quinze

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Arielle Evans

"Harry! Harry, where are you going?" I yell, running after him with my book bag falling off my shoulder.

"To show these asses not to mess with you or Marcel." Harry growls. For a brief moment, he reminds me of precisely how Mason was the first days that we knew each other.

"Harry, its fine. Please." I beg, trying to catch up with him.

"No, it's not fine, Arielle. Do you even want to know how many times I've video chatted Marcel and saw him beaten up and bruised? And then you! Don't think I didn't notice those cuts, Arielle, because concealer doesn't work all that well." Harry snaps.

"They didn't make those." I say softly.

"What?" Harry finally stops and turns around.

"The cuts. The populars didn't make them." I sniffle, wiping at my eyes.

"Arielle." Harry whispers, almost as if he is talking to himself. He runs back to me and pulls me into a tight hug, wrapping his arms around my shoulders. I sob into his chest, finally able to let my emotions out after what seems like forever. For the first time in a long, long while, I actually hug someone back. I wrap my arms around Harry's torso, bringing him closer to me. I think of Mason, I think of the constant cuts every single night, the bullying, Chelsea's constant insulting and beating, everything; I let all my emotions flow away with the sobs and tears on Harry's shirt. "It's okay. Shh." Harry whispers, rubbing soothing circles on my back. I don't let go of him, for I have never felt this close, this understood with someone before.

 *

 Harry and I sit in the park an hour later, feeding the ducks that waddle along the edge of the pond. I toss a small piece of bread in the water, and at least five ducks jump in after it. Harry chuckles and copies my actions. The rest of the ducks jump in the water and start jumping on one another for at least a bit of the food. I laugh and point at a baby duck who is beating the rest of the ducks to the bread.

"Is it worse than what happens with Marcel?" Harry asks suddenly.

I sigh. "No, the boys don't pick on me as much, so I like to think I have it easy. But sometimes it's the same as Marcel; last week I ended up in the hospital." I admit.

Harry's fists curl into balls and his jaw clenches. "Why?"

"This girl, Chelsea. She beat me up in the hallway." I stop and sniffle.

"But why?" Harry asks.

"There's this guy...” I start. "His name is Mason."

"Did he help her?" Harry demands.

"No. Now listen. He's a popular, but he's one of the nicest ones. He stood up for me one day, which aggravated Chelsea. She let it go that time, but for the next few weeks, Mason kept standing up for me, which pissed her off. One day I guess she just couldn't handle it anymore, and well...I ended up in the hospital, I guess." I explain.

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