I'm annoyed as ever when the Mr. Jet scolds at me for being late. I flip him off when he turns to the whiteboard to write some shit down.
The class goes by slowly and my mind keeps on darting back to Naomi. What was that cut on her arm? And what were those girls talking about in the bathroom? I can't shake the feeling of uneasiness off. But when class ends and I walk into second period to see the familiar face that I've grown to some what like, my mind begins to rests.
"Styles." I smirk.
"Ace." He smiles cutely back with his dimples showing.
I don't think I'll ever see him as sexy. It's odd but whenever I fantasize about him the only thought that comes to mind is "cuteness." Which is weird.
Class begins and ends and it goes on until after third period when I hastily get to class before anyone else does. Kids upon kids begin to pile in, along with Harry.
"What are you doing here?" He asks as he leans up again the doorframe next to me.
"I have a thing to do, you go ahead in." I give him a smile but my tone is demanding and I know that he understands because he doesn't let out another peep as he walks straight into the classroom.
After a long wait later, Naomi's blonde, curly head begins to appear out of the corner. As she takes slow steps towards me she makes no effort of eye contact.
"Goldilocks." I say out loud and her head snaps to my direction.
"I'm sorry, were you talking to me?" She asks.
"Yeah. What's that... scar on your arm?" I blurt out without thinking.
Her face goes pale and her lips slightly quiver.
"I-- I fell."
I eye her carefully, "I don't think so. Was it because of that guy?"
I mentally punch myself in the throat because I need to think before I speak. She doesn't know that I know about that night.
Her eyes open wide, "What? How did you know that? Were you the one that gave me the note?" Her little eyes squint at me and I have the biggest urge to laugh, because if this is her way of trying to intimidate someone, it's not working.
"No, what note?" I ask, crossing my fingers behind my back.
"Oh. Never mind. What guy are you talking about?"
"The one that was with you that night. I heard some girls talking about it in the bathroom."
Her eyes open even wider than they already are, which scares me a bit. Her head begins to shake vigorously and tears spring out of her eyes.
"What? Who knows? Oh my god, oh my god!" She shrieks and I nearly slap her to get her to shut up.
"I don't know, they were talking about it in the bathroom. Something about a security camera catching what you guys were doing. I gotta say, for someone so tiny, you're quite scandalous."
She looks at me with mascara stained eyes and more tears burst out.
"I-- I can't believe... this is happening... that guy... he touched me," She hiccups in between words.
And then it suddenly clicks.
She wasn't meeting that guy there on purpose.
She was raped, or molested. Whatever happened... It was my fault.
A pang of guilt hits me and I suddenly feel as if I might pass out.
"I can't go to class like this." She cries and hiccups at the same time as she wipes away the black gooey-ness from her mascara.
"Okay... Lets get you fixed up." I gently place an arm around her shoulders and guide her to the exit.
She doesn't say anything as we walk to my motorcycle. I give her a helmet and she places it on her head, or tries too, but her gigantic head takes a while for the helmet to slip on. She looks funny with her mop of blonde, curly hair sticking out at the bottom of the helmet but I don't say anything as I get on and drive to Target.
"Why are we here?" Naomi whimpers.
"I don't know... it just made sense to me at the time to bring you to Target. We can get you a new mascara and fuzzy socks to cheer you up."
"Fuzzy socks?" She giggles.
"Yeah. You seem like the type to like fuzzy socks."
She nods, "You're right."
About an hour later, Naomi is carrying a red basket full of stuff. Four pairs of fuzzy socks, two Maybelline mascaras, a penguin mug, and a box of colored pencils.
After we pay I follow her to the bathroom and wait as she applies thick coats of mascara to her lashes. I snicker to myself because every time she applies a layer, she does this weird face that makes her look like a baby pig.
I hope this makes up for that note I gave her that led her to get... so fucked up. Even though she doesn't know it was me, I just hate that feeling like you know you did something wrong. Guilt. I hate it, I hate it so much.
"So what did happen that night?" Curiosity takes over me.
"Well. I got a note saying to meet Harry Styles. So, I went to meet Harry at nine, expecting him to be there but he never showed up. I waited until half an hour later and I wondered around the school until some creep driving pass saw me and stopped. It was my fault really, I was wearing a really scandalous dress. But I just wanted to impress Harry, even if he didn't show up... Anyways long story short that guy ripped my dress and I think broke a wire on my bra but I fought him off." She smiles triumphantly at me.
"You fought him off? How?" I crinkle my nose. I have to admit, I'm surprised and doubting her story because of how tiny she is. But I don't say anything and wait for her answer.
"I always carry peppers pray and a pocket knife with me."
"So you stabbed him?" My eyes dilate.
"No, no no no. I sprayed him with pepper spray and threatened him."
I nod and don't say anything else. She confirmed that she didn't get hurt, so the load of guilt I felt earlier is lifted off my shoulders. But some of it still lingers.
When she's done, we leave. I take her home instead of back to school because school hours have already ended.
I finish dropping Goldilocks off and get a text from Harry.
Harry: Hey, meet me at Castle.
I smile down at my screen. The thought of seeing Harry makes me smile. I shake head to hopefully rid of the feeling and ignite my motorcycle.
[Merry Christmas!!! I'm on a road trip since I get a month off. I'll try to update every time we stop at McDonalds bc they have free wifi, lolol. Anyway, thank you for reading! Please vote and comment your thoughts.]
