Repair me

10. Sorry me

News about the fight had spread around the school by the time Sawyer and I were walking back up to the dorms. Nothing could travel faster than a rumour, I was learning that the hard way. From the stares I was receiving and the hushed whispers behind my back I felt like a new exhibit at a zoo. Deja vu swept over me in waves washing me back to when I'd first arrived and had been the crazy creature to stare and point at. I returned the curious stares with a I-can-get-away-with-punching-you scowl.

"Hey," Sawyer forced my glare away from a poor freshman who shrivelled under its intensity, "ignore them, rise above."

"Rising above is a load of bullshit," I declared harshly.

"I know what it's like," Sawyer lowered his voice as we started up the stairs in unison so I was the only one who could possibly hear him, "to be stared at. I'm the only black person in my entire family, usually the only one at any of the events they drag me along to. I get stared at when we walk down the street sometimes. I feel like I should have to apologise just for being with them, even though they're my parents. But whenever my mom noticed I'd seen someone staring she'd always squeeze my hand and whisper in my ear 'rise above'. And she would tilt up head up and wait until I copied and walk along ignoring everyone. If you fake it for long enough suddenly you just don't notice the stares anymore, they stop bothering you as much."

I'd stopped dead on the stairs halfway through his speech so Sawyer was delivering his monologue from the step above me with a quiet seriousness to his face that was such a Sawyer expression. I knew it wasn't his intention, all his stories were meant to help, but they had a way of making me feel so utterly self-absorbed. I had nothing to complain about, my problems were trivial compared to the ones he dealt with on a daily basis. I was being dramatic and self involved, I hoped one day to have even an ounce of the wisdom Sawyer held inside him.

"Rise above," I repeated more to myself than him then tilted my chin up and kept walking. Beside me I felt Sawyer do the same and we walked in tandem, like horses with blinkers on, ignoring the probing stares.

On the top floor Nico was just coming out of his room in sports clothes with a towel thrown over one shoulder clearly about to go for a swim.

"Hi," I smiled cautiously at him trying to gauge his reaction.

"Hi," he replied bluntly, "sorry I've booked the pool, gotta go."

He darted straight past me never meeting my gaze but it felt like he'd just punctured a hole straight through me. All the air was sucked out of me in a rush as I shrivelled into myself.

"He hates me," I spun around to stare despondently at where he'd just disappeared down the stairs.

"He could never hate you," Sawyer insisted with absolute certainty in his voice.

"Cara!" a call cut me off before I could even open my mouth, Ben was standing in his doorway hands on hips, eyes expectant, "come here and tell me all about it."

I obeyed the instruction and one minute later was curled up on Ben's bed with my head in his lap while he stroked my hair and I poured out all my problems. Ben just nodded along and made the occasional grunting noise to tell me he was listening.

"So?" I finished with when the whole story had been recounted.

"So the balls in your court," Ben shrugged, "the boys will kiss and make up no matter what, they've all been friends since kinder-garden. They're not going to be angry at each other forever, so that's not your problem. What you have to do is make a decision. They've all made their intentions very clear, now they're just waiting on you. You have to decide what you want, the balls in your court."