Two Truths & A Lie

Chapter 6

As far as the clothing went, it was all-too-obvious that Harry raided his brother's closets since he was wearing their old jeans and college tees now, despite me having told him not to.  However, the more fitted jeans, while still having a little space in them, were a vast improvement from the sacks he would wear before - and at least he was alternating shirts.  I was pleased to see that for the rest of the week Harry kept his hair back like I had fixed it.  He had quite a handsome face and it was becoming apparent to me that girls in the hallway were batting their eyelashes and twirling their hair a little more than usual.  Despite their flirtatious attempts, Harry kept his eyes straight forward and didn't speak to anyone.  

On Thursday, I caught Harry in the library.  "Caitlin Walsh has started a rumor that the reason you don't speak is because you can't.  Everyone thinks you're mute," I said. 

Harry's forehead wrinkled and his mouth fell slightly open.  "Is that the truth?"

I raised my hands and let them fall to slap my sides.  "You said you only wanted the truth.  I mean, I guess that's an improvement from being a part of a family of on-the-run murderers."

Harry's frown deepened.  "I'm not mute-"

"Then start talking, Styles.  You literally talk to no one.  It's not going to kill you to talk to someone," I called over my shoulder, keeping at eye out for the librarian and just waiting for her to shush me. 

Later that day, in math, Sydney Stewart timidly asked Harry if she could borrow a pencil.  The look on his face asked, "Didn't you bring your own???"  But once Harry saw me staring him down, he nodded and smiled shortly before handing her a pencil.  "Give it back after class," he grumbled.  He had his panties in a wad, but at least he was speaking to someone other than me.

Louis and I were still distant, holding hands in the hall but rarely talking.  I hated it.  Whatever our relationship was was becoming worse and worse every day, especially with the thought lingering in the back of my mind that he was still sleeping with Clarice.   Gosh, I didn't want to hate her.  I really didn't.  Since the project was thankfully over, Louis would come home and do homework or watch TV with me, relieving me of the suspicion that he might be doing something with her other than the project.  It seemed like, for a day, things were on the up and up - that is, until Harry caught me in the hallway and pulled me into the "haunted" boys bathroom.  No one ever went in there because supposedly, a ghost would play with the boy's wieners while they were peeing. 

"What the-?" 

Harry slapped his hand over my mouth.  "Do you want the truth or no?" He breathed into my ear.  "Nod or shake your head now.  You have one second to decide." 

I nodded quickly, not entirely knowing what truth he was preparing to reveal to me, but I wasn't about to miss out.   Harry forced me to spin around and face him as he put his finger to his lips and pushed me down to the nasty floor.  A groan of protest sounded from my throat but Harry slapped his hand over my mouth again and widened his eyes to tell me to be quiet.  Reluctantly, I bit my lip and tried not to think of the germ and dirt-coated floor as Harry lowered me to it and crawled on top of me.  Thoughts were racing through my mind - what the hell were we doing on the floor?  Why was he crawling on top of me??  He was going to kill me.  He really was from a family of killers.  I should have believed the rumor.  His head hovered above mine, his minty breath falling onto my face as he pushed the finger to his lips to silence me again and then used the same finger to point to the left.  We both turned our heads, only to see under the stalls, two sets of feet in the last stall.  I instantly recognized the first pair of shoes to be Louis' favorite black vans.   The second pair of shoes were a girl's, and I could only imagine who it was.  The less I listened to Harry's breathing and the commotion of the hallway outside, the more I could hear the grunting and muffled moans coming from the last stall.