Someone Willing to Stay

Good For Me Too

     I got into my first fight a week after Dylan died.
     A rule that I live by, I don't start fights. It's when someone else decides to open their mouth, when they throw the first punch, that's when I have to put them back into their place.
     My fists are fueled by rage, that's what my counselor at my last school told me. That I have so much hatred pent up inside toward, someone, something, and every-time I get into a fight it just builds up. It feels like a release, but I'm reality it just fuels the fire.
     I told her she was full of shit.
     Now, I'm sitting in seventh period with a giant ass bruise coloring my jaw. And Adam is sitting in a house that he doesn't even live in without a single scratch. And I hate him.
      I hate how he talks to Mel. Not like a brother. Like her owner. I hate how powerless I felt for the two seconds that he had me pinned on the ground. And I hate that I didn't finish the job when I flipped us over. I hate that Mel's voice was enough to stop me.
      She's sitting next to me, I can feel her gaze burning into the side of my head.
I'm not mad at her. A part of me wants to be. She chose him. But I can't be mad at her. I hate that too.
"Take a picture, it'll last longer." I smirk playfully, turning my head to look at her.
Her eyes widen and her cheeks turn red. She shakes her head, "I wasn't-"
"Sure thing."
She rolls her eyes.
Right now, we're supposed to be writing an essay about who we think had the biggest influence during the Civil Rights Movement and why. We only get time to work on our partner projects on Mondays and Fridays. I've written my name and the date at the top.
"You should put Martin Luther King," Mel suggests, "he's an easy one."
I nod, "Good thinking, Mel."
She watches me write his name down high her bottom lip tugged in between her teeth.
"Are you okay? Does your jaw hurt?" She asks quietly.
"Only when I talk, or swallow, or chew, or sit still." I tell her.
She frowns and looks at her hands in her lap, something I've learned that she does when she doesn't know what to say.
"I'm kidding. It wasn't your fault, Mel, I shouldn't have said anything."
"Thank you, though," she says quickly, "for saying something. I mean- he's just a little protective sometimes, but thank you for caring."
I grin, glad to know she's not mad at me.
"Of course I care, Mel."
"I'm sorry I didn't stop him from hurting you."
I roll my eyes, "Please, hurt me? That sucker punch couldn't have knocked over a flower."
She giggles, subconsciously touching her stomach, "Yeah, not even a flower."
"So, what happened? You get grounded?"
She's still holding her stomach and suddenly she brings her hand away and sets it on her desk, "Yeah. Grounded until Friday."
"So you're coming to the party then?"
"Riley told my mom about the party a few days ago, and she told me I could go, and she's against breaking promises," she tells me, "plus I'm pretty sure she was kind of proud of me for skipping, even though Adam wasn't particularly pleased."
"Great," I grin, "we can trash the place together."
"I'm probably just going to hide in the kitchen the whole time." She muses.
I chuckle, "Not on my watch."
She's not leaving my sight, not this time.
"We can all ride theretogether." I tell her, this way I'll be able to keep an eye on her the second we arrive.
You're not her Dad.
But she can call y-
Shut up.
"Sounds good. Mason-"
Her sentence falters.
I've realized that we tend to stare at each other a lot. She's always scared to speak, and I never want to break the silence. I could just stare at her for what seems like forever.
What a creep.
It's just her eyes. And I know that I think about them all the time, and she thinks I'm absolutely insane that I love the golden brown color they are.
"Yes?" I ask her, prompting her to finish her sentence.
"I- I had fun yesterday."
I smile, "Me too, Mel."
"I'm glad that we're friends again."
"Me too."
The bell rings and she shoots me a final smile before grabbing her things and rushing out of the room to her next class. I can't help but notice how she walks with a small limp. That wasn't there yesterday.
"Mason, can I talk to you for a second?"
     On my way out of the classroom, I stop by Mr. Moore's desk.
      "What's up?"
     "I just wanted to say that I've noticed how well you and Melanie have been getting along," he notes, "it's surprising."
     I raise my eyebrows, "Why?"
      "She doesn't work well with others. But, with you, she turns in everything on time, she smiles in class much more often, and you even seem to make her laugh."
      "I'm just very charming."
     Mr. Moore smiles and laughs, "Sure Mason. I just wanted to say, I think you're very good for her."
      I grin, "She's good for me too."
      He dismisses me with a wave as his next class starts entering and I walk out into the hallway.
      "Mason! Thank God," David runs up to me in the hallway, his eyes filled with panic, "there's something wrong with Rob's sister!"
"What? What's going on?"
"She ditched school, something she's never done before, and called Rob crying. We got to pick up some chocolate chocolate or something from the store to calm her down."
"That sounds kind of sexist." I tell him as we both rush down the hallway to get to the parking lot.
"Shut up," he groans, "girls like chocolate and Rob is freaking out and I can't deal with him calling me every five minutes to ask for advice."
"Calm down. Let's go save Rob."

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