Her Secret

Chapter 2

Of course he didn't take this as he'd obviously kind invitation to leave her alone. Instead, he took it as an invitation to follow her out of class after the bell rang.
She exited the door, peering around as the students clumped together by lockers- one girl across the hall was sobbing into her friend's shoulder as if she found her her favorite book character had died.
Then he appeared next to her, out of thin air. She jumped a bit, startled to see him again. She figured after their run in, he would go back to barely remembering what she looked like.
But his hands were shoved in his jean's pockets, and he was walking beside her, keeping her slow, meticulous pace even though he could go much faster on his long legs.
"Hey," he greeted like he saw her every day.
She shot him a strange look, hugging her book closer to her chest. She tucked a red curl behind her ear, frowning at him.
"You again," she deadpanned. He shrugged, raising a dark brow.
"You don't want me here?"
"Not particularly," Ali admitted, looking straightforward again. Only then did the realize that she wasn't having to dodge through the usual rough crowd of students that crowded around the hallways- they were all parting like the Red Sea for Michael, quite a few of them staring at her as well.
She looked back at Michael to make sure he was seeing what she was, but he acted as though this happened every day. That's when Ali realized that for him, it did.
"Too bad," he shrugged. He didn't seem too sorry. "It's a free country."
  She rolled her eyes, pushing open the double doors that lead outside of the school. The bright light of the sun temporarily blinded her, and she had to squint.
  Michael followed her down the stone steps, crossing through the courtyard and grassy lawn along with her.
"Why don't you like me, Ali?" He asked suddenly.
She sighed, trudging to a stop just before the asphalt of the stretching parking lot began beneath her blue converse sneakers.
"Maybe because you act like you're some sort of royalty around here."
The answer was quick- almost instantaneous. She was surprised at herself for being able to answer to quickly, but she shook it off, realizing that it was the truth.
He quirked an eyebrow, wetting his pink lips. His grey eyes shone with the stony curiosity that she and everyone in the school was used to.
"I do not," He defended. His tone suggested that he wasn't sure himself.
She sighed once again, biting her bottom lip.
"Back there. When we were walking in the hallway, the crowd just- shifted for you. That's not normal. I practically break my ribs trying to get through that crowd every day."  
Michael's eyes swept over her, making sure she was serious about this statement. "They've always done that."
  "Because you're you. You're the captain of the football team, you're attractive, you have ever girl wanting you and every guy wanting to be you. It's not... healthy." She furrowed her brow at the look on his face. "What?"
"You think I'm attractive?" He asked stupidly.
She scoffed. "Doesnt everyone? Isn't that the point?"
  He scrutinized her under that steely gaze. Avoiding her questions like he plague seemed to be something he enjoyed. "Where are you headed?"
"Home," she said, flicking her eyes away from his. For some reason, she found his stare uncomfortable. "Why?"
  "Just curious," he muttered, glancing behind him back at the school. "I'll see you in class, Ali."
She rolled her eyes for the millionth time. "I hope not."
-/-/-

A week had gone by since the parking lot. It was like he was suddenly her best friend. He followed her everywhere like a lost puppy. He constantly asked her random, annoying questions- favorite color, favorite food, if she had siblings, why she didn't have any, then going quiet when she mentioned her mother.
Ah. Maybe he did know her secret.
After the mention of her mother, he stayed silent for a day. She actually found herself searching for him in the classes she had with him, wondering if he was going t acknowledge her. He usually did, but this time he didn't.
Maybe he didn't want to be seen with a slut's daughter.
She had figured she would enjoy the loss of his constant presence, but instead, it felt strange. She had actually liked the feeling of having a... no, not friend. A shadow? Someone to talk to, even if to only make smart remarks.
The thing with Ali was that she didn't have any friends. Of course she used to- back before everything. Freshman year had of course been hell, but without any friends...
In her Psychology class with Michael, she kept glancing at him. A few times, she caught him staring back at her, a mix of emotions on his hard features.
The fourth of fifth time, a piece of paper smacked the back of her red curls. She turned, glaring at the girl behind her.
Ashlynn Montez. The very girl who had changed the course of Ali's life- who had spilled her secret to the entire eighth grade only days before summer vacation. She was the reason the whole school knew about Ali's mother, and she was the reason Ali had no friends.
Ashlynn was moderately pretty- she would most likely be prettier if not for the pound of makeup she caked onto her face every day, along with the slutty clothes she somehow squeezed her curves into. She was Hispanic, with straight black hair and dark olive skin. Her eyes were black with a sort of gleam in them, as if she had played a horrid joke on you and was waiting for you to find out what she had done. She had never liked Ali, and Ali never knew why.
"It's for you, slut," Ashlynn hissed through her teeth. Ali clenched her jaw to hold back the sassy retort that was bound to get her slapped.
She picked up the paper, unraveling it quietly so as not to get in trouble- not that it would really matter. Mr. Hudson didn't care much for their class anyway.
The paper read: STAY AWAY FROM HIM.
Ali turned to Ashlynn, scowling. "From who?"
Ashlynn scoffed, dangling a perfectly manicured finger in the general direction of where Michael sat.
"The guy you've been creepily eye-raping this whole class."
Ali rolled her eyes and turned back in her seat, pretending that Ashlynn didn't exist with her annoying voice and face for the rest of the class.
There were a million things Ali wished she could scream at her, but she knew better. Anything nasty that she said would Be reported directly to the principal- Ashlynn's mother.
  So yes. Ali knew better. But that didn't keep her from mentally punching her in the face multiple times.
  Finally, as the bell rang, she packed up slowly, hoping to be the last one to leave the classroom. She did this in most classes so she could avoid the torrent of the kids in the halls as long as she could.
Today, however, Michael visited her desk, hands in his pockets once again.
"Hey," he said, looking away from her blue gaze.
She rested a hand on her hip, cocking an eyebrow challengingly. "So you're speaking to me again?"
He pressed his lips together in a line, sighing. "Im sorry, okay? I've just... heard some things, and..."
"Well, THAT explains it," she snapped, hoisting her bag over her shoulder. "You're completely justified now. Carry on."
She pushed past him, out of her long row of desks, towards the door. He quickly caught up to her, keeping pace beside her.
"Wait, Ali," he tried, fingers brushing her wrist. "You have to understand-"
"I don't have to do anything!" She whirled around to face him, pointing a finger in his chest. "We aren't even friends! I've barely known you a week, and the second I mention my mother, you scamper off like a scared little kitten! Well, I can't change what happened to my mother, and I can't change what she had done, so if you can't handle that, you can go-"
"Ali," He cut her off sharply, grabbing her wrist away from his chest. "Stop."
She was breathing heavily, finally letting out the rant she had been wanting to scream at the whole school for years. It was NOT her fault what her mother was, or what she did. It wasn't her fault that her mother died, and it wasn't her fault that she was left with her memory.
It. Was. Not. Her. Fault.
"Let me explain," he said, almost breathlessly. "I stopped talking to you because..." he trailed off. "Because I was afraid."
Ali rolled her eyes. "Of what, Michael?"
  "You. Everything about you. You're so much better than me, Ali. Stronger. Smarter. You're able to handle what happened to your mother, when I can't even mention my father without-"
He cut himself off sharply, closing his mouth. Ah, yes. Sophomore year, everyone knew that Michael's father had cheated on his mother and gotten the other woman pregnant. It was the talk of the town for a bit of time.
  It wasn't anything compared to Ali's mother, though.
"I guess i was..." he searched for the right word. "Jealous."
She snorted, shaking her head so her curls fell in her eyes. "That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard."
  His head shot up quickly. "Well, it's the truth." His steely grey eyes flashed. "I was mad at you for being better than me, because I'm a stuck up moron. Happy?"
She looked him over- from his clenched fists to his tense shoulders.
"I hate to break it to you, but I'm better than a lot of people," Ali said slowly, deciding forgiveness was the option. "It's nothing new."
Realizing the sarcasm meant friendship, Michael's expression broke into a relieved smile.
"I know," he played along. "I've figured that out, Miss Popularity."
  She scoffed, turning back towards the cafeteria. He stepped next to her, walking with her once again. 
  "Ali," he said. "You should sit with me today."
She almost stopped dead, giving him a strangled look. "What?" She choked out.
"Sit with me at lunch," he said slowly, making sure she got it.
She blinked at him. With the populars?
"But... wouldn't people care?" She asked, pulling her book bag back up her shoulder from where it had slid. 
"No. Why would they?" He furrowed his brow. "Cmon, I know you sit alone in be library. What's the harm?"
'I might get eaten alive,' she thought to herself. Out loud, she bit her lip. "I... guess I could. Just for today..."
-/-/-

Her heart was beating wildly out of her chest. She was sure the second she would sit down next to Michael, she would be bombarded with evil taunts and name calling.
But, when she slowly rested her bag down on the table and eased into the seat next to Michael, nobody gave her a second thought. A few muttered "hey" in her direction, but that was it. No malicious teasing, no cruel laughter, no making fun of her curly red hair or her pale skin. Nothing.
It was almost creepy.
Michael must have noticed how uncomfortable she seemed, because he frowned, leaning towards her.
"You okay?" He asked, voice low. Something about his tone seemed different than it had been the last few days.
She bit her lip, nodding. "Yeah, I guess..."  
  "Is this weird for you?"
She rolled her eyes. "Do you even have to ask? I don't know any of you people."
  He frowned. Then he cleared his throat rather loudly, catching the attention of quite a few of the table's occupants.
"Guys," he said dramatically, peeking at Ali from the corner of his steel grey eyes. "This is Ali. Ali, these are the guys."
Ali's mouth dropped open, and she felt her cool skin instantly heat. However, nobody around the table seemed too fazed by Michael's antics. Instead, quite a few gave her warm smiles and introduced themselves.
  The girl sitting directly across from Ali actually squealed, reaching all the way over the flat surface to grasp Ali's small, pale hands.
"It's so nice to meet you, Ali!" She said, smiling to reveal pearly white teeth.
The girl looked very familiar- Naomi Kingston, she realized. Her milk chocolate skin was flawless as always, her golden eyes shining excitedly at Ali behind their long lashes. Her bouncy, curly hair was frizzed out, long to her shoulders, the golden highlights already showing their black roots towards the tops of her hair.
  A silver charm bracelet clinked on the end of her wrist, knocking against the table. It was a very pretty bracelet, and Ali admired it. It had a small silver key charm on it, as well as a little football. Ali wondered what they meant to her.
  "Uh... yeah," Ali muttered, still embarrassed by Michael's sudden display. "You, too."
  Naomi kept her smile full wattage, and Ali could already feel herself starting to relax. This girl seemed okay- of Ali remembered correctly, she was in a few of her classes.
The boy sitting next to Naomi rolled his eyes at their display of affection. He was very handsome, just like the rest of the people at the table. He was Asian, Ali could tell, with an upward swoop of glossy black hair, dark olive skin, and warm brown upturned eyes that reminded her of melted chocolate.
"Don't mind her," the boy said. "She's insane."
  With his voice, Ali recognized him. He was Jonah Lee, quarterback of the football team. He often gave inspirational speeches to the school over the intercom on game days. He seemed sweet, from afar.
"Jonah," Naomi scoffed, smacking his chest. The looked back at Ali, smiling. "He's mean, ignore him. I'm Naomi."
  "I know," Ali found herself saying. She realized how creepy this sounded and she blushed. "I mean- you're on the cheer team, So everyone knows you."
Naomi giggled, waving her hand. "It's fine, it's fine. So, how do you know Michael?"
Hearing his name, Michael came back into the conversation.
He smirked at Naomi, eyes flashing. "It just sort of slammed into me, how amazing she was, one day. You know?"
Ali rolled her eyes at his pun. "I ran into him," Ali explained to the overeager girl.
Jonah laughed. "Was he too busy fixing his hair in his light up mirror to notice you?"
Michael scowled at his friend, shaking his head, letting his sandy brown hair flop into his eyes.
"No, actually, it was her fault. She was reading, or something."
Ali flushed. Actually, she had been lost in thought, thinking about her mother...
"Yeah," she agreed quietly. "Reading."
  "Do you like to read?" Naomi asked, genuinely curious.
Ali smiled a bit, whatever happiness that had been present before deflated by the thought of her mother.
"Yes, I do. I have a million books," she said, biting her lip. Naomi shrugged.
"Im more a magazine person, but that's really cool!"
Michael frowned at her, sensing her change in personality. Before he could ask her what was wrong, the bell rang, signaling the end of their short lunch period.
Ali thanked God in her mind, praising that she'd avoided any awkward question that anyone else might've asked her.
-/-/-