possibly why she practically never makes them) but my favorite. They've been my favorite since I was a child. I probably haven't had them since I was ten. My mouth waters looking at the decadent stack of chocolate pancakes.

"Why did you make pancakes on a school morning?"

"You can be a little later to school, I already called your teacher and told her you'd be late to class. I thought we needed mother daughter time," She smiles, but something about it looks forced. I narrow my eyes, suspicious about her behavior. First, she makes my favorite chocolate chip pancakes and then she tells me I get to be late to school? Something's fishy. Has she figured out I'm being bullied? Is she just happy that I'm making friends?

I bite my lip, unsure of how to respond. Of course, I don't mind being late to school and eating these delicious pancakes....

But this is uncharacteristic, as if she knows something's off with me. She couldn't know about the bullying...could she?

She couldn't. I haven't told anyone what's going on--even Cole. Thankfully, he didn't press for details last night. He cast me quite a few worried glances, but in the face of my stubbornness; he gave up. I did notice the way he held me tighter the rest of the night, almost as if his arms could protect me from everything I was going through. Perhaps as if my presence could protect him from himself. I wish.

When I came home a few hours later, I snuck upstairs. My mother was exhausted from a long day at work, anyhow, and was collapsed on the couch fast asleep. I'd breathed a sigh of relief, glad that I didn't have to explain my bruised body to my mother.

For some unexplainable reason, I don't want my mother to know what's going on at school. Actually, I don't want anyone knowing what's going on at school. The thought of her looking at me with pity in her eyes makes me cringe. I don't want to be treated differently by the people that love me. I don't want them to feel the need to constantly cheer me up because of what happens to me at school. Reality: I'm bullied. Also reality: soon enough, I'll be graduating and moving out of this town.

But why did she make the pancakes?

I shrug, deciding that just this once I won't overthink anything. I help myself to a fluffy chocolate pancake and let out a blissful sigh as I taste the rich flavor. Forget about the reasoning behind making pancakes, I'm just happy that I have them.

However, after my blissful pancake eating phase comes to an end, my curiosity is reignited. My mother seems almost reluctant to let me return to school--odd for someone who places such a high priority on my academics.

"So, how's school?" She asks conversationally, trying to be nonchalant.

"It's fine." I say quickly, unwilling to divulge any information.

"Are you making friends?"

"I started talking to this girl named Caroline. She's nice." That much isn't a lie. However, I omit the part about talking to her because of the cruelty of my nemesis. Well my nemesis and her irritatingly strong sidekick. I'm not being overly dramatic. I think the last few weeks have given me the right to call her my nemesis.

My mother smiles and nods, looking pleased. However...

"Anything else I should know?"

"Nope."

"Are you sure?"

"Okay fine mom, you caught me. I'm secretly selling pot brownies in the hallway. I sneak out of my bedroom to see my boyfriend at night and I have five tattoos. Also a belly button piercing."

I laugh at the stunned look on her face. Okay, maybe a little too much sarcasm. She recovers quickly, "Very funny, but I was serious."

"Hi serious, I'm Ashley."

She gives me a mock glare. In return, I give an innocent smile.

"Well, if there's really nothing I need to know about..."

She draws out her sentence, almost as if she's waiting for me to interrupt her to say something major. I don't. Instead I opt for another quick, "nope!"

Mom presses a kiss to my forehead, giving me an affectionately frustrated look. "I've got to get ready for work. Head off to school after you finish breakfast, alright?"

I nod absentmindedly, "Okay. Love you!"

"Love you too, honey."

Taking advantage of her sudden absence, I notice her phone sitting on the corner. It wouldn't hurt to check it...maybe there's something there contributing to her strange behavior.

❝This is Cole. I realize this message is completely out of the blue but I was wondering if you could do a favor for me? Watch out for Ashley, do something special for her. She's really down...but she won't tell me what happened.❞

Now everything makes sense: the pancakes, the cheerful tone, letting me get to school late. Cole told my mother what he knew and she must have pieced enough together to follow his advice.

Shoot.

I glare at Cole's text as if I can see him in real life. Why is he getting involved? I don't want sympathy. I want to work through this alone. Alone there's no possibility of another person wounding me more.

***

I HAVE WRITTEN FIVE CHAPTERS TODAY AND ITS ALMOST MIDNIGHT AND I WANT CHINESE FOOD AND IM ACTUALLY REALLY EXHAUSTED.

This will conclude my authors note I have nothing to say, my apologies. Oh but before you go!! With all of the updating, make sure you didn't skip a chapter! Go back and read them all ;)

Back so soon? You're fast! You would give Pietro Maximof a run for his money. Alrighty I'm done. Goodnight, thanks for reading!

-J