Unwritten Pages

Desiree is looking at me. Her brown eyes looking as if she can look through everything, including my soul. Her eyes are full of emotion—pain, sorrow, regret.

It scares me to think that someone can have so many emotions. I certainly don't like emotions. They're...weak. But I'm a guy, that was what I was raised to believe.

“I miss Winter,” she says simply. I don't say anything. But we both know I agree. Life has been considerably silent without her. Even though barely anyone notices her in school, she was a big part of our life.

Was.

Desiree and Arianna were already Winter's friends before I came along. I was...not doing so great. A druggie, you can say. But I didn't do drugs because I wanted to, it was because I had to.

Looking back on it, I realize how stupid I'd been.

Obviously I didn't need them for survival. But during those dark times, they seemed essential. They were a...gateway. An escape from the cruel world. I was depressed—clinically. That seemed like the only escape.

My parents went crazy when they found out and threaten to kick me out of the house. I didn't care. Luckily, they didn't kick me out and I continued to do drugs. Marijuana was my main. Though I loved the high, I didn't push as far to Meth. I knew, as insane as I was, that Meth would destroy me completely.

But then Winter found me. During a cold winter day. Pun intended. Winter found me on winter, the beginning of ninth grade at the time. The sight of me—she found it horrifying. She was...a goody-good girl, as most would say. She seemed bothersome at first. But then she made me see the light in all the darkest I had trapped myself in.

She was like a light bobbing in the darkness after I had lost my way. Leading me towards light rather then letting me wander blindly in the dark by myself.

She convinced me to go to a health institute. My parents were thankful. I got therapy, and within a year, I was better.

Winter then took me under her wing. At first, I was reluctant. I mean, I was better now! For God's sake! I could take care of myself! But then I realized that I actually liked her company. It was easier to be around than most guys, who would poke and prod at your weaknesses and try to up you. It wasn't like a constant competition like usual.

Winter introduced me to her friends, Desiree and Arianna. They...hated me at first. But then we grew to like each other soon. And Desiree and I soon became a couple. A hate love relationship really.

Everything in my life was perfect.

Key word: was. Always the was.

Winter drew away from us. She talked less often. We thought it was nothing—except for Desiree. And Desiree would only voice these thoughts to me. But I laughed it off. Winter was perfect, she couldn't just fall apart.

But I was wrong. So wrong.

Nearing the end of twelfth grade, this is what happens.

Winter wanted to go to university. She wanted to become an astronomer. But her dreams were shattered. By herself.

I can't believe that she would...kill herself.

She got in the university of her choice. She had almost everything. Who cared if she wasn't noticed? But I doubt that was the reason why she killed herself.

She didn't have a boyfriend. But I doubt that she even had a crush. I doubt she even cared about that.

I don't know why she would kill herself. It's a mystery. But I want to know.

Tears prick on Desiree's brown eyes and I instinctively wrap my arms tightly around her. She's sobbing in seconds. Her face is buried in my chest as she cries. The sound of her crying tears at my heart.

“Keep crying,” I mutter in Desiree's ear. Her sobs get harder. “Keep crying.”

We stand like that, on the school grounds. Some people stare, but they know the reason why she's crying. They all heard. No surprise there.

At first, when the police had stepped into the classroom to announce that Winter was dead, half the class started muttering.

But not the kind of sympathetic, 'What? But...' They were mostly: 'Who the heck is Winterlyn Evaline Lawly?'

As soon as the police left, someone said, “Who's Winterlyn?”

I had glared angrily at them and they shut up. No one has said a thing since. Well, not to my face.

We were there for a few minutes before Desiree's sobbing stops.

“Does Arianna know?” She asks. I freeze. I think back to yesterday. Has Arianna asked Winter's parents yet? Maybe. She was looking for her anyway. Arianna hasn't heard of the news yet because she had been out of town for a while.

“I don't know,” I answer truthfully. I hope she does. But at the same time, I hope she doesn't. It causes too much pain to know that one of your friends are dead.

“Andrew,” Desiree says, looking into my eyes. I lean forward and give her a little peck on the lips.

“Yes?”

“I wish...she didn't die,” she says, tears are starting again.

“Me too,” I agree.

“Why did she go?”

I think about it again. Why did she go? There was nothing to worry about... Nothing at all.

Then why the hell did she kill herself?!

The thought suddenly makes me angry. Why? Why? Why?

“She had no reason,” I say. I realize that my voice is full of anger. And I soften it and repeat, “she had no reason.”

“Then why?!” Desiree is almost hysterical. “Why, why, why, why, why?!” Half the students walking by us stop and stare. They move on when they see me glare.

I grip Desiree tighter to me. It's a question I can't answer. No, scratch that, don't know the answer to.

Desiree starts sobbing again. Her fingers dig painfully into my back. I wonder briefly if this is what would also become of me if I succumb to the pain and lose. But hearing Desiree sob is painful enough.

Suddenly, I'm angry. Angry at Winter. Angry that she killed herself. Angry that she would just...leave, out of nowhere. Angry that she caused my girlfriend so much pain.

Why did she kill herself? It doesn't make sense. What the hell? Did she just want to cause drama and pain? Did she just want attention? That's a question that I don't know how to answer. Did she secretly want attention? I'm her best friend. There was no way I wouldn't know what she wanted. I knew her. She wasn't like that.

Do you really know her? Do you know her enough to know that she would kill herself out of nowhere?

That's a haunting thought and I push it out of my mind. Winter and I have been friends for four years. That may not seem like a lot, but it feels like a lot. We've spent about one thousand four hundred and sixty days knowing each other. I doubt that I didn't know her.

Desiree's sobs come to a halt. And we just stand there, holding each other. I know we should go in the school now and start class, but I feel like I can't move. No, I don't want to move. I can stay here forever with Desiree, trying to ease her grief.

I wonder when that grief will finally hit me. When I finally realize that Winter is truly gone.

Hopefully not soon. But hopefully not too late.

“Excuse me.”

Desiree's head jerks up as she hears the voice. It's close to us. And I'm almost certain they're talking to us. I reluctantly let go of Desiree and turn around to see who had spoken.

It's a teacher. Female, short, blonde and looking annoyed. She has her arms crossed. Unfortunately, I can't stare her down because she's a tad bit taller than me, plus, she's wearing heels. She's tapping her foot impatiently. And her eyes are narrowing down on us.

Desiree gives a loud sniff as she rubs the tears from her eyes.

I don't know this teacher. I've never had class with her. That's probably a good thing, because she looks pretty strict. And I'm the kind of guy who likes to break rules.

“Yes?” I ask her. Desiree grips my arm tightly as if trying to give me a warning. I ignore it and keep my attention on the teacher.

“Get to class. You're running late,” she says. Her voice is impatient. Her arms are still crossed.

“What if we have a spare?” I challenge. I'm not in a good mood today. I don't care what comes out of my mouth right now. I don't care about the consequences. Why can't she just leave us alone? Doesn't she know the Winter thing?

“Andrew Campbell and Desiree Lilian. I know you don't have spares today. You don't think the teachers have been asked to keep watch on you two?” She seems to sneer at us. “Get to class. You don't think I don't know about Winterlyn?”

Desiree grips my arm tighter.

“I don't care what problems you're facing because of her death. Life moves on. You're here to learn, not sit around and mourn all day. If you want to do that, don't come to school. You're setting a horrible example for students. I expect you two to shape up and do better than the other students. Her death shouldn't drag you down. In fact, it should make you better. Winterlyn was only a dragger,” she says.

She uses a hand motion and waves us away as if we were just pesky flies in her way. “Shoo! Go!”

I glare at her and pull Desiree away towards the school with me. The teacher doesn't acknowledge my glare. She seems busy spotting for other victims. I hold Desiree's hand tightly in mine.

Desiree looks like she's about to cry and burst into an angry speech. She wipes at her face, which is blotchy and red.

“I hate her,” Desiree says bluntly. No surprise there.

“I already hate her, and I just met her!” I say loudly. Some students overhear us and glances briefly at us.

“You just met her?” Desiree looks at me incredulously. I shrug. I open the front door for her and we enter the school.

“Yeah,” I say. Desiree gives me a look of jealousy. I can't help but smile.

“She taught me in ninth and tenth grade. She was my homeroom teacher. Ms. Quin.” Desiree gives a shudder. “She was the worse teacher ever. Don't you remember me spazzing out to you about it?”

I frown. “You hated me back then. I doubt you even said anything to me.” Honestly, I remembered vaguely about it. I remembered Desiree saying something about a bitchy homeroom teacher.

Desiree bumps me softly on the shoulder. “Hey, well...” Her face turns a little red, despite it already being red from her tears. She gives me a quick peck on the lips. “Love you now. Hated you then.”

I give her a smile. “I always thought you were pretty cute actually,” I say. Desiree looks down, blushing furiously.

“Oh, uh. I have to go and clear my face in the girl's bathroom,” she says.

“Want me to come with you?”

Desiree gives me a playful punch in the arm. “You? In the girl's bathroom? Fortunately, you can't pass for a girl. You little pervert,” she says. I wink at her and she smiles back.

“Fine, fine, I won't. But who says I won't next time?” She gives me a fake scowl and heads in the direction of the bathroom.

I lean against the wall and wait for her to come out. She'll take at least five minutes. Maybe ten if she starts crying again.

I realize that we were acting like we usually did just a while ago. I smile as I think about the old times. Desiree and I, talking and joking. Truth was, I never hated her. She just seemed to hate me at first. Maybe it was because I was a druggie.

I shudder as I think about drugs. They could have destroyed me. But Winter saved me...

Winter.

Winterlyn.

I sigh as I bury my face in my hands. I can't think about her. My saviour is gone. I didn't get a chance to save her too. I could have saved her. But I didn't know and I couldn't.

It's surprising how she just...left last week. Five days ago, really. On a simple Thursday night. Today's Tuesday. Only five days have passed. Five days. Just five.

Just five days since she's been out of our lives.

Then, I suddenly remember Arianna. Arianna, who doesn't know that Winter is dead. Arianna, who doesn't deserve that kind of pain.

But I wonder...does Arianna actually know that Winter is dead yet? Did she call Winter's parents last night to ask for her? I feel guilty for telling Arianna to call Winter's parents. Winter's parents already had enough to suffer through.

I hope Arianna...isn't in the same state as Desiree. Maybe she's like me right now. Unable to comprehend it. Not that I'm stupid, it's just that I can't accept the fact.

I hear footsteps coming my way. I look up, hoping it isn't Ms. Quin, ready for another appearance. I hated the rude things she said about Winter. About her being a dragger.

But it isn't Ms. Quin, thankfully. It's Desiree heading back. Her face isn't as blotchy anymore. She gives me a small smile and loops her arms around mine.

“Come on,” she says as she pulls me along. We both try to forget what she was crying about earlier.

We head to our first class—English. Class has started already. I've no doubt that we're late. The door is closed, unfortunately. I don't like drawing attention, but I suck it up and knock on the door.

We stand there together for a few seconds before the door is open. A short, timid looking Asian girl with glasses peers out at us.

“Ms. Marr?” She calls into the class. Everyone is looking now. I frown at the girl. What's she up to?

“Yes, Liane?” Ms. Marr's voice calls from within the classroom.

“There's someone here to say something.”

“Oh?” I can hear confusion in Ms. Marr's voice. “For what?”

Before this Liane girl can speak, I say: “It's just Andrew and Desiree.” Liane frowns at the name. And then as the memory seems to sink in, her eyes widen and she gives us an apologetic look.

“You're...” She whispers. She doesn't look at us again.

“Oh! Then come in! Take your seats. We're just having a review period for the upcoming test,” Ms. Marr says. I step in the classroom with Desiree behind me. Everyone watches us like wolves watching and observing prey. It makes me feel uncomfortable, because we are prey in some way.

They want to see if we'll break down or do something drastic. Being friends with Winter and all. These past few days, all they did was try and provoke us.

It got to Desiree. But not me, not yet. I don't want that to happen. I won't give them satisfaction.

We take our seats, which is at the very back, unfortunately. But luckily, we're right beside each other. Desiree pushes her desk closer to mine until they're connected. Then, I put my hand on top of hers and try to soothe her. Desiree's not looking so well. She hates attention and being watched.

Ms. Marr continues the lesson she has out. It takes some time to catch up so we struggle a bit. I try not to look at other students. Because I know that half the class is talking about us.

I'm pretty sure that they know I use to be a druggie. I have a feeling they're going to talk about that to the rest of the school.

When the lesson is done. Ms. Marr gives us some free time. She goes back to her desk and reads a book, undisturbed.

I can't say the same for us, though.

The moment Ms. Marr finishes the lesson, Desiree and I are swarmed with questions. Random questions and the ones relating to Winter's death.

“How long have you and Desiree been together?”

“Hey, what's your name again?”

“Weren't you Winter's best friend?”

“Oh my gosh! You two are fabulous together! Have you had sex yet?”

The last question makes me frown. Is everything on relationships about sex? That's called being shallow and lust.

I don't want to answer any questions. But they just all crowd around our desks like vultures. Ugly, ugly vultures. Desiree sinks in her seat. I don't think she can take much longer.

For a moment, I hate my class mates.

But I know to get rid of them is to either crack under the pressure or answer the question. And I think I chose the latter.

“We've been together for two years. No, we haven't had sex,” I say, much to others dismay.

“But I thought—”

I cut the speaker off. “I'm Andrew Campbell, if your small brain can't remember or process that. And yes I was Winter's best friend. We need to study for the upcoming test, so it would be nice if you would leave us alone.” I narrow my eyes, trying to get the message across. Most of them start to leave, muttering excited things/findings about us.

But some idiots stay too.

One of them is Liane. I don't think I can get my message across to her. She seems kind of...dumb. No offence. She has an excited sparkle in her eyes. She pushes her glasses up and leans toward us. What was she playing at? First, she seem considerate, and pitiful (even though I hated when people were pitiful towards me) and now? What the hell?

“So I heard you were a druggie,” Liane says. I realize she has a clipboard, paper, and a pen in her hand, ready to write down any fabulous scandal.

“Yeah! Me too!” The other one that speaks is a jock. I don't know his name.

Liane gives the jock an annoyed look and then looks back at me. “Sorry about him. Well actually, he's not my fault, so technically, I'm not sorry.” The way she emphasizes on the word 'not' makes me want to hit her. She's so rude.

“What do you want?” I ask even though I already know. They want answers.

Greedy little vultures.

“Oh, you know. Just simple stuff,” Liane says. Though I can tell what she wants is far from simple.

“What?”

“Just answering my questions. I'm part of the school paper, so it would be nice if—”

I cut her off. School paper? She was just searching for a scandal to write about! “No thank you. I'm not interested in answering questions or having my story spread around on a sheet of cheap paper.”

“No,” she says persistently, “this is important!”

Who knew the timid looking girl could be so...bitchy and persistent? But appearances aren't everything. I guess this girl's appearance betrays her personality.

And she was just playing shy and sorry earlier. Was this a game? I narrow my eyes at her, hoping I look menacing enough for her to go away.

The remaining people shrug at my glare and walk away muttering something like: “We'll ask next time.” but not Liane.

“Sorry for being so rude,” Liane says, regaining her 'nice-girl' posture. “But I'm Liane Chau. Nice to meet you.”

I've been in your class for this whole semester, and you're saying that it's nice to meet me?

But I don't say that. I just give her a knowing look, but she ignores it.

Now she doesn't look so timid anymore. Maybe she first struck me as timid because of her bangs that were covering half her face (though I guess it's kind of a fashion now) and her square-framed glasses. I realize, that she doesn't look very timid at all. Her face is elegant with an Asian tint to her features. Her eyes are big and round. And something about her posture and the way she tilted her head implied that she thought she had power.

“Hello,” Desiree says softly. I realize with a shock that it's the first time Desiree has spoken during the time in this class.

“Hi! Desiree Lilian?” Liane sounds overenthusiastic.

“Yes,” she says simply. She doesn't sound like herself. But I guess I don't sound like myself either. I'm usually not very hostile, but the vultures—ah sorry, class mates, has driven me to this point. I don't like the idea of letting my guard down for any of them.

“Oh, goody!” She scribbles something on her paper. I find it vastly annoying. What are we? Celebrities with big and dirty secrets?

I guess in some ways, we are. No exactly celebrities. But a friend of an unknown (until now), dead celebrity named Winterlyn Evaline Lawly.

“You wouldn't mind telling me anything?” Liane peers at us, like she did earlier at the door. I find that gesture annoying.

Only if it gets you to leave and never come back, I think to myself. But I don't voice this. I glance at Desiree to see what she will say.

“Um... Sure... I—” Before Desiree even finishes her hesitant answer, Liane already springs to the first question.

“Before we go into deeper things—” I had a feeling that 'deeper' meant things about Winter and her death. “—let's start with you two!”

We don't speak.

“Alright, so cut the chase. I heard you were a druggie, Mister Campbell,” she says. I'm annoyed.

“Andrew. Call me Andrew. And I'm not answering that question. Sorry,” I say. Though I know my tone is far from being sorry. I don't like this girl. She's too nosy.

“Not—answering—drug—question,” she says as she writes it down. I want to snatch that pen from her hand. But I doubt it would stop her from her paper/article. If I do snatch that pen, she'll probably add that to her article. Or whatever she's writing for the school paper.

“So,” Desiree says, “are you writing an article about us and Winter or something?”

“You and the season winter? What?” She looks confuse for a moment. Desiree seems to realize that most people don't even know or remember Winter—much less her nickname.

“Nothing,” she murmurs.

“Okay. Next question,” Liane continues, ignoring Desiree. “How long have you two been dating?”

“Two years,” I mutter. The only way to get rid of this pest is if we answer her questions. And if we don't answer any of them, I'm sure she write something terrible about us on the school paper. And the last thing we need is that. Already, Liane Chau feels like a powerful manipulator. And a faker. All this sweetness she's giving us—I'm almost positive that it's fake. Information is the key word in her vocabulary.

Briefly, I wonder if she's a sociopath. That sounds like the correct qualities and personality. Charming and quite manipulative.

“Two years? Wow! That's pretty long!” She looks at us expectantly. “Usually, the most I've ever seen is seven months!”

“We're different,” I growl. I can hear the annoyance and slight anger in my voice. If Liane caught those emotions, she didn't show any change.

“Different how?” Her voice has a slightly rude tone to it. That makes me even angrier. But I know I have to control my temper. Because who knows what this...bitch can write?

“We're not your typical teenagers, I guess,” Desiree says. I can hear a bit of strain in her voice like she's resisting the urge to squeeze her hands around Liane's throat. As if Desiree senses my anger too, she places her hand on my hand under the desk.

“Huh,” Liane says. She records the information down in the paper. I feel as if I'm back at the police station again. Explaining the details of Winter and I.

“So how did you two get together?”

I can feel Desiree calm down a bit. She loves telling this story. Though I can sense her wariness. Does she really want to go into full detail of our story with this excuse of a woman?

“Well... It's complicated,” she starts. But Liane jumps in.

“Oh goody! I have time for that!” She looks at the clock. “Half-an-hour before class is dismissed. Go on,” she encourages. Though there's something hungry and vicious in her eyes that make me feel uneasy.

“We met in ninth grade,” she says. She doesn't mention how we meet. Which relaxes me a bit.

“It's kind of a funny story, really. We... Actually, we hated each other,” she says. She laughs a bit, recalling the memories. I smile, hearing her laugh is great. For a moment, I almost forget that Liane is here.

Almost. Not quite. But fortunately, Liane isn't jumping in at places.

“I don't know why. Maybe it's because he...had a bad history.” I frown as I see Liane's eye light up at the 'bad history' part. She scribbles something down. Hopefully, she isn't jumping to conclusions. She still doesn't have real proof that I was a druggie.

But Desiree continues the story with an animated look in her eyes. She always looks this way when she's telling our story. It makes her...happy. I squeeze her hand gently.

“Anyway, I hated him. Like, really hated him. Sure, I thought he was handsome and all, but all I could think of when I saw his face was player and someone who uses people to his advantage.”

I wince, because it's true. I use to be like that. Not that I used woman—it was all about the drugs. Liane doesn't catch that wince because she's writing things down like crazy.

“So one of my friends were friends with him,” Desiree says. She doesn't mention who. But I doubt that Liane even pays attention to that. “I thought she was crazy. I mean, I was thinking: this bastard? What are you thinking!? Arianna, my other friend agreed with me. But apparently, Win—” Desiree paused.

“Yes?” Liane looks up with a smug expression in her face, like she caught on something. She gives an even smugger look at me when she thinks I'm not looking.

“Sorry. I got caught up. Anyway, my friend thought that she could somehow save him from his horrible past. I thought it was ridiculous! He was so deep in, that I doubted that anyone could help him. I thought she should have just left him on the streets to die. Arianna and I was this close to starting a hate campaign against him.

“So somehow, Andrew was saved. She helped him. But for ninth and tenth grade, I absolutely hated him. I seethed with rage every time I saw him. But then...in the summer of tenth grade, everything seem to turn around.

“Andrew was as handsome as ever. He had redeem himself in ninth grade already, but I hated him in tenth. Why the sudden change, I thought. I don't know what made me open my eyes... But he was nice and attractive. No longer the bastard I use to think he was.” Desiree blushes and gives me a shy look. I have to resist the urge to kiss her because Liane is prying.

“I don't know what happened exactly, but all of a sudden... I started to have... Well, extreme feelings,” she laughs. “I thought I was going crazy.”

“I thought I was too,” I add in, “because all of a sudden, the beautiful girl I had my eye on ever since I saw her started to show a bit of feelings too. She hated me, and I thought I was going delusional.” She smiles at me.

“Awh, how adorable,” Liane gushes. And for a moment, that doesn't sound very fake. But I doubt she cares about our romance very much.

“And then he was everywhere,” Desiree continues. “I asked him to come shopping with me. He took me to a dinner. We went to a movie together. He was at my house. Heck! He was even in my dreams! It was like I couldn't escape from him. For a week, I thought he was a sorcerer! It took a lot of convincing from my friends that he wasn't one. And even then, Arianna was starting to really see him. Instead of just seeing him as an asshole like we use to.

“Then,” Desiree says. “One night, during a movie. He just...kisses me! Out of nowhere! I thought he was lying at first, since I'm pretty paranoid. We caused this huge racket during the movie and we had to leave. But anyways, we resolved outside the theatre.

“Andrew told me that...well... That he truly liked me. In that romantic way. The rest of the days were a blur. All I remember is telling Arianna and my other...friend.” She swallows a bit on the end. She had made sure not to say Winter's name.

The story that Desiree gave was a shorten version. There were a lot more extra details. One involved coming across Desiree's parents swapping spit. Not something I want to see again.

“How romantic!” Liane says. She smiles brightly, though it doesn't quite reach her calculating eyes.

“Yes,” I say simply.

“Oh! And if you don't mind, we'll move onto deeper things,” Liane says. There's a hint of mischief in her voice. Not the kind of innocent mischief, but more sinister.

“Like what?” I already know the answer, but I ask anyway.

“Winterlyn Evaline Lawly,” Liane says. I know that Desiree knew it was coming, but I can still hear her sharp intake of breath. Judging by the look in Liane's face, I can tell that she's heard it too. Great. She'll love this. I squeeze Desiree's hand.

“Winter. She goes by Winter,” Desiree says quietly.

Liane flicks her hand dismissively. “Not important,” she says. “What I want to know are your relationships to her.”

Not important? I'm seething with rage inside, not important? If I kill you, will that be not important?

Instead of letting Desiree answer, I answer Liane's questions. I hate this...girl, reporter, article-writer, bitch.

“We were all friends with her. But I was her best friend,” I say. “No, we didn't have some love triangle fiasco. We were all friends. And she didn't have interest in me,” I say. Hopefully, Liane won't ask any love related questions. I know it upsets Desiree a bit. Just a bit. But Desiree's not the kind of girl to go on Crazy Possessive Bitch Girlfriend on me.

She gets jealous because she knows we've shared a kiss before. We thought we had something... But that fabricated idea disappeared after a week. It was clear we didn't have any romantic feelings for each other.

“Why do you think Winterlyn killed herself?”

“Winter,” I say, clearly emphasizing her nickname. “Didn't have any valid reason. I think she was just going psycho on us. Depression, maybe? Not sure,” I say, trying to escape her questions. I don't want to answer it completely. Liane doesn't deserve to know. She hasn't even made an effort to know her when she was still alive!

“Really,” Liane says in monotone. Desiree grips my hand tightly. Liane is being downright rude. Not that I expect any better from her, really. We've only met about an hour ago, and I already hate this girl.

“Really,” I say with confidence. Liane opens her mouth to say something. Something snide, maybe? Or maybe to spring another question.

But luckily, the bell rings before she can say anything.

“Class dismissed,” I say to Liane. I can't help the smirk that's on my face, but I try hard to make it just a smile. Though I doubt it works according to Liane's scowl.

Desiree and I pick up our stuff. “Good bye,” I say to Liane. I turn around, my hand in Desiree's hand and we head for the door. I can feel Liane's glare at the back of my head. I don't care.

Because Liane's just another prying ear. All she wants is information. Information, and information. She wants a scandal. And most of all, she's the type of girl who loves to bring people down, rumour by rumour.

But Liane is just one prying ear out of the whole school. She's the only one who has acted so far. Though I doubt that the rest of the three hundred or more people in this school will stay quiet.

I grip Desiree's hand. We have to prepare ourselves for more prying ears.

Not all of them might be as vicious as Liane Chau.

But not all of them will sugar coat their words and intentions like Liane did.

And I doubt that Desiree will survive them without breaking down into tears. Those prying ears don't care what they do. They'll tear apart Desiree. And I can't allow that.