ASUNDER (I) : tmr newt

73: I'm Banished

Leo 73

I move to sit at a table, folding my arms in my lap, then over themselves, then back in my lap again. The sight of the crusting burns makes me feel ill. I feel sicker knowing Alby is coming to talk to me about his whole secret situation. I don't know what to tell him. All night I sat awake, thinking of a plan, but none came to mind. All I can do is sit, my life on hold until his arrival.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to be late," he sighs, sitting down. "I was just having a conversation with Winston."

I don't particularly care about that conversation. It's not on my list of things I need to know. I should have eaten today. Perhaps if I faint I can stall out Michelle's banishment. Maybe, while I'm asleep, I'll have some sort of epiphany like I imagine Ella does every time she closes her eyes.

"Are you feeling alright Leo?" He sits down across from me, eyeing me carefully. This is the most amount of concern Alby has shown for anything except the rules since I first got here. "You look like you shuckin' saw a Griever."

Well, if we mean griever like we mean someone who is mourning a loss, then yes, I did in fact look in the mirror today. I have seen someone grieving. I just haven't decided who I am grieving yet. Is it Michelle or is it everything I have ever seen? It feels like I have lost.

Although, there is not much to lose anyway. There's not much worth it here.

"I just, I need to tell you the truth," I breathe out, and breathe in. I think of my lungs rustling the trees like the wind, their leaves falling onto the tombstones below. Do we give graves to those we banish? Will there be a spot for the griever to visit, a ghost of a girl visiting a ghost of a girl like a poem I don't want to read? Like a poem I wish I wasn't the author of? Why is this life so hard, and why does Ella think this is the easy part?

"I'm listening Leo," he sighs, before he leans in closer to me. "Listen, shuck, I miss Nick. He's less of a shuckin' slinthead than I am, and he'd know what I should say."

"What happened?" The empathy in me takes over. If I can listening to a chorus of his suffering, maybe it'll drown out mine.

He shakes his head. "Story for another day. One where we've put all this stuff behind us."

Right, he doesn't want to think about it. I can tell from the way his eyes move to the wood on the picnic table, as if it's the most fascinating thing he has ever seen. We all have our pain, and I guess he'd rather forget his.

"Sorry," it's all I manage.

"Listen, shank," he sighs, although he doesn't seem to upset about this situation. "I ain't got all day, and if you're gonna waste my shuckin' time-"

"It was me," I stand up suddenly, trying to breathe. "I beat up Ben."

He gets up, pulling his legs out of the picnic table. "You really think I'm buggin' out that hard?"

"I swear," I race around the table, planting myself in front of him. Alby is much taller than me, and he crosses his arms over his chest as he stares me down, not buying my klunk.

That's fair. I'm not buying much either.

"Please tell me exactly how you, little miss skin and bones, beat up Ben."

Ben isn't a particularly big guy, but he's certainly more muscular than I am. Then I think about how easily Michelle can take anybody else in her path. Her anger; she feels it in her gut and it carries her. Somehow the passion overtakes her body, and becomes the power to her punch.