IT'LL ALWAYS BE CALLUM

2. despite the blood stains, I think it's beautiful

On Saturday morning, I awaken to a sound that I used to think I'd never hear again- Callum's genuine, happy laughter. Ricocheting off the walls, booming through the halls, and bouncing off my bones. Bringing with it a rush of icy cold déjà vu, reminding me to not forget. We have a past, and whether it's good or bad, it has a effect on the way we should treat each other now.
Or at least that's what I tell myself. Don't pretend that he's the boy you used to love more than anything, don't go back to being the innocent blond best friend. You've both changed, don't treat him like the Cal that you used to know.
It is -partly- true. The other part...well he hasn't been back long enough to know.

Last week at school had been interesting. Callum made it clear right away that he didn't want to hang out like we used to. He sat with me at lunch, however; it was weird because it's the first time that my other school friends met Callum.
Cole was not impressed, afterwards when we two walked to Chem 11 he told me that he thought that Callum lived up to all the rumours. I hadn't heard the rumours, so simply nodded with Cole and afterwards asked Tasha what the rumours about Cal were about. Apparently the rumours were that he'd been in juivie, or rehab, or fighting with a volunteer war support group in Pakistan.

I honestly don't know where these rumours come from. It's like there's an anonymous mischief-maker student who invents random things off the top of their head and then spreads it around by word of mouth. Like Gossip Girl but much more boring and much more sneaky, and more imaginative. Like the Pakistani war support group...where in the world did that come from? And people actually believe it. A word of advice: never trust rumours. They have an unfortunate habit of destroying things, people. Like when Max was in grade eight and went out on a date and the next day everyone knew about it and teased them both. The rumour that had been passed around is that they were seen making out in a booth at the frozen yogurt place in the mall, but that was complete nonsense because Max would've told us if he'd had his first kiss.
The girl refused to be seen with Max after being publicly humiliated at school because she didn't want people to start talking again, and her parents to hear the rumours. So that's how a rumour destroyed Max's grade eight relationship.

They can take a selected portion of the truth and twist and weave it into something completely different.

I stare up at my bedroom ceiling, brain moving onto the next hearsay that I'd learned the existence of recently...a somewhat popular one- pregnancy. Of them all, this one I find most frightening. Maternal teenagers have always disturbed me, and I hate even the suggestion that he could have a child.

And I know that's it's not true anyway, there's no use dwelling on lies.
I'd once fantasized about Callum and I in our thirties being a couple and having a kid.
I wish I hadn't been so naïve...
The hope is what I regret most.

Another bout of thunderous laughter later; I have showered, braided my hair, and am dressed in my favourite soft worn-in mom jeans and a black bateau-necked cami, ready to up and face the music.

I pad down the gleaming polished wood staircase, wondering about why in the world Callum has come here, at -I check my phone, sliding it back into one of my rear pockets after- 8:03 o'clock. Freaking early morning hours on a weekend.
I'd expected him to maybe contact me about tonight...because honestly I have no idea what to expect: it used to be our tradition to spend Saturday nights together, but we hadn't been having them regularly for a few months and then he left to live with his mom.

Does he want to regain my trust, our friendship, the whole package? Or is this a quick guilt-filled visit so that he can tell me in person that he'd rather just move on?
A feeling of dread enters my mind at that thought; and I swallow, biting my lip as I reach the bottom of the staircase and walk through the hall to reach the kitchen at the other side of the house, following Callum's laughter. A quieter and musical-sounding chuckle joins in, and I stop. Dad's entertaining? He's usually asleep still at this time, tired from the hospital.
A smile spreads across my face as I realize that he must've gotten the night off, something that rarely happens as he always volunteers to spend extra time looking after his patients. He's a doctor, and the stress really wears on him.