Flickering Shadows

A Warning (Chapter 9)

A WARNING

I had liked many boys in my time; I used to be quite a boy-crazy little monster.  I have dairy after diary full of boys' last names tacked on to mine.  Obviously, none of them ever went anywhere.  I wondered if Dylan was just another one of those boys, or if there was something special about him.  I remained hopeful of the second.

           Dylan and I had started to talk off the roof lately; in the afternoons we often hung out in the rec room.  We received many weird looks, and the great thing was that neither of us cared.  There was just one problem in flaunting our friendship: Amanda.  Dylan didn't want to hurt her feelings, so we hid from her, although that made things even more suspicious.

           On the evening of March 3rd, I was in show shower.  My hair desperately needed to be washed; I could not meet Dylan with disgusting, unwashed hair!  I then heard footsteps, but no one was there. "Hello?" I called.  No reply.  I shrugged, figuring I must just have been hearing things.  Then it happened again-louder and closer than before.  I was starting to get paranoid.

           All of a sudden, I felt something big and hard hit my head.  The force of it made me stumble, slip and fall onto the wet tile floor.  My head throbbed in pain and I could feel the blood trickling down the side of my neck.  I tried to push myself up, and I stabbed the palm of my hand with a loose tile.  I winced in pain.  The water turned red and spiraled down the drain-I hated the sight and smell of blood. Already I started to get lightheaded.  Not wanting to pass out and drown, I used all the strength I had to stand and stumble out of the shower.  I dressed quickly in jeans and a t-shirt-which is extremely hard to do while soaking wet.

           Before I left the bathroom in search of a nurse, a message on the mirror written in the steam caught my eye. "Stay away from him. Or else." Then it vanished.

I was stuck in the infirmary overnight.  I didn't tell Dr. Rosenberg the truth about my injury-I couldn't!  So, I told him I hit my head on the shower heard.  Either he was not very intelligent or he did not care at all, because he totally bought that excuse. The showerhead was at least six feet high, and I was only five foot five. 

           There were fears of a concussion, so I was woken up every two hours throughout the night.  Not that I would have been sleeping anyway.  The seven stitches in my head throbbed and burned all night, it was a miserable existence. 

           Around midnight, as soon as the doctor had went home and the night nurses retired to the staff room, Dylan unexpectedly snuck in.  He looked awkward and worried. "Hey!" I whispered excitedly.

           "Oh! Thank God you're okay!" he fluttered over to me with extreme relief in his eyes.  Dylan was worried about me, how sweet!

           "I'm alright. Just a scratch."

           Dylan eyed my stitches and looked back at me, "Right." He doubted. "Who did this?" he said angrily.

           I groaned, "It was Amanda or one of her friends.  They don't like how I'm around you all the time." I smiled sadly. "You don't have to be my friend, Dylan.  Go make your girlfriend happy first."

           Much to my surprise, Dylan burst out laughing. "What?" I demanded. It irritated me; it was killing me, eating me up inside to be willingly giving him up, and here he was laughing at me! The nerve of some people...

           "Girlfriend, that's great." He continued laughing.

           "Isn't she?"

           He looked at me smiling, holding back a laugh, "Lucy, I would never date Amanda. Not in a million years."

           His statement was bittersweet for me.  Even if I couldn't have him, at least she couldn't either.  Although, it did hurt a little that he was single and didn't like me.  "Why not?" I asked.

           "She's totally not my type.  Sure, she's pretty-but I am not one of those guys who go for looks alone.  I need...depth!  I want someone quiet and thoughtful.  Not someone loud and obnoxious." Dylan turned serious as he thought about this. "Sure, a pretty girl is nice, but it isn't necessary."

           "Really?" I gasped. "I would see you with someone more like Amanda than...a shy girl."  I'd almost said 'someone like me', but I stopped myself.  I didn't want my secret obsession to be known to him; it could mess up the perfect friendship we already had.  Dylan was like my sun. Day and night, I revolved around him.  When he wasn't shining, it was like a dark and cold depression.  When he wasn't with me, I turned back into the zombie-like being I was before I met him.

           "Nah, not me." He shook his head. "I prefer band geeks to cheerleaders, you could say."

           I laughed at his analogy.  I loved how he defied the stereotypes.  A guy like him should be dating some gorgeous, blonde chick, not a frizzy-haired nerd that played the tuba.  "What about you?" Dylan asked. "What's your ideal guy?"

           I debated between telling him the truth and lying to him.  I risked being called a loser if I told him I had never had a boyfriend.  If I lied to him, though, that could not turn out well in the end.  Lying was never a good thing.  In the end, I decided to tell Dylan the truth, despite how embarrassing it was.  "I don't know," I mumbled.  "I've never had a boyfriend."

           "What? You?" Dylan said, sounding shocked.

           "Yeah," I frowned.

           "Well," Dylan spoke slowly.  "I am appalled, really. I assumed that you've had many-for a girl as pretty as yourself."

           In the darkness I blushed profusely, thankful that he could not see.  Dylan thought I was pretty! Due to my mental spazzing, I forgot to respond.  "Hey, I'm sorry if I offended you or anything..."

           "No, no! I was just spacing off. That is really sweet, that you think that."

           "I know that. Don't you ever doubt it, Lucy."