Ecstasy

Chapter 33

Calla:

I stood at my window that looked out over the road. Mum was still gabbing on about how bad an influence Tyson was as I pushed back the curtain and strained to look out as Tyson exploded from the house, walking down the steps quickly. He paced up and down the road aggressively pulling on his hair. I hoped I hadn't pushed him too far. I winced as he slapped the heel of his palm against his forehead a couple of times. After a few mumbled words he seemed to freeze as if reaching a dawn of realisation. Realisation of what I have no idea but he seemed to run off quickly, intent to get somewhere. Sighing I turned back to mum and continued with my excuses.

***

I sat at in my seat at our lunch table solemnly chewing on my sandwich. Mitchie, Phoebe and the others chattered cheerfully and all I could do was sulk. Tyson hadn't been at school for the past few days and I found myself missing his face amongst the crowds in the corridors. Ridiculous, I thought, that I should miss someone I hardly know. But I needed to talk to him – after that song I wanted to know more. I was starting to wonder whether the aftermath of that high had started to catch up with him.

I heard my name being called and looked up. Phoebe was looking at me concerned, "Are you okay Calla?" She repeated her question.

"Is it Tyson?" Mitchie asked.

The question made me think twice about telling them about the events that occurred on the weekend. They only looked concerned though, so I answered truthfully, "yeah."

"Don't worry," Phoebe gave my back a reassuring rub, "he'll be fine."

The moment I voiced my thoughts yesterday they accepted my worries as their own, looking out for Tyson in the hallways. Concerned all along with me by his absence.

Just then the bell rang and everyone in the cafeteria stood up, people yelled over the shrill dinging of the bell, saying goodbye to the friends or asking what class they had next.

"Let's go to music!" Phoebe said happily trying to boost my mood. It didn't work though when we walked into the class room we were asked to sit in our project groups and I sat next to an empty table. And so my mood continued to darken as I failed at trying to write up musical influences – I just knew I was spelling everything wrong. I got so anxious I started to attack the page with an eraser, rubbing out all I had worked on for the past hour, when suddenly a voice sounded beside me and books slapped down on the desk next to me.

"Having some trouble there?"

I looked up at the familiar voice and my face broke out in a smile at Tyson's presence. He smiled back at me and I was so happy he was here that I almost forgot to notice the big blue bruise covering his left eye.

I was about to ask when the teacher interrupted.

"Late note?" Mrs Wallace was standing before us hand out stretched a small smile on her face.

"Oh yeah," Tyson jumped and dug around in his backpack before presenting her with a blue slip of paper.

"Thank you," she said promptly walking back to the front of the room.

"What did you do to your face?" I asked once she was out of ear shot.

Tyson turned back to me, "It wasn't me!"

I looked down at his hands curled around the edge of the desk and noticed his bruised and sore knuckles.

"You were fighting someone." Typical!

He smirked one of his award winning smiles. "You should have seen the other guy!" But there was something else there. His coy grin didn't reach his eyes and he put his hands under the desk almost if he was hiding them.

I could only frown as I he pulled my paper out from under my hands to read what I was struggling with. I studied his face when he didn't know I was looking. He looked tired and ... sad. I knew it wasn't just a school yard punch up. Those bruises weren't fresh either, the inevitable swelling was gone. The yellow tinge to them told me they were a few days old.

"Are you okay?" I didn't even realise I had been staring at his hands, until his deep voice was in my ear. He put his hands under the desk almost if he was hiding them. I turned my vision away from his unmarked knuckles and looked into his eyes.

"I thought you were avoiding me."

Even though the bruise was so distracting and he was doing such a good job at hiding his emotions, his blue eyes betrayed him. I didn't give him the chance to reply before asking, "Who were you fighting with?"