The Beginning of Never (The Never Trilogy #1) (4 page)

My wild hair was the stark difference between us
because it was so different from her slick, shoulder-length one. She’d tried
for years to grow it past mid-length but when it seemed like it never would,
she’d just cut it into a bob and maintained the style. I brushed my thumb along
the side of her face. I missed her so much.

She’d been in tears when she’d zoomed out of the house
three years ago, and I’d been beside her in the front seat. It had all started
with an argument in their room, and although I couldn’t decipher what it was
about, I hadn’t bothered to try because for as long as I could remember, it had
been the norm. Also, I’d figured since the fight had been dragging on for a
couple of days, that that day would be the day it finally ended.

I couldn’t have been more correct.

She emerged from the room just as I came out of mine,
more furious than I’d ever seen her and jogged hurriedly down the stairs.

“Mom!”
I called and ran after
her, but she was already in the car by the time I reached her. So I went
around, and got into the front seat before she could stop me. Even though she
tried to get me out, I refused, until finally, she set the gears in motion and
zoomed out of the driveway.

“I’m going to Aunt Leslie’s,” she said and I lightly
touched her hand, hoping it would provide some sort of comfort for her. She
looked at me, saw something in my face, and started crying again. She’d never
allowed me to see her cry, but sometimes I had heard her. Heavy drops streamed
down uncontrollably, and soon they moved to racking sobs but through it, she
managed to keep driving. Only when we were more than fifteen minutes into the
drive had she finally stopped. I chose not to interrupt, understanding her need
to express some of the pain, and then I asked her the question that had been
lodged in my heart for as long as I could remember.

“Did you ever suspect it’d be like this? Before you
married dad I mean.” I asked, and that was the last time I looked into her
eyes.

She’d turned to me, surprised … and then I’d heard the
deafening blare.

I never did get the answer to that question, and I
suspected that it would always nurse a particularly outstanding sore in my
heart. Someday, I’d need an answer to it, but never get to hear the one that I
would have wanted to hear the most.

“The truck came out of nowhere,” I’d been told. “And at
the speed she’d been going, it was impossible to slow down.”

One
statement,
and it had
changed my life forever. Somehow I’d survived, but I was tired of wishing that
I hadn't. A tear fell from the corner of my eye, and created a blot for itself
like all the others that already dotted the picture. I brushed it away, and
then did the same for the rest that had pooled in my eyes. Replacing my things
back into my bag, I stood to my feet and left the library. I decided to leave
the picture in my locker for the weekend, because if I took it with me, it was
just going to make everything worse.

“Don’t you dare cry,” I warned myself as I headed
towards the overhead walkway that connected my block to the library, but it
didn’t stop the tears from coming.
 
My
throat had tightened from the pain and as each moment passed, it became more
and more difficult to breathe.

The walkway was lined with impressive cast stone
columns that showed the exquisite outlay of the school through their opened
arcs; its
colourful
landscape and medieval
structures. Usually, it was all able to draw appreciation from me but not
today, because with every step that I took, the more I wanted to drop to the
floor and just lie there, exhausted from the dejection.

Soon I got into my block, and continued to head down
the hallway which led to the stairs that would take me down towards my locker.
I held the photograph to my chest and decided that I was allowed to cry, until
I got to my locker. But when I neared the staircase and heard the laughter from
a couple of boys that hung around it, I was forced to quickly wipe the tears
off my face with the sleeves of my dress shirt.

There were about four of them, and they turned to watch
me as I approached. Even though it didn’t particularly bother me, the last
thing I’d expected from them was any trouble. But when I reached the stairs and
asked the two boys that were standing in front of it to excuse me so that I
could pass through, they refused.

“Why are you crying?” one of the boys that stood in
front of me asked. His hair was a reddish brown and his entire face was covered
in freckles. The one beside him had a long bony nose, and a disheveled mass of
jet black hair.

“Excuse me,” I repeated again, not in the mood for
whatever prank they wanted to pull.

“Come on, talk to us,” one of the other boys that were
behind me said, but I didn’t turn around. Suddenly, I felt his fingers slip into
my hand by my side, and swiftly pull away the picture of my mother. Instantly,
I whirled around.

“Give it back!” I yelled, and went after him, but he
was walking backwards and away from me.

“Oh, so is this what you were hiding?” he said with a
mocking smile. The sight of the picture in his hands as he held it away from
himself and stared at it, made my skin crawl. I wanted to kill him. I quickened
my steps as I tried to catch up, but when I almost reached him, he made a sharp
‘U’ turn and continued walking backwards, but now, towards his friends again.

“Let me see,” another boy said, and before I could get
to them, the boy that had the picture had passed it on.
 
I wanted to run mad.

“What are you doing you bastards?” I cried, and went
after the one who now had the picture. But he too passed it on before I could
get to him.

“Relax,” I heard them say from somewhere beyond the
fury that had set my ears on fire. “Just have fun with us.”

“Give it back!” I cried, and went after the Indian boy
that they had now given it to, but he passed it on, and this time to the red
haired boy that had been the first to stop me. I didn’t even realize what I was
going to do but one moment I could see him, and the next, I had rushed towards
him and shoved him with all my strength.

The last thing he had expected was to be thrown down
the stairs but he was lucky, because at the last moment, he was able to grab
unto his friend beside him who had also immediately held unto the wooden
handrail next to him, to keep from flying down the stairs. But, because the
shove was so forceful, his hand had still slipped away from his friend’s. The
reflexive grip had broken his fall, so instead of crashing unto the stairs’
landing, he’d only tumbled down and managed not to turn the entire episode into
a nightmare for everyone involved.

Everyone gasped as he fell back, including me, and we
all watched hoping that he would be okay. When barely a few seconds after, he
groaned and started trying to rise to his feet, everyone was able to let go of
the breath that they had been holding.

Then they all turned towards me. They were all looking
at me like I was insane, and before I knew it, the boy that had been beside him
but had been saved by his grip on the handrail, shoved me.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” he barked, and came
after me even as I stumbled, and then fell to the ground from the impact of his
shove. Turning around, I immediately tried to get up but before I could lift
myself up from my knees, he reached me and with the side of his feet, cleared
my legs off the ground. The sweep was more with the intention to keep me on the
ground and humiliate me than to actually hurt me, but it didn’t stop my jaw,
elbows and knees from being knocked against the linoleum floor.

I turned to see that the rest of them had gathered and
were watching me, with barely controlled anger on their faces. However, when
the fear really gripped my heart was when the one that I had pushed down the
stairs finally emerged, and started to come towards me with eyes ablaze with
fury.
One of his friends held his hand and tried talking him
out of whatever he wanted to do but he refused, and continued walking towards
me, his eyes fixated on mine.

“What’s happening?” I heard someone roar, and they all
simultaneously turned. I looked up to see the blue-eyed boy staring at us with
shock on his face. Then he recovered and hurried past them, towards me.

“Are you okay?” he asked when he reached me. I nodded,
and tried to push him away as he held my arms to pull me up, so that I could
get up on my own.

“What are you still doing here?” he yelled at the boys,
and immediately, they started to turn away and head down the stairs. Only the
red-haired one stopped, and making sure my eyes met his glare, he raised his
arm up to show me the picture of my mom that he had in his hand. With a dirty
smile on his face, he lifted his second hand to the edge of the picture and
ripped it, straight through the middle.

I gasped, tears filling my eyes again as I watched the
pieces drift to the floor. He was still going to take a moment or two to gloat,
but when the blue-eyed boy turned and made to walk towards him, he fled.
Hurrying over to the ripped pieces, I bent down to retrieve them and tried to
see if it would ever be possible for me to piece them back together.

“Why did you let them go?” I yelled at the blue-eyed
boy, my insides twisting with pain. At that moment I felt so alone, and
cold,
and the huge emptiness inside of me felt like it had
widened out even more.

Rising to my feet, I walked over to him and shoved him
but it only moved him back a few steps. Wiping the tears off my face, I turned
to pick my backpack up from the floor, and with one last glare at him, walked
out of the hallway.

The incident set the pace for my entire weekend, and it was horrible.
I’d returned to my room and spent the rest of the Friday in bed and bitter.
Soon, Saturday rolled by and it was another nightmare because it was my
birthday. And each time it came around, the feeling that I had somehow cheated
my mum out of her life only to have one more year added to mine rose up, and
tormented me. My cramps had also come up at varying times throughout the
weekend, but it had always passed as quickly as it came and for that, I had
been grateful.

To take my
mind away from it all, I’d stayed in bed with a Julie Garwood novel and
finished it just before dinner. Olivia constantly had friends over so I also
had to put up with
all the
racket they made, until I
started wishing I could just collapse again, and remain unconscious for a while
so that I could get away from everything.

The dejection
continued all weekend long but by the time Monday rolled by, I didn’t feel so
heavy hearted anymore. However, I was in class during third period when Mr.
Barron called my name. I'd been lost in thought about the novel I’d read over
the weekend so I didn't hear him the first time. But the sharp bark that
followed had been more than enough to call me to attention.

He waited
until I reached his table to relay the message, and I appreciated it immensely
when he did it in a lower tone than he usually spoke in. The entire class was
watching with ardent curiosity.

"The
headmaster wants you in his office," he said, and must have seen the fear
that flashed across my eyes because he asked. "Is everything
alright?"

It was said in
a tone that relayed genuine concern instead of intrusive curiosity, so I
shrugged my shoulders instead of just ignoring the question.

"It'll be
fine," he said, and I acknowledged his condolence with a nod.

The lady who
had come to deliver the message smiled automatically at me before leading me to
the office, which was located in the administrative tower.

The
headmaster’s waiting room was empty when I arrived, but when the entrance doors
swung open a few minutes later, I looked up to see one of the boys that had
attacked me on Friday; the dark-haired one that had pushed me to the floor. I
only noticed that he was limping slightly when the other three filed in behind
him.

The woman that
had come to get me came in last, and then closed the door behind her. Again,
she smiled at me when she saw my puzzled look, but offered no explanation. All
four boys took their seats in front of me so I turned away and ignored them. I
did notice that the red-haired boy that had torn up my mother’s picture was
bruised on the side of his face, and had a bandage across his nose.
What had happened afterwards to get them
this way?
I wondered.

My answer came
a few minutes later when the door opened again, and the blue-eyed boy walked
in. As soon as he saw me, he stopped in his tracks. I held his stare since I
had no idea what the problem was, and assumed he had something to say. Instead,
his eyebrows drew together to form a small frown on his forehead, and the action
convinced me that I was the last person he wanted to see today. Offended, but
too confused to look away, I watched him take a seat at the extreme edge of the
room, away from all of us.

Everyone was
quiet, but since I couldn't control myself I continued to sneak peeks at the
boy as he plugged in his earphones, effectively blocking the rest of us out.

The door that
led to the headmaster’s office eventually opened, and a bright woman with
streaks of white running through her hair, and a pair of piercing brown eyes
poked her head through.

"Mr.
Deacon will see you all now,” she said, and the boys rose to their feet. Their
groans, low but unified enough to sound their grief, followed them as they
filed in though the open door. The blue-eyed boy stood to his feet also and
without a glance at me as he passed, went with them. I started to rise then but
the woman shook her head.

"Just
hold on dear, we’ll be with you soon," she said, and shut the door behind
her. I stared at it, and tried to slow my breathing but failed. I was nervous,
because although the incident hadn’t entirely been my fault, I had inflamed it
by pushing the boy down the stairs. Rising to my feet, I stood and paced around
the huge reception, ignoring the occasional glance from the receptionist. Ten minutes
later the door clicked open again and I was told to come in.

Immediately I
rushed forward, but stopped just at the door until the headmaster invited me to
stand in front of his gigantic oak desk, a few feet away from the others. In
all my years here this was the first time that I had ever been in Mr. Deacon’s
office, and as I took a quick glance at the huge, and unwelcoming room, I hoped
with all my heart that it would be my last.

"Miss
Baker," he called, and I turned my head to meet the gaze of the tall man
I'd only see from afar in my three years at Lancaster Academy. He took off his
glasses before he started speaking to me, and that instantly made him look less
aged and intimidating.

"Miss
Baker," he called again, and I focused my attention on the hardness that
lined the corners of his mouth. "Mr.
Roque
tells
me that his assault of these boys was because they attacked you after school
hours on Friday. Is this true?"

I couldn't
resist a glance at the blue-eyed boy, whose surname I had now found out was
Roque
. He was watching me, but moved his eyes away after a
few seconds. I returned mine to the headmaster.

"Yes,"
I said.

He leaned back
against his chair and asked. “Could you narrate the incident to me?"

I nodded, and
went through what had happened as accurately as I could. Only when I stopped
did I realize that my heart was pounding in my chest, and automatically, I
turned again to gaze at the boy. He was watching me.

"Did Mr.
Roque
tell you anything after this?" he asked.

I shook my
head. "He didn't. I haven’t seen him since last Friday." I turned to
the other boys. "I haven’t seen any of them."

“Well based on
what they've all told me, that seems to be accurate.
Mr
Roque
here took it upon himself to, as you can see,
thrash these two over here. But their houseparent intervened and put a stop to
it. Quite frankly, I am gravely disappointed in all of you, and even you Miss
Baker because although you were provoked, a lot more damage could have been
done by pushing Clinton down the stairs.”

“
Mr
Roque
has also been considered
to replace the current
Pendle
House prefect, since we
are not certain that he would be returning this term, but this incident has
definitely disqualified him.”

My mouth
dropped open in surprise as I turned to look at the boy, but he seemed unmoved.
In fact, it looked as if the anger I had previously sensed from his gaze was
cooling off and in its stead, his usual cool mask of quiet detachment was
replacing it. Still, I felt horrible, like I had somehow cost him this. The
slight pain around the corners of my stomach intensified, but I stifled it
enough to speak.

"Excuse
me, but he didn’t do anything wrong. He was just trying to help me," I
said, and for about a second, the room became completely silent.

Mr. Deacon was
the first to speak. "I understand that," he said. "But he went
too far."

"But I
..." I started to argue, but in a solid voice the boy said, "Let it
go."

I ignored it.

"Who
knows what else they would have done?" I proceeded to argue. "He did
the right thing."

"I'm not
disputing that," the headmaster said. "But he should have reported
the incident immediately after, instead of taking matters into his own hands.
This is a grave issue – harassment is not tolerated here and neither is
bullying. These boys obviously fear him enough to have let go the minute he
came around, so he should have reigned in his temper. If their houseparent
hadn't intervened, one could only imagine how much more damage he could have
caused."

"But Mr.
Dea
–"

"Nora let
it go!" the boy repeated and this time I listened, and kept my mouth shut.
Another cramp twisted the lower part of my abdomen and I briefly closed my eyes
to stomach the pain.

"Are you
alright?" the headmaster asked. I nodded and although he didn't look like
he believed me, he didn’t force the issue. He turned to the battered boys.

“The
appropriate punishment is to suspend all of you, but for now I need you all to
leave. I’ll send my decision across as soon as it’s made.” And with that, we
all filed out of the room.

The cramps worsened
as I walked slowly out of the office, and headed back to my class. As I walked
along, the pain heightened to such an unbearable degree that I had to stop and
bend over. I refrained from groaning out loud and had to squeeze my eyes shut
to battle the pain. I could barely hear anything, and as I tried to regain my
composure, I thought back to what I had eaten that would have caused it to get
this bad.

I figured the
yoghurt I’d had in the morning for breakfast had something to do with it,
because although I sometimes felt slightly discomforted during my cycles, there
had only been a handful of times when it had gotten so bad.

Another spasm
hit and this time I doubled over, more than grateful that the hallway was
empty. Eventually crouching down so that I could stomach the pain, I slapped my
hand over my mouth to stifle any unexpected cries, and tried desperately to
breathe as deeply as I could. Somehow it worsened, and I was just about to lie
on the floor and fold into a ball until it passed, when a pair of arms touched
my shoulders.

"Are you
alright?" I was asked, but I was in too much pain to respond. The arms
retreated and then came around me again to try to lift me up. I slapped them
away.

"
Ow
!" I heard the small complaint, but I was too
occupied to care. The pain was reducing now and slowly, my breathing was
returning to normal. Inclining my head a little to the side, I turned to see
who it was and closed my eyes again when I realized it was
him
. I felt so ashamed that yet again, there was a reason to be
thoroughly embarrassed in front of him.

"I'm
fine," I said as I started to get up, but found myself struggling. He
tried to assist me and again, I made to slap his hand away. He managed to pull
it out of the way so my hand met with thin air.

"Would you
stop that?" he said, and I sensed him straighten to his full height.

"I'm
fine," I repeated in an almost whisper, and tried again to get up on my
own. I eventually did, with my palms stretched out on the floor for support,
but just as soon as my knees began to straighten, another awful cramp struck
and I was back to my knees. I was thankfully saved from falling headfirst onto
the floor when his hands shot out to catch me. Before I knew what was
happening, I was in his arms, and being carried to the infirmary.

I vehemently
wanted to protest, and was even consciously gearing myself up for it, but then
I suddenly didn't care. Wrapping my hands around his neck to make my weight
lighter, I clung to him, my breathing louder than I would have liked.

In no time at
all, I was being lowered onto a bed and almost immediately, I heard the
familiar voice of the nurse that had treated me the last time, enter the room.

"What's
wrong with her?" she asked as she headed over. I began to think about how
I'd have to ask him to get out so that I could explain, but to my utter
surprise and embarrassment,
he
explained.

"Menstrual
cramps," he said, and I felt my face turn a bright red.

"I'm
fine." I said, but the nurse gave me an incensed look.

"Didn’t I
just
see him carrying you in
here?" she asked. Then she turned around and headed back into her office.
She came out with a file a few minutes later, along with a small tray. She told
me to sit up, which I did, and I collected the tray from her to down the two pills
in the small plastic cup.

My back was
turned to him since I was still too embarrassed by everything that had happened
over the past few days.
God, I wished he
would just leave
.

"Stay
until lunch to rest- you should feel much better by then," she said, and
then she turned to the boy, "Thanks for bringing her in again. Do you have
any classes now?"

"Yeah, I
do," he answered.

"Well,
you can just get to it then. You can come by for lunch to check up, and maybe
bring a sandwich for her."

"Okay,"
he said, and I heard him start walking around the bed. He was soon in my line
of vision and I watched, a tumult of emotions filling me, as he walked out of
the infirmary without so much as a glance back. I laid back down right after
he'd left, but found myself unable to sleep. Some of it was due to the
lingering pain and discomfort around my midriff, while the rest, which was
actually most of it, had to do with him.