Unwritten Pages

Liane Chau—reporter, tough, intelligent...

Manipulator.

Those were my impressions of her. Those are still my impressions. She's horrible. I hate her.

Hate is a pretty strong word. But I don't hesitate when I apply that word to Liane Chau. It's like Desiree hating me for the first two years she's known me. But obviously, Liane and I aren't going to magically fall in love.

Now that I think about it... Did Desiree and I 'magically' fall in love? But the truth is, I liked her when I first met her.

Hopefully, Liane doesn't have a crush on me... That would be... shudders. Repulsive. Disgusting. Unthinkable.

Just as unthinkable as Winter killing herself.

I shake the thought of Winter out of my head. I refuse to think about stuff like that. It's horrible.

Anyway, I had woken up late. No one had bothered to wake me up on time. Maybe because my parents think that I'm suffering severely from the death of Winter.

I feel bad. Because I don't even feel any grief. Yet. I think that if I watch clips of us, it'll feel like a distant memory. A distant life. I think I'll feel like I didn't even do anything with her—didn't even know her or talked to her.

My saviour, dead.

Anyway, my parents leave early for work. Actually, they leave around the time that I leave for school. I'm waiting by the bus stop now. It takes about half-an-hour to get to school.

I'm about forty five minutes late. The bus doesn't seem like it's coming any time soon. I think when I get to school, first period will be over. Oh well.

I lean against the pole and wait. I'm not listening to my iPod. My head is too full of thoughts for any music.

I think about Arianna's expression yesterday. The moment I told her that Winter committed suicide. Arianna had looked like she wanted to laugh. She didn't want to believe us.

What kind of idiot would believe that Winterlyn Evaline Lawly would commit suicide? She had a perfect life...

I close my eyes. What would have made Winter commit suicide?

Suddenly, a loud engine makes me open my eyes. The bus is here. It stops and people get off. I wait until they're off until I get on and show my bus pass and identity to the driver before moving on.

I find a seat by the window and sit down. Since I'm late today, there's not as many people on the bus. And most of them are adults too.

Fortunately, this bus takes me directly to school. So I don't have to change buses or get on a subway.

I observe the landscape as we pass. Everyone outside is acting normal like nothing has changed. But it has. Winter's dead. How could nothing have changed?

Winter may be insignificant to them. But she is significant to me. Her death shouldn't go unnoticed by the world.

But almost everyone's death is unnoticed by the world, I realize.

The bus lurches to a stop near my school. I thank the driver before getting off. Then I cross the road towards my school.

I'm so caught up in my thoughts, that my body is on auto pilot. I'm not paying attention to anything, really. I'm at my locker before I know it.

I usually don't use my locker anymore. It's kind of a painful reminder for Desiree and I, because it's right next to Winter's locker. My hand is on the lock, automatically spinning the numbers in. I stop and let go of it. I have to remember not to come here anymore unless absolutely necessary.

I turn and leave without looking at the other lockers. I know that if I spot Winter's locker, I might actually break down and realize that she's gone. She's decorated her locker to stand out. If she's stood out so much, why doesn't anyone remember her? Let alone notice her?

I check the time. There's about ten minutes left of English class. I want to ditch, but I know Desiree probably won't appreciate it. So I head for English.

I barely remember who's waiting for me in that class room. I barely remember who's claws are being sharpened.

The door is open, luckily. I step in. It seems like it's a free period. Because Ms. Marr is reading a book again. Undisturbed. As usual.

It's loud. There's so much chatter in the room. It reminds me of Friday. Where everything began with an absent. Here in this very room. With these very people and the same amount of noise.

It threatens to swallow me—that knowledge.

Some people notice me. But too many are focusing on what they're doing at the moment. Most girls seem to be gossiping loudly. Guys are huddled in a group and talking about something. Sports, video games. Whatever. It reminds me of my guy friends. The ones I haven't talked to for a week. But that's because I don't have any classes with them. I use to catch up with them after school or at spare. But now, the death of Winter has put a distance between us.

They're not mad at me. Yet...

Suddenly, I spot Liane talking with some people. I don't like to think of them as her friends because Liane is actually a big bitch. But hey, every bitch has got to have some bitch friends, right?

Liane is very loud, I notice. So loud, it's almost like she wants the whole class to hear what she's talking about and how her life is. I wonder how I haven't remembered this girl in my class until now. It's surprising.

“Guys! I curled my hair today! And I dyed it! Isn't it beautiful?”

Her voice is sickeningly sweet. I turn away from her and try to block her out. I then look in Desiree's desk, about to give a smile that I reserve for her.

She's not there.

I frown, confusion settling in me. Where's Desiree? When she's going to be absent from school, she usually tells me.

My brain thinks the impossible.

Has she... Could she not take it? Did she take the easy way out, like Winter?

I shake that horrible thought from my head. Obviously not. Why would she do that? Winter's death has scarred my thinking now.

I walk over to my seat and sit down. I guess I was wrong, coming here. I should have just stayed in the library for the last ten minutes of this class. I guess I can just listen to Liane talk for ten minutes...

“Yeah, I did my appearance for the photo,” Liane says. She's appearance obsessed, by the sounds of it. I don't think it's very surprising.

“Oh my gosh! Your hair is so pretty! Oh! And I love your makeup!” I realize that Liane's friends are loud too. Perfect fit.

“I did it early in the morning. You know, I wanted my photo on the school paper to be nice. Since my article did make it first page. Mr. Reian said that I did a wonderful job on getting the information.”

I freeze. School paper? Information? I suddenly know that the article she's written is probably about Desiree and I. I narrow my eyes at her. But she doesn't notice. Heck, she didn't even notice me walk in!

Her friend laughs. “Ooh! I loved it! It was great! Way to get dirt on someone!”

Dirt? Well this was getting better and better every second.

“Remember handing it out? Too bad Campbell wasn't here to see his girlfriend so upset. Though it was still pretty entertaining.”

“Oh my gosh! It was so funny! She looked like she was going to cry! It would have been so funny if she did! Too bad she doesn't wear makeup. I would have loved to see mascara running all over her face!”

Liane and her friend burst out laughing.

Did they... Did they hurt Desiree? I can feel anger boiling inside.

“Ooh! And I loved the part about Summer or whatever her name is. That was freaking hilarious! And remember watching her ask to go to the bathroom? Hah! I bet she's sobbing her eyes out in there. Where's her pretty little boyfriend when she needs him? He was right to trust his instinct and stay at home.”

“I know, right? But it would have been funny to watch them both start bawling.”

“Wanna go to the girl's bathroom and see her? I wanna take some pictures and put it up on the internet. Or better yet! We can put it up all over school!”

“Nah,” Liane says. “I think it's enough. We'd probably drive her to suicide if we did! Like her loser friend!”

“I think they deserve to die. Hey, what are you going to say at her funeral tomorrow?”

Liane gives a laugh that makes me sick. “I'm going to shed fake tears and say what an amazing person she was. Was.”

They burst into shrieking laughter again. I'm wrong about the vulture part in them. They're like harpies. Or something equally horrible and monstrous.

I hate them. But I don't say anything, because I want to hear the rest of their horrible plans.

“What do you think of Campbell?”

There's a pause. Then Liane says, “he's hot.”

I kind of want to puke. Good looks aren't always good.

“I heard he never had sex before. What a shame. Then I could have bargained him!” Liane's friend says.

That makes me even more disgusting.

“I know right! I want to date him. Then maybe I can get him in bed with me.”

Well, that sums things up.

“No way!” I don't even know why they're saying this so loud. Pretty much everyone can hear. And the people who know I'm here are casting me looks. I don't blame them. I would do the same if I'm in their position.

“That's why I barely wrote any shit about him in the article. I made him look better than he is. And I expressed my interest in him very clearly in that article.”

“He's going to dumb that Desiree girl and date you in no time.”

“Hah! I know! I slipped a copy of the article in his locker. And I gave an extra to one of the Math students and told them to give it to him.”

“I'm pretty sure he's going to dump his girlfriend. Sorry—ex-girlfriend.” They laugh again. I hate the sound of Liane's laughter. There's no way we would magically fall in love unless a powerful spell was cast on me.

I shudder at the thought. I would never consider that excuse of a woman.

“I wonder how the Desiree girl will take it?”

“She'll probably bawl again. That loser. And take the extra 'e' from her name. It spells Desire. As in desire less.”

I have to resist the urge to just go up there and punch her lights out. But I know I can't do that. Being a guy sucks sometimes. Maybe I can get Arianna to beat her up...

The bell rings. Liane and her friend is out the room first, laughing and joking—seemingly innocent. But I know they're not as innocent as they look.

It's my spare period. I need to find Desiree. Knowing her, she was still in the girl's bathroom. She probably won't come out until our next class starts.

I think back to when I was joking to her yesterday. About how I was going to go in the girl's bathroom with her. It was a little early for my liking, but I needed to see her.

I take my stuff and get out of the class room. I'm a little—no scratch that, very disturbed about what Liane and her friend had said. Especially the part about me. But I'm also worried. How horrible was the article? I know that Desiree has very strong emotions—she's hurt very easily. Though she tries to be strong. That's something that I admire about her. One out of many.

I head towards the girl's bathroom. I know she's on this floor's bathroom. Usually, when she's about to cry, she heads to the nearest place. There's no way she would hide on another floor's bathroom.

She doesn't like anyone seeing her cry. She sees that as a weak emotion. And most of the time, she tries to hold it in. Though I know her enough to know that she'll let all that pain out eventually. Probably when no one is watching her. When no one's there to catch her when she falls.

I wish she would let me in on most of the pain, sometimes.

The girl's bathroom isn't very far from the English class room. And I'm there before I know it. I take a look at the door that reads: Girls Student Bathroom

Sucking in a deep breath, I look at the place. The girl's bathroom. Am I really going in there? What if Desiree isn't in there. What if a teacher is in there?

I tell myself not to be stupid. Or course a teacher wouldn't be in there. It's a student bathroom. The teachers have their own bathroom. Stupid me.

I look around the hall way. No one seems to be watching me. And there are no cameras in this building, of course. Before I can chicken out, I push over the door and step inside.

The first thing I hear are some girls talking. Shit.

“—so yeah. You know. I don't know if he—”

They gasp as they see me. I know they're probably going to scream. They look like ninth graders. They're not doing any makeup. So I guess they're not staying long. And they should have class now. Ninth and tenth graders usually don't have spares.

I hold a finger to me lips. “I'm not going to rape you,” I say with annoyance. They are still frozen with some kind of fear. I have to resist the urge to laugh.

“I'm just checking on my girlfriend. So no need to freak out. I'm not a pervert,” I say.

The ninth grader girls don't scream. They give me odd looks. One grabs her bag and starts off towards the door. I block her way, in fear that she'll tell a teacher. I wouldn't have cared, before Thursday. But now, it seems that everyone is watching me. I don't want anymore attention and rumours headed my way.

“What do you want, creeper?” The girl glares my me. But I can see fear in her eyes.

“Don't tell. Don't report anything,” I say simply. The girl at the sink gives a short laugh.

“And why wouldn't we? You're a freaking creeper! Coming in here to see your girlfriend. What kind of creeper does that?”

“I'm Andrew Campbell,” I say. This name wouldn't have mattered before Thursday, but I knew that it did now. Andrew Campbell, Desiree Lilian and Arianna Golding—we were kind of like celebrities. In a bad way.

I can see their eyes widen. Usually, I don't like doing this. I hate this kind of...intimidation.

“O-oh,” the girl in front of me stutters.

“The article...” the other girl says. The article. I had a strong suspicion that it's the article Liane and her friend was talking about earlier. The one that she wrote.

“W-we won't t-tell,” she says. She looks back at her friend. “Come on.”

Her friend is gaping at me. I try to ignore her and start looking around in the bathroom. I hear the door slam and I know that the ninth graders are gone. Easier than I expected.

I know that Desiree probably heard the whole conversation. If she's in this bathroom. But she's silent. Very silent. I don't know where she is. And the bathroom is pretty big. I guess I have to look in every stall.

It takes a while before I find her. She's hidden on the other side of the room. At the very end of the bathroom. A wall is covering her. She's sitting with her knees drawn up to her face and her arms are wrapping around herself.

She looks so miserable, it gives me a lump in my throat. I don't like seeing her like this. It's horrible.

I know it's Desiree and not some other girl because of her long wavy brown hair. I also know it's her because of a gut feeling that tells me that it's Desiree. And the way she's trembling. I know she's crying. Desiree doesn't sob loudly when she cries. Unless she's utterly traumatized. And that means she'll cry for weeks.

But I also know that Desiree doesn't tremble when she's crying...uh, in her state of normal. Trembling means she's close to sobbing.

“Desiree,” I say.

She doesn't look up. But she starts to tremble a little harder. And I think I hear her taking in breaths as she cries.

I crouch down beside her and lean my back against the wall and drape my arm around her. I can feel her shaking now.

“Are you okay?” I ask. Then I feel stupid for asking that. Because she is obviously not okay. But it's just out of habit that I ask that.

Desiree finally says something. And her voice is hoarse. It sounds like it's straining to talk.

“I-I hate her. I hate that little bi—” I cut her off because I know she's going to swear. Desiree usually doesn't swear unless something prompts her to. And I've only heard her swear five times in my whole life. And yeah, I keep track of the amount that she swears.

“Everyone hates her,” I say.

“T-the a-article, you d-didn't even s-see it!” She hiccups a bit. Then she looks up at me. Her face is red, like yesterday. And her eyes are blood shot. Her cheeks are shiny with tears. I use a finger and brush away a tear from her eyes. That only makes her cry harder.

“S-she's an idiot! I f—” I cut her off again. I will not let those words taint her mouth.

“I heard about it. Apparently, I'm going to receive it at Math class,” I say.

“She's lusting after you,” Desiree says bluntly. She didn't stutter this time. And her voice is almost flat. It pains me to hear that kind of expression in her voice.

“I know. I heard it first hand from her mouth. Something I don't want to hear again,” I say, shuddering.

“Will you...” Desiree starts to trail off. Then she tries again. “Will you...”

“Yeah?”

“Will you... Will you—be with her?” Her voice is strained again.

I shake my head in disgust. “No! She's—ugh! She's just... She's just gross.”

“You can say that I'm gross too,” Desiree says. Though I know she's trying to joke around, I can hear a trace of sorrow in her voice.

“I don't think you're gross. Do you think I'm in elementary school? I don't think you have cooties.”

Desiree gives a very soft laugh. “Cooties,” she says. “Reminds me of fifth grade. Drew Sorauren.”

I don't ask who Drew Sorauren is. I just hold Desiree close to me. I don't want to let go of her. She wraps her arms around my waist and buries her face in my chest. She radiates warmth.

We stay like that for a while. I hear some girls come in and out of the bathroom, but they never check the back—where we are. That's a good thing—because the last thing I need is girls finding me in this bathroom. And Desiree crying.

I just hope Liane doesn't stroll in here.

Hearing some conversations, I realize that most of them are about Liane... And me.

Gross. Just gross.

I take my phone out of my pocket and check the time. It's around lunch time now.

We both have our bags with us. And we eat it quickly. We both have small lunches. We don't talk while we eat. At one point, Desiree leaves my arms to us the stalls.

During the whole lunch period and our spare period, we're in the bathroom. We're content to just lie in each others arms.

The doors open so suddenly, that I flinch. I hear some murmuring before their voices grow loud enough for me to hear.

“You can totally tell from the article that Liane is so totally in love with Andrew,” a girl says. I don't know why some girls overuse the word 'totally'. It makes them sound like an airhead. I'm glad that Desiree, Arianna and Winter don't do that.

Winter...

“Yeah, I know right? He should just dump his mess of a girlfriend and move on to better girls. Just saying.”

They laugh. I grip Desiree tighter. I know that she can hear what they're saying.

Never will I do that. Liane Chau? Forget it.

That's not something I would do. Maybe the druggie Andrew Campbell would do that. But he's gone. He's dead.

And Winter is dead too.

Something clanks on the floor. I flinch.

“Oh shit! I dropped my lipstick!”

I can only hope that it doesn't roll towards us. It doesn't. And I hear the girl cursing as she picks up her lipstick.

“Thank God it isn't broken at all! I would hate to buy another one! These are damn expensive!”

The girls talk for a while before they leave the bathroom. I check the time again. It's ten minutes until Math.

“You should get cleaned up. We're going to Math in ten minutes. You don't want Liane Chau or any of her spies to see you crying,” I tell Desiree. She nods and gets up.

“You should stay in here,” her voice is still a bit shaky. “Until I'm done. Then I can check to see if anyone's around before we head out. I think we should do it before class change, because the hall ways will be flooded and everyone will see you get out of the girl's bathroom.”

I nod, agreeing to her plan. After about five minutes, Desiree comes back and signals at me to come with her. I get up and follow her. Desiree stops at the door and peers out. Then she steps out and furiously motions at me to do the same.

I get out, feeling some kind of relief in me to be out of that place. It was like a restricted area. I felt like I was trespassing. Which I kind of was.

“You shouldn't do that again,” Desiree says.

“I was worried for you, what can I say?”

“You shouldn't have. You know I won't kill myself—” Desiree pauses. I don't have to be a genius to know that she's thinking about Winter.

“Come on,” I say. “Let's just get to Math class. You can talk to Mr. Woodly about your problems with the Math assignment.”

Desiree nods and looks a bit shaky. I know that she didn't mean what she had said. Those things just slip from our mouths.

We head to Math. I spot some students looking at us. I know I should be kind of use to it—or at least, not surprised. But there's something different about their looks.

Most of them are directed at Desiree. And they're not sympathetic looks like the one I got.

And most of the girls give me little waves or flustered giggles when I walk by. I frown and hold onto Desiree's hand. I know this is making her upset.

“Marking your territory?” I can hear Desiree ask me, her voice is humourless.

“I guess you can say that,” I say.

We make it to Math class. We're early—again. Desiree takes her place across the class room. I'm slightly worried. What will people do to her, considering that she was crying this morning? She catches my worried looks and gives a reassuring smile back.

Though I'm not very reassured, I try to relax anyway. It isn't soon before students start to flood the class room. I notice that they're all giving Desiree dark looks. And once in a while, a girl will smile nervously my way. Or sometimes even seductively. I never smile back to them once. I don't want to give them wrong ideas. Desiree is mine and I'm hers.

I think about Liane Chau and I shudder. I never want to see or hear from her again.

Though I know I can't do that.

A nervous fidgety boy called Boris approaches me with something that looks like a newspaper in his hand. He usually doesn't talk to me. I vaguely wonder what he wants. Some part of my brain is telling me that whatever it is, it isn't good.

“Uh, um. Andrew, here,” Boris says. He tosses the newspaper at me. I barely catch it. Boris stumbles away muttering things to himself.

The moment I grab it, a sense of dread fills me. I'm pretty sure it's the article.

Well, the school paper. The one that Liane was talking about. The one that made Desiree cry. I look up to see her look at me nervously.

I don't want to see it, but I do at the same time. I want to see what horrible things that Liane has written about us.

Curiosity killed the cat, as they say. Those were one of Winter's favourite quote. Along with 'this is the way the world ends, not with a bang, but a whimper', 'the angels have their wicked schemes'. And of course you couldn't forget her all time favourite, from 'Romeo and Juliet', written by Shakespeare himself: 'Do not swear by the moon, the inconstant moon'.

My mind is wandering off. I shake the thoughts of Winter out of my head and open the paper.

I see Liane's face, smiling up at me.

I close it instantly, before shuddering. I can never look at that face the same way. I force myself to build courage and open it.

I stare at Liane's photo. She has her glasses on. Her hair is curly and red. I assume that this was taken today. And that the paper was printed early today too.

Liane's smiling at the camera. To people who don't know, she looks innocent and cheerful. She's attractive, to be honest. But I know what's hiding behind that smile. Even though I've only known her for one day, I know what kind of person she is.

Her brown eyes are staring into mine. Her smile doesn't reach her eyes. They're cold. Cold and proud.

Proud of the 'dirt' she dug up, I think with vehemence. I look up, Mr. Woodly doesn't seem to be starting the lesson yet.

I take a breath and I drop my eyes down to the words on the page. Liane said it was on the first page.

Then I start to read it.



Anger.

Rage.

I'm seething with those emotions.

I stare back at the page. A picture of the 'innocent' Liane Chau stares up at me. Along with the 'drug-infested' Desiree. And me. Me.

This is my fault. Liane wrote this because of my past on drugs. I think she knows something about it. But since she's that much of a jealous bitch, she switched it around to target Desiree. Now I know why Desiree's upset.

It's because of this stupid article. And the stupid article-writer. This stupid article of lies and false truths.