Jamie Myers
We found our seats somewhere near the window. All was silent for quite some time. It was the uncomfortable kind, which was surprising to me since I had never felt so uncomfortable than I the way I did with Scar in that moment, and I didn't like it one bit.
"So..." Scar drawled out, "...how does last night affect our plans?"
I lifted my eyes to meet his. "Huh?"
"Francesca."
I slumped in my seat, disappointed a little. "You still want her back? Even after what she ... what she did?"
He tried to laugh, but doing so must've exhausted too much effort because he placed a hand on the gauze wrapped around his head. "Yeah, that's the whole point."
"Well, um, I don't know. Maybe you should just be honest with her."
Scar cracked a smile. "Come on, dude, when does that ever work?"
"I–"
"Speaking of being honest, you haven't been entirely honest with me, now have you?"
"Excuse me?"
Scar sat back into his seat with a smug look on his face. For a second, I thought he was going to bring up the kiss, or the real reason why we got the concussion, but he thoroughly surprised me when he said, "you know all about me and my struggles, and yet, I know next to nothing about you."
I felt my body relax. "It's part of my mystery."
"Well, I wanna know what you're about–you know, other than the fact that you're gay which seems to be the only trait that you have."
"It's a good one, isn't it?"
"I'll start! That birthday cake ice cream is my favorite ice cream in the whole world ... your turn." He gestured towards me, as though expecting me to say something, but I just stared back at him with what I hoped was a dumb look.
"Is Scar your real name?" I countered.
"Quit changing the subject."
Letting go of a bottle sigh, I finished off my ice cream and wiped my hands in a napkin. "Okay, well, when I was a kid, I liked to dress up like a princess." It was a simple statement, one that I didn't expect Scar to react to, but boy was I wrong.
Scar burst into full-on hysteria. Doubling over and clutching his stomach to contain the pain he was inflicting on himself, he allowed the laughter to flow out of the back of his throat and into the air, not caring about how much attention he was drawing to our table. He didn't seem to notice the frown making its way onto my face, but in that moment, I felt like giving him another concussion. "Oh god, that's just ... wow! You know what, that's great! That really made my day, but that just further proves that your only trait is being gay."
"Do you wanna know what I'm good at? Punching people in the face."
Scar's smile quickly morphed into a grimace. "Fine, fine. I needed that, though. It's been a rough week. But to answer your question, no, Scar is short for Scarlet."
I quirked a brow. "Scarlet? That's a girl's name."
He shook his head. "It's a unisex name."
"No..." I continued, trying my best to contain my laughter, "...I'm pretty sure it's a girl's name."
He interlocked his fingers, and sighed. "It was my Dad's name," he blurted out, making me stop laughing altogether, "and he's dead, so I'd rather not be called that anymore."
"I'm so sorr-"
"Yeah."
I felt bad for Scar and his sister. Losing a parent is never easy. In an effort to comfort him, I reached out to place a hand on his, but as soon as he felt the contact, he pulled it away when an unknown voice called my name.
I tore my gaze away from his to meet the stone cold blue eyes of my sister. Her arms were folded against her chest and her right brow was lifted to a strange degree, showing just how unappeased she was. Faint purple spots stained the area underneath her eyes, down her jawline, and to her neck and collarbone, and I instantly swallowed down a lump in my throat, full with guilt.
"So this is where you've been, huh?" She turned her gaze over to Scar to assess him a little. "You've been playing house with your new boy toy?"
Scar looked at me questioningly, but instead of entertaining his confusion, I inched my way out of my seat to stand between him and my sister. "Please, Jill, can we take this outside?" She had began to protest, but I had already latched onto her wrist to pull her out of the ice cream shop. This was the part I had been dreading since walking out on her a few nights ago, and I knew nothing I said would make my actions any better, so I sufficed for a: "I'm sorry."
"Sorry!" she yelled, exasperated. "Sorry for what? Leaving me alone with that man? Leaving me to fend for myself while Doris just looks at me with those goddamn dead eyes of her? Leaving me so you could eat ice cream with Scar Patterson?"
I wanted to tell her that leaving wasn't as easy as she made it seem. I wanted to tell her that I never intended for her to get hurt. But I knew nothing I told her would make her believe me. "Jillian, Scar was drunk and passed out. I had to take him home. He was a real mess, and he ended up in the hospital, and..."
"I haven't seen you in two days!" she screamed. "You left me alone for two days. No calls, no texts, nothing! Just so you could go on dates with a straight boy that wants nothing to do with you if you hadn't manipulated him into thinking he needed you! He's not into you, he's not ever going to be into you, so why would you ditch your own sister over someone you barely even know! Stop interesting yourself into his life!"
"Stop inserting yourself into mine," I retorted.
Her mouth fell open as she stared back at me in disbelief. "Seriously?" Grabbing onto the hem of her shirt, she pulled it up over her head to expose her bra. She turned her back to me and said, "look what he did to me! Look what happened when you left and Eugene lost her temper."
A gasp escaped my lips when I saw the trail of purple bruises running across her back. If I had felt guilty before, then I was surely guilty now. "Jill..."
"Don't do that!" she snapped at me, yelling at the top of her lungs and holding back tears. "When's the last time you got beat? When's the last time you cried? This isn't fair! I'm the one suffering the most out of the both of us when it's your fault that our parents are dead!"
It had been years since Jillian last blamed me for our parents' death, so much so that I thought we were past it, but she always knew how to hit me where it hurt. "Wow," I said, shaking my head in disbelief. "You know what? Being with Scar makes me forget about my shitty life for just a fucking moment. You have friends, you have a boyfriend, you have people that care about you! I don't! So yes, I made up a stupid lie so Scar Patterson would kiss me, and I promised to get him back with his ex so he'd have to spend time with me, and I don't feel bad about it because now I don't feel miserable. Now I don't feel like the scum that you and everyone else have gone out of their way to make me."
In that moment, I had released everything that had been on my chest lately, and it felt pretty damn good. I expected Jillian to retaliate with whatever remarks she had left, but her body was still, frozen, almost. I opened my mouth to speak, but a familiar voice stopped me in my tracks.
"What?" I heard Scar say in a sad and broken voice. I whipped around to face him, but I couldn't bear to see the look on his face. His usually bright eyes had lost all its color, his brows were pulled together, and his lips were down-turned into a frown. He looked like his whole world was crashing down on him.
"Scar."
"Your mom isn't really one of the organizers for the carnival?"
"No, but—"
"So, you embarrassed me in front of the whole school, made my team turn against me, made Francesca think I was gay ... because you wanted to be friends with me ... what? Why would you ... why would—I—what the fuck!"
"Scar, no, listen, it's not like—"
"Just when I thought you were going to actually be a decent dude ... you just ..." He shook his head in disbelief, frowning as he looked at me with disgust. He slowly backed away from us, but not once did he break the deadly stare he was sending me. "Get the fuck out of my life, fag."
His heart was broken, and much to my surprise, mine was too.
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