26. Swim Trunks and a Sundress

                                    

                                          
Tuesday, April 18th
My breath still staggers when I escape the club. Or more so, I was dismissed once the bell rung and regarded it as an escape. There's an ache across my chest, my skin remembers the pressure of the weight, the pain, the despair. My palms sting where I clung to the bar. I'm still wobbly on my legs. Lightheadedness makes everything spin as if I was in a carrousel. With my head properly low, I walk back down the corridor I took to get here and reach my locker. The hallway slowly fills up as students return from their last class of the day. I lock my throat, trap every single drop of feeling inside.
With a wham at my back, Barb slots herself between me and my still closed locker. I don't even jump, dull all over from the lingering physical pain and emotional strain. Barb quirks an eyebrow at me.
"How did it go?" she asks. I exhale shakily, try to find my voice.
"I need a new phone. That's how it went." I don't have it in me to hide the self-induced dullness that runs through my bloodstream.
I can read Barb well enough to know that the reason her mouth shifts the way it does is because she can't hardly conceal her worry. I'm not sure why she still feels the need to hide such feelings after years of knowing each other.
"I'm fine," I say to shut down the endless streams of questions flashing behind her pupils. I shoo her away to open my locker.
"Couldn't you... sue him?" The usual hallway chatter has arisen again, she needs to talk closer to me than before.
I clench my jaw, remind myself of the idiot I was to get myself in such a situation. "I snuck into his house. He could sue me." I reach for my backpack. My arm feels like jelly and my palm like raw flesh.
I glance at Barb. She blinks, tries to cheer me up with a smile. Her serious expression falters into sickening positivity. "If it can make you feel better..." It won't. But I allow her to go on. "I was invited to a swimming match after school this Friday," she tells me and her eyes sparkle and I feel bad for not giving a flying shit.
"What does it have to do with me?" I swear I try to be delicate. Her smile flattens a bit anyway, her shoulders fall.
"You're invited too, of course. I, well, thought it could be nice. Maybe give yourself a break, you know?" At the hopefulness I see in her, I turn my head away. She needs to be honest with herself, Tavish is the one torturing me, not myself. I can't grant myself a break just because I want to. But I feel too drained to explain all that.
I fling my bag over my shoulder and start walking. Barb follows close. I choose the second best answer to deliver after such a question.
"Yeah, alright."
She giggles, somewhat happier than usual. If I had enough energy to properly fuel my brain, I would have found her reaction suspicious. But it's not the case so it just flies over my head.

Friday, April 21st
I realize why Barb bugged me about the swimming competition all week once I settle in the bleachers. The competitors adjust their goggles and their tight swimming trunks. If Barb was right about me drooling over Tavish, then I'm definitely right about her drooling over Blair.
"Brendon High school's captain, Blair McCloud, versus Hamilton High school's star swimmer, Nicky Valentine!" the speakers announce.
From the handshake and brief hug the competitors exchange, I assume the match is friendly. Blair regains his departure spot. His swim cap dangles in his loose grip. The light that filters through the high windows reflects on the sharp dips and curves of his toned abs. He flips his hair back and for some reason it's damp already. Maybe he practised, maybe he wanted to up his sex appeal. Seeing the twinkling in Barb's eyes, I'd bet on the latter. For some reason I can't put a finger on, he's looking right back at her like she's the only one in the room. Like his friends that cheer his names and choreographed a stupid dance and drew up on some posters don't matter. I'd be offended in their place.