Between the Lines✔ [COMPLETED]

[5] A Strange Case

Malory

While conversing with some girls from my class, I spot a very dread Kyle Davidson walking through the entrance doors; he looks exactly like I'd looked just the last Monday –dread death stare, the couldn't-care-less outfit, the feet-dragging, the lazy limbs. He looks a little pale, too, and as always, his stupid long emo hair is hiding his face from the world. 

I sort of feel sorry for the poor thing. I decide to make a genuine effort to be nice to him today.

Well, I said I'd make a genuine effort but in all seriousness it's incredibly difficult for me to do that. 

I excuse myself from the conversation I'm having with the girls and practically bounce my way over to Kyle with a toothy grin.

It would have been impossible for me to cheer him up considering all we ever did was fight, but it was worth a shot, right?

"Looks like I don't have to work that hard today after all. Someone's already pressed your piss-off button. Who do I have to thank?"

Poor thing couldn't even turn to me to reply. All he says is, "Not today, Lloyd."

I almost smirk. "I'm saying this as a cooperative co-star: You look like shit this morning."

"Do me a favour?" He says, turning to me.

"Uh huh?"

He inhales sharply before he continues. "Don't talk to me."

He continues walking on so I just fell into step with him. There was no way I was letting him off that easily.

"Why didn't you show up on Friday for practice?" I ask. "You know marks have been deducted already, right?" I scoff. "Was it because of some idiot club or group or something? Or is it because of something like in the script where you have a massive possession of tangible wealth and had to tend to it all? How's all your cattle? How are your flocks? Where do you hide your safe full of golden coins? Did your mother make you wake up at the sound of the cock's crow to tend to the fields?"

Kyle comes to an abrupt halt in the hallway at something I'd said. Before I could process anything else, his hand pushes against my shoulder and then my body goes slamming against the lockers behind me.

Ouch. 

Why was the metal so cold?

Why was his hand so shaky? 

Why did it feel like ice against my own skin?

I grimace. "Ouch. What the hell is wrong with you today? Did you down an extra dose of Sure-Pissed syrup or something?"

Kyle glares down at me, and I have to admit that with him being taller and so close to my face I'm a little intimidated, but there's no way I'd let him win so easily.

"Let's get one thing straight, Lloyd," he says in a stern, spiteful tone. "I never want to hear a word about my family pass through that filthy mouth of yours. Do I ever piss you off about your dead drunkard of a father?"

I feel my heart stop for a few moments. Then I could feel it beating so hard that my skin is vibrating without me having to touch a single cell from it. I wonder if he feels my anxiety, too. He leans in closer to look deeper into my eyes. I want to look away, but I can't. Something about the anger in him had caught me off guard. Even though I'd felt the fear, I pushed it aside. I wasn't going to let him win. I couldn't let him win.