That Girl

The next day, it rained.

Finley could tell that it was raining before she even looked out of the window. Hell, she could tell before she even got out of bed. Her shoulder was aching, something that only happened in the rain or cold. She knew it was because of the arthritis building up because of the gunshot wound that tore through her shoulder blade.

She sat up slowly, rubbing her shoulder as she did so, before climbing out of bed. She had more than enough time to get ready for school, not that it would take long either way. She pulled on her robe and walked down the hall to the kitchen, making herself a bowl of Apple Jacks and setting it on the table. She walked back to the cabinets and pulled out an amber vial of pills--she didn't take them often, just when the pain was too much. And even then, the Naproxen in the bottle didn't take away the pain, it just helped with the inflammation. And that was good enough for her. She swallowed a pill before sitting back down at the table and eating her breakfast.

"Morning."

Finley smiled around a spoonful of cereal. "Morning. How'd you sleep?"

Robert shrugged. "You?"

Finley shrugged as well.

"Your shoulder wake you up?" he asked, eyes landing on the bottle of pills left on the counter.

"Yes."

He nodded. "Eat another bowl or your stomach will hurt later," he told her.

"Will do."

"We'll leave in twenty minutes."

Finley nodded and poured herself another bowl of cereal. She finished it quickly before retreating to her room to change. Deciding on a pair of jeans, a black cami with a gray plaid button up, a black American Apparel hoodie, and her favorite ankle boots, she stuffed all of her books into her bag. She wasn't concerned with her hair or makeup--she had no one to impress. She pulled her hood over her hair as she met her father by the front door.

"Marshall Walker will be over when you get home today," Robert said.

"Why?"

"We have things to discuss."

Finley rolled her eyes. "Clearly."

"We just have things to talk about, Finley," Robert said, a hard edge to his tone that his daughter wasn't accustomed to.

Finley didn't respond as she walked past him to climb into their car. She buckled her seat belt and changed the radio station as soon as her father started the car.

"It's nothing major."

"It's been four days since we moved here," Finley said. "Is he just checking in?"

"Yes."

"Don't you dare lie to me. The last time you lied, I got shot."

Robert sighed. "We're trying to ensure that something like that will not happen again."

Finley nodded. "I don't mean to bring that up every time I'm mad, dad," she said quietly. "I just...loved Texas. And now I'm in shitty Baltimore and it's going to be winter soon. And it gets cold. And I hate the cold."

Robert bit back a smile as he reached over and rubbed his daughter's shoulder lightly. "I know. And I assure you, it's just to talk."

"Okay."

Robert pulled into the school, stopping by the flag pole, and shifting the car into park. "What's your story?"

"For the move?"

He nodded.

"You got a new job offer," Finley said with a shrug. "If anyone asks, that's what I'll tell them. But I don't plan on getting close enough for anyone to ask."

"You have to make friends while you're here, Fin."

"I don't," Finley said definitively.

"Fin--"

"That's my choice to make, and my choice alone."

Robert shook his head.

"Besides, we don't even know how long we'll be here."

"Hopefully until you graduate."

Finley sighed. "I don't want to make friends with these people, dad."

"That boy yesterday seemed to catch your interest."

"I punched him before you showed up. I don't think he'll be speaking to me again," Finley explained. And she wasn't sure how she felt about that. She could easily say she didn't want to be friends, but there was something different about Alex. And she really didn't know if she was more relieved or disappointed that he might not talk to her again.

"You never know. Some guys are into that," her father told her with a shrug.

Finley laughed lightly. "If you say so."

+

"So, I decided that I'm not mad at you anymore."

Finley looked over at Alex as he surprised her at her locker that morning before their first class. "Is this the point where I thank you oh, so much for your kindness?"

Alex shrugged one shoulder casually. "I mean, if you want to."

"Is that what you're used to?"

"Is that what you think I'm used to?"

Finley sighed, running a hand through her bangs. "Why does it matter what I think?"

"Because I get the feeling that you don't like me for the wrong reasons," Alex told her.

"Let me get this straight. You think that my aversion to your friendship--and it's not just you, by the way, I don't want anyone's friendship--it based on preconceived notions. Notions that formed based on the interactions I had with members of previous schools. Is that what you're implying?" Finley asked.

Alex paused. "What you're saying is, you don't like me because of people you used to know?"

Finley bit the inside of her cheek. "No. What I'm saying is that you are implying that I don't like you because of people I knew at other schools."

"So you don't like me?" Alex asked.

Finley sighed. "You're giving me a migraine," she told him.

Alex laughed and playfully shoved her shoulder. "I am a migraine."

Finley would have laughed if she wasn't surprised. Her hand reached up to rub her shoulder, feeling the ache suddenly return.

"Are you okay?" he asked, frowning.

"Yeah, I'm fine."

Alex didn't believe her. He reached over and brushed the collar of her plaid aside. He couldn't stop the small gasp that fell from his lips as his thumb came into contact with an area thick with scar tissue. "What the fuck happened, Fin?" he asked in surprise. "What the hell is this?"

Finley shoved his arm aside harshly, fixing her shirt. She took her time buttoning the plaid before zipping her hoodie, feeling more exposed than she had when his hand was practically in her shirt. "Nothing."

"Fuck that, Fin. How did you get the scar?" Alex asked.

"It's none of your business," she snapped, slamming her locker shut.

Alex grabbed her wrist before she could walk away. "Fin--"

Finley tore her arm out of his grasp and shoved him up against the locker.

"The fuck?" Alright, he hadn't been expecting her to be so strong. Whatever.

"It's none of your business," she repeated, her voice wavering. "Leave it alone, please."

Alex sighed. "Did someone hurt you?"

"Months ago, yes," she told him.

"What--?"

"You want to know why I don't want to be your friend, Alex?" Finley snapped. "It's because I can tell that you're the type of person to not let something go. And there's nothing wrong with that, do not get me wrong. It's just who you are. But I'm not the type of person who wants to be grilled over my past, present, and future. I'm not a simpleton, Alex. I just want a simple life. And that does not include friends at this point."

"But Finley--"

"No," she said firmly. She didn't bother saying another word as she turned on her heel and marched into her math classroom.