A Vision of Green (Florence Vaine #2) (16 page)

Layla's expression turns sultry. “Oh we're going to have
tons
of fun, finally some privacy away from all his brothers.”

I cough and try my best not to blush at what she's insinuating.

“
Look at you,” says Layla. “You'd swear you and Frank weren't up to the exact same thing every moment you get to be alone together.”

I look at my shoes and then back up at her. “M-me and Frank, we um, we're not together...any more.”

“
You're joking right?” she almost shouts, before lowering her voice. “You
are
joking, aren't you Flo?”

Of their own accord, my eyes travel to Josh for a split second, and just as I'd expected he's absorbing every word of our conversation, not paying any attention to those talking around him. Great, I can imagine the kinds of conclusions he's going to come to about me and Frank no longer being an item.

“
Not joking Layla,” I tell her quietly.

She stares at me incredulously, shaking her head all the while. “Who ended it?”

“
I did,” my voice is barely audible.

“
Why?”

“
I just n-n-needed some space,” I lie.

“
That's ridiculous and we both know it, but whatever,” she replies, flicking her hair over her shoulder and pushing past me into the changing rooms.

Once she's gone Josh slinks up to me. “Did I hear all that correctly?” he asks, looking positively delighted.

“
Even if you did, it's none of your business and absolutely nothing to do with you,” I tell him.

“
Oh I'd have to disagree with you there. It's a bit of a coincidence that two days after I tell you I'm into you, you go and break things off with bad boy prince charming. I think you might have a soft spot for me after all, Flo.”

Oh for Christ's sake. He really is just far too self absorbed. “M-maybe you should pull your head out of your arse, because the world does not revolve around you Josh.”

He backs away from me then, smiling like the Cheshire cat, hands in the air in surrender. “Hey remind me Flo, what was that quote from Shakespeare about protesting too much?”

“
Why
did
you shave your head anyway?” I counter, and his expression darkens.

With that I turn on my heel and go to get changed for the agony that is physical education. Inside I run into Ingrid and her friends as they change into some fashionable varieties of sports wear, all designed to accentuate their most attractive assets. I hurry to one corner and do my best to get into my grey leggings and baggy t-shirt that has a picture of Joan Jett on the front without showing any part of my body. I got the t-shirt in a charity shop a few years ago. It's so old it was probably owned by someone in Joan's actual heyday. Still, it's one of my favourites in terms of comfy wear.

I hear Ingrid give a high pitched laugh at some comment one of her friends makes. I've got a fair idea that I was the topic of whatever she said. I glance around, but it looks like Layla's already headed outside for class. Caroline's not in today, Lia politely informed me that she's out sick with a stomach bug. So in other words, I'm all alone with no back up against the snide comments of Ingrid and her girls.

“
She probably got it in a second hand store,” Ingrid says as she pulls on her red velour tracksuit pants. You know, the ones that say “Juicy” or something similarly inappropriate right across the arse. I wait for her to turn around to confirm my suspicions, and I'm right, only it says “Lush” instead. Well, I was close.

“
It was a charity shop, if you m-must know,” I inform her casually. I'm determined to stick up for myself with these girls. Like Dad, they'll walk all over you given half the chance. I'm not doing so well with him, but I can at least aim for one out of two.

Ingrid eyes me incredulously. Clearly it's not a regular occurrence for girls like me to back talk her when she puts us down.

She snickers and eyes the brown haired girl beside her conspiratorially. “Is there a difference? Second hand or charity, either way, it's all eww.” She fake shudders to fully express how gross she finds the idea of wearing second hand clothes.

“
You know it w-wouldn't kill you to be nice Ingrid, you might actually find it makes you feel better than being a bitch all the time.” My statement solicits several “ohs” from Ingrid's friends.

She stands up and takes two steps toward me. “Call me a bitch again and see what happens, stutter girl.”

I'm fully dressed now, so I zip up my bag and turn to face her. Inside I'm dying, but on the outside I try to compose myself and portray a demeanour of calm confidence. All of this I do before looking Ingrid in the eyes and spelling out the letters. “B-I-T-C-H.” I don't stutter once, and my heart soars. What's this feeling? Triumph? I think I could get used to it.

She glares with all of the animosity of a bull charging a red flag. “Don't push me,” she spits out. “Or you'll regret it.”

She's trying to come across as threatening, but in her aura I can see that she's taken aback and embarrassed that I'm not letting her have her easy victory in front of her friends. I also want to laugh at her attempt to threaten and intimidate me with the insinuation of violence. This girl probably hasn't experienced so much as a pat from her parents in her entire life. It's all fair and well to kick someone in the leg during a football game, like she did to me before, but I'm sure that if she was the one at the mercy of somebody else she'd start crying like a baby. I've been beaten on since day one, which means I've built up a phenomenal tolerance for pain. I don't enjoy being hit, but I can take it if I have to.

I stare her down. She steps back and laughs, before looking over at me with the most condescending sneer I've gotten from her yet.

“
Not even worth it,” she says and leaves the changing rooms with a flourish, followed by her posse who all give me equal sneers on their way out.

Those Monday CSPE group meetings are going to be even more unbearable now. I thought I could just about manage working with Ingrid, but not after this. Maybe the best route is to ignore her completely. I sit there for a minute, thinking about how I'm going to deal with communicating with her, when it suddenly hits me that I actually just stood up for myself. And not with Frank or anybody else behind me to back me up. I stood up for myself all alone, just me, being brave for a change. A small tittering laugh escapes my lips, then I take a deep breath and head outside.

The very first thing I notice is Frank. He's sitting on a bench beside the basketball court with his head in his hands, as Layla, Ross, Alex, Christian and several others play a game. I go straight over and sit down beside him, nudging him with my shoulder.

“
You okay?” I whisper.

He lets his hands fall to his lap and looks at me, his blue eyes seem unusually tired and strained.

“
It's nothing,” he answers. “We all have days like this, me and the boys. Most days I have it under control, but then there are the rare days when the demon wins.”

I let out an involuntary gasp. “Did you do anything bad?”

He shakes his head. “No, but I almost did. It was so stupid too, some guy accidentally bumped into me in the corridor. All of a sudden the demon saw a chance and tried to take over. It took every ounce of my self control to keep from pummelling the guy's face in.” He laughs joylessly. “All because he bumped into me, it wasn't even on purpose. Days like these I feel like I'm losing it.”

Wow. I never thought Frank had to keep his demon in check so much. Well, at the back of my mind I did, but he's just always so well put together and self-possessed that I tend to forget what it might be like to be inside his head.

Carefully, because I can see that he's holding on by a very thin thread, I put my hand on his arm and ask, “Does this help?”

At my touch, his posture immediately goes less rigid. “Yes. Thank you.”

God, I could help him so much more if only my dad wasn't being such a tyrant. I was all set to further distance myself from Frank today, but seeing him like this, I just can't bring myself to do it. I tighten my fingers around his hand as an idea hits me.

“
Come w-w-with me,” I tell him.

Interest colours his flames as I lead him back into the school building, ducking to make sure the teacher doesn't see us leaving. He's over on the football pitch, preoccupied with setting up a match. Once inside I drag Frank into the first room I see, which is a small staff bathroom. I shut the door tight and turn over the lock. When we're alone I throw my arms around his neck and pull him close to me. Our bodies seem to melt into each other. Since my touch calms Frank, I thought I'd provide him with a little extra help by giving him a good, long,
platonic
hug. Although I think I misjudged my ability to do anything platonic when it comes to Frank.

“
What's this for?” he asks, and I can tell he's smiling.

“
Just thought I'd help you calm d-down a little,” I reply, my face nestled in the crook of his neck.

He's silent as he exhales in relief, taking in the full benefit of the peace I give him. He doesn't say anything for a long time, just stands there holding me.

I actually get a little sleepy, it feels so good to be this close to him.

Frank breaks the silence when he says softly, “Flo, honey, put your hands on me.”

I freeze in my place. “W-w-what?”

“
I need skin on skin,” he replies. “Please, if you want to help me, this will help.”

“
I don't know...”

He interrupts me when he grabs my hand and shoves it under his t-shirt, placing it flat against his toned stomach. I suck in a breath.

He leans close to my ear and asks, “Do you mind if I touch you too?”

My eyes go wide, but still, I shake my head to say,
no, I don't mind at all
. He slips his hands beneath my top and circles his arms around my hips. I try not to sigh. How can I leave Frank alone when he makes me feel this good? By the way he's breathing so heavily right now, I'd say I have a similar effect on him.

“
This is...nice,” he breathes against the top of my head.

“
Mm hmm,” I mumble, my eyes closed tight. I let my hand drift down over his abs before resting on his lower back. He shudders and it almost undoes me.

Then I'm dragged out of our moment of peace when the door handle suddenly turns. Someone's on the other side, trying to get in. I jump and look up at Frank. He grins with mischief and puts his finger to his lips for me to stay quiet. Since this is a staff bathroom I'm going to bet that it's a teacher out there. They try the handle one more time and then we hear footsteps echoing down the hallway as they walk away.

Frank and I both sigh in relief and then hurry back outside, trying our best not to burst out laughing, but failing entirely.

At the end of the day I set out on my walk home, all alone, waving to Frank and the boys as they exit the gates in their van. I had to stubbornly turn down a lift from them as I can't have my dad catching me with Frank a third time. Perhaps I can still maintain our tentative friendship without Dad discovering it if I'm careful enough.

Thoughts of him and Sal make me hesitant to go straight back to the house. I want to avoid them as much as possible, so I decide to go for a stroll around the town for a while. I have both the money I got last night from the reading I did for Derek and the cash I found beneath Gran's sink. It probably won't break the bank if I eat my dinner out just this once, so I head to a small café close to the edge of town. The waitress leads me to a table by the window, from which you can just about catch a small glimpse of the forest. Those trees seem to be haunting me lately.

I order a grilled chicken sandwich and a salad, and then yet again I find myself drawn to stare at the part of the woods I can see from my place by the window. After about five minutes the waitress returns with my food, I thank her and dig in, famished after a long day at school.

Just as I'm finished my sandwich and dabbing my mouth with a napkin, something unusual catches my eye. A blurry white figure hovers on the periphery of the trees. It's got a long body and four legs, and after a moment it finally becomes clearer to me. It's a horse. But not just any horse, the hazy ghost horse that we all saw dive into the swamp on Monday night.