Ribs

Ribs: Chapter 1

Chapter 1

"You can fake that smile for a hollow while. But the kids all learn, once those bridges burn." - "Pot Kettle Black" by Tilly and The Wall

If I were going to kill someone, it would be quick and clean. A perfect bullet to the head, one strike that didn't last long. Something that would barely spill any blood. I wouldn't want any mess, wouldn't want to deal with minute details. Not the way my mom died, hung from pole on highway I-87, arms and legs slashed.

I draw a circle on my paper, glancing up at the clock for a single second. Mr. Richards is droning on about some kind of war, that's probably just like all of the other wars that have happened before. I start to draw a flower, hoping Mr. Richards won't call on me. But it seems that that just isn't my luck.

"Dawn," Mr. Richards says. I hardly glance up from my paper. "Why don't you tell us who that is?" His face, including his receding hairline, is a blur. A fog that I can hardly see through. I don't remember what he asked.

"What?" I blink, confused. I can never focus anymore. Mr. Richards sighs.

"Maybe you should be doing art in Art class." He says. "Anyone?" Maria raises her hand.

"He was a great general in World War I." She says anxiously. I know her type, the ones who just need a smile from the teacher to feel good about themselves.

"Nice job, Maria." He says. He continues his lecture about World War generals and I return to drawing. Until a piece of paper lands on my desk.

'Hey' is all it says, scrawled in a boyish handwriting in blue ink. I sigh and look up to meet Seth's eager stunning blue eyes. Doesn't this guy get it? I'm not interested. The bell rings and I tuck the note into my pocket, pressing it all the way down. I quickly grab my bookbag off the chair, but unfortunately I'm not fast enough.

"Hey," Seth says, falling rhythmatically into step with me as I glide down the hallway. It almost ticks me off how he has no problem keeping up with my fast pace.

"Hi," I mumble. I let my straight brown hair fall towards my face. I can see Seth smiling from the corner of my eye.

"So I was wondering-"

"No thanks, Seth." I cut him off. I don't need this right now. Not now. Not two weeks after mom died.

"Ouch," Seth mutters, mockingly clutching his chest. "Wait 'a shoot a guy down." I wait for him to leave, for him to finally get the point. But nada. So I ignore him, and switch directions, running right into Corey.

My books drop from my hands, a huge pounding against my ribs suddenly starts. I flush, seeing Corey for the first time in a week. "Woah," He says in his deep voice, and holds me by the shoulders to stop from falling. His dark, thick black eyebrows crease. "Be careful there."

"Hi," I say, but it sounds like a whisper. It's so strange seeing him at school, rather than...

Corey nods, before grabbing up two of my books with his long fingers. He hands them to me, before mumbling something about having to go. Seth stumbles over to me then, grabbing up my books. I feel helpless as I stare after Corey, watching him disappear as the bell rings and tells me I'm late, again, for class. I squeeze my books tightly to my chest and shut my eyes.

I wish things were different.

Corey brushes my hair away from my eyes, his soft skin drifting over my cheek. I automatically close my eyes, soaking in the smell of him, wanting to remember him forever. Don't leave me, I want to say. But I'm afraid if I say that, I'll scare him away. We haven't talked about earlier, at school. But I don't want to.

I open my eyes and find Corey's emerald eyes staring at me. His finger traces the outline of my lips, and we lay in silence. His hand reaches out to me again, this time pulling me under his spell and into his kiss. Just the movement of our lips makes me want to stay here forever, in this bubble of perfection. In here, my mother never really died. Dad never turned ugly, and Corey is all mine.

I find myself tracing his ribs. "Always count your ribs," My mom would always tell me, "They're the only things protecting your heart." One, two, three. I can hear Corey's breathing, calm breaths, as I finish. His skin that covers his ribs is soft, smooth. Perfect.

"What are you doing?" He asks me in his low voice. I stare at his bare chest as I answer.

"Counting."

We're silent for awhile. His room is cold, which I don't mind because he pulls me closer. I wish we were more than this. Something better, something more than just friends with benefits. I wish we had never had that week long break after I'd come to him, crying as he pulled me in his arms and I told him what had happened. I'd gone too far, maybe. Troubled him with darkness that he didn't need.

"I like your freckles." Corey tells me after a long while. I blush.

"You do?"

"Yea."

When Corey finally drifts asleep, I get out of the bed, and, sadly, have to leave.