Andy

School was rough from the moment I walked through the door that day. After history, I had a ten minute break before biology, so I reached into my back pocket but then patted them frantically before realizing my dad had my phone, with no intentions of returning it anytime soon.

I groaned in irritation. How unfortunate the whole situation was, and what a pile of shit the whole week had been.

Elizabeth showed up at my side a few minutes later, and for the first time in days, Mark was not at her side.

"Hey," she greeted me with a smile. I accepted her kind gesture gratefully, but was incapable of returning one.

"Hey." I sighed.

"What's wrong?"

"I got grounded yesterday, so my Dad took my phone. More importantly, my music."

I looked at her and she looked guilty. It wasn't her fault, she didn't know I was ditching, otherwise she probably would've covered for me. But she was concerned that I might be sick, so she took the time to call my house and check in.

"Is it something I did...?" She trailed off awkwardly, combing her fingers through her long, brown hair. I shook my head.

"No... It's actually on my part. I got home too late yesterday, and my parents had the cops, the Turners and the Biersacks at my house. So now my parents are pissed at me because it was like seven last night when I finally got back."

"Where were you?" she wondered in confusion.

"I just went to this old house I like to visit sometimes, and worked on some new lyrics. Ended up falling asleep though."

I watched Elizabeth fidget and struggle to say something supportive, but the truth was I didn't want her to say something supportive or sympathetic. I wanted her to slap my arm, laughing, telling me I'm a fuck up. Elizabeth was never open and direct with me, always careful not to step on my toes, but now that I'd had a taste of that kind of friendship I craved more of it – more of the genuine feeling. But it was clear I'd never get that from her, no matter how many years we'd been friends... And then, she said something that just set me off.

"You look different, Ash. Did you change your makeup?"

I recoiled like a snake, unsure why her comment bothered me so much, or maybe it just bothered me that my change in appearance was noticeable.

"Excuse me?"

"Uh..." She looked at me in confusion.

"I look like I crawled out of a grave, right?" I asked with mocking amusement, clapping my hands against my thighs, scoffing.

"I'm sorry, Ash, I didn't-"

"Didn't mean to call me a corpse? A freak?"

"I didn't say that." She narrowed her eyes, replying defensively.

"Well everyone's thinking it!" I declared, looking around at the other students in the hall. A few of them had stopped to watch our conversation unravel with mild curiosity.

"You know they are... And you probably are, too. Wondering why you can't be friends with a normal person." I shook my head, and she looked like she was getting mad, about to spit out some speech about me being beautiful and all that crap. She took in a big puff of air, but I blew out her flame before she could even get started.

“Just save it, would you? I'm not in the mood to hear it.”

Then a wave of shock and hurt was running through my whole body, my face cast downwards. Involuntarily, I reached up to touch her handprint. Anger flared in her face as she stood over me.

"I don't know who the hell you are anymore, Asheen. Get your shit straight and call me when you figure out who the fuck you are," she sneered angrily.

I rose to the occasion, clenching and unclenching my fingers as the anger boiled in me, like it had every time someone called me a freak or made fun of Andy. I could feel the red building up around my vision and the adrenaline coursing through my veins as I lashed out, my hand flying from my side, not flat, palm out, for a bitch slap. My fingers were bound tight, in a firm fist, headed for her pretty little face.

“OW!”

Elizabeth flew back against the crowd on onlookers in surprise, and instantly, the blood started to run from her nose and busted lip. She clutched them in pain, tears forming in her eyes as she shot a glare at me and tried to muster up the most hurtful thing she possibly could, but her words were taken by an anguished sob.

People were glaring at me, hugging Elizabeth and giving her kind words as they handed her tissues.

I could see the bright red crimson running between her fingers and staining the neckline of her pretty pink blouse. Blood pooled in the grooves of her teeth and matted in her hair, and the droplets on her cheeks thinned as the pained tears touched them.

I looked down at my left hand, her blood spilled across my knuckles in an abstract pattern, and suddenly I snapped out of it and realized what I’d done. I finally took it into account that I’d hurt someone. And not just anyone – my best friend.

“Elizabeth, I- I’m sorry!” I exclaimed, feeling terrible as I started to push through the crowds to get to her, but people kept shoving me back. I pushed against them more, and they just kept pushing back. Angry eyes met my terrified blue ones. I wanted to apologize, and they wouldn’t have it.

Elizabeth pushed through the crowd on her own and faced me, looking something of a mess. Her eyes were full of betrayal and hurt. She stood there sniffing, trying to muster up something to say.

“You’re right...” she says after a careful pause of thought. “You are a freak. No, a fucking psycho.”

The principal showed up then, with his posse of teachers just dying to get a student in trouble. They scanned the crowd like sharks, looking for the source of trouble. I stood there, feeling more like a victim than the villain. She hit first... I could say it was self-defence, but it wasn’t... It was just me losing my mind and taking it out on her.

My eyes were wide as Principal Johnson split the crowd with his hard glare and approached me. He already knew it was me. I had blood all over my hand. He looked down at me, his gaze neither angered nor hurt. He knew what he was doing, and how he was going to execute it, carefully calculating inside his shaved bald chrome-dome.

“Anyone want to tell me what happened here?” he asked calmly, his shared gaze with me never flickering to another face.

“Asheen punched Elizabeth for no reason!” someone cried out from behind me, and I cringed. He finally retired his gaze and walked towards Elizabeth, crouching to her height.

“Let me see.”

She moved away her shaking, angered hands, and revealed the swollen, broken lip, blood still dripping from her chin. And her nose didn’t look broken, but it was bleeding enough for it to be serious.

“Is this true?” he asked her, giving her the stare of truth. With a muffled sniffle, her eyes drifted from his to mine, and they were cold and emotionless as she answered.

“Yes,” she lied.