Innocent

Chapter 8: The Scarf

“It's being here now that's important. There's no past and there's no future. Time is a very misleading thing. All there is ever, is the now. We can gain experience from the past, but we can't relive it; and we can hope for the future, but we don't know if there is one.”

~George Harrison

        The final bell rang, and I felt a powerful sense of satisfaction that I had survived the day. I walked towards the door, and stumbled as I bumped into someone. I was mute as I picked up my pencil off the floor and continued to head towards the door. "You're going the wrong way." A voice behind me said. I couldn't shake off the familiarity, but I continued to walk. "You're going the wrong way." The voice repeated in a light sing-song voice. I continued to walk the wrong way. Stubborn and indifferent. "You're going the wrong way, Isabelle." The voice repeated, the light footsteps continued to follow me. I was irritated, "Leave me alone, Storm." I said rudely as I clutched the pencil tighter in my hand, resisting the urge to break it. I stopped walking and turned around. There she was. Storm. Her ocean blue eyes rested on me playfully like she knew I was going to give in to whatever shenanigan she had planned. That was then, this was now. "What do you want, Storm?" I questioned tiredly, her expression softened she looked slightly disappointed.

        "I don't want anything." She replied back, innocently.

        I raised an eyebrow at her.

        She raised her hands up in mock surrender. "I only want us to be best friends again." Storm suddenly looked vulnerable as if she was placing her soul into my hands. It was too late for friendship now, I wish I could let my anger go but I know this built up bitterness would not go away. "Storm, you left me." My voice cracked slightly as the emotion I had buried away began to rise up inside me again. "In court, when the Judge said I was guilty, you turned away from me." I couldn't hold it in anymore. Anger bubbled up inside me like a volcano waiting to explode. "I need to go, could you point me to where Matthew and Mr. Collins are?" Storm was silent and she pointed to the other side of the building. I walked to where Agent Collins and Matthew were patiently waiting.

        "It took you long enough." Matthew said impatiently as he played on his smartphone. His blonde hair and blue eyes were all too familiar. America's golden boy. The teen who was always at his father's side, who always listened, never disobeyed. The picture of perfection. I always envyed that about him. He was too good for his own good. Still, after four years he was still the same person I could tell. The boy at his father's side. The boy with no backbone.

"Let's just go." Agent Collins said, "Isabelle your money." He threw me two black gym bags full of cash.

"Congratulations!" Matthew said sarcastically.

        Agent Collins gave his son a pointed looked. I was missing something. I opened up one of the bags to see as promised a bag full of cash. Why would they do this? All this money? I scoffed at the generosity of New York. "Anywhere you would like to go?" Agent Collins asked eagerly, too eagerly for my liking. Suddenly, it all made sense. They were using this money to spy on me, how? I didn't know yet. "Take me home." I replied curtly. We walked out of the school building with reporters and paparazzi on our tail. Lights flashed and the atmosphere became a miasma, somewhere I didn't want to be. Collins quickly escorted me into his car. This time with no handcuffs.

        After an awkward drive I was finally home. Or at least at my parent's house.

        "They aren't here." Agent Collins answered my unspoken question. "But they will be home in an hour. So will you're other brother." I stayed quiet. My thoughts were constellations I couldn't fathom. "Thank you, Matthew and Agent Collins. I can take care of myself from here." I reached to grab one of the bags but Matthew stopped me.