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“Mom I’m leaving!”
No answer.
“Mom?” His voice softens. Running the same worries, he tried to bury so many times. It always started with a ‘too.’ Too much alcohol, too much medicine, too much of both—too much of this same situation.
Finally, steps stumbled through the door from the room at the end of the corridor. She appeared in what looked like what she wore two days ago. An old shirt of The Kooks, with faded gray and the print leaving only the head of the guitarist visible. It belonged to his dad and so did her pyjama bottom.
There was something erratic not only in the way she was walking to him, but in her eyes. She finally made it to the kitchen, opening a bottle without bothering to look at him.
“Where are you going again,” His mother managed to mumble, taking the cap off the beer without having to give any attention to her movement. It became an automatism, something so natural. “Getting yourself in trouble John Murphy? Surprise me.” A heavy laugh emerged from the commissure of her lips.
Her look fell heavily on him. Instantly, his head cut the air, now, staring at the ground. “It was not that simple,” he thought. It was not him. He was not—
“You freaking bastard,” she spitted slowly. She wanted to make sure any hopes of a ‘better self’ he had was crushed. “You will never belong in this fucking society. Do you hear me?! I should have made sure—”
“Fuck you!” He shut the door and everything surrounding him. Eyes close, the only thing that matter from now was how his heart tumbling in his chest. It dug the emptiness he carried so well. “You too…shut up,” the boy’s voice crackled “…Fuck!” He yelled at the sky. No answer. There probably never will be one.
By the time his right hand reached to the phone left in his pocket, he erased any trace of sorrow on his face. “Shit. I’m late.” Murphy’s sigh formed this cold cloud leaving the tremble of his lips. “Whatever.”
School ground without any students felt naked. No usual pairing of people at the same spot, the exact same time, reaching before the beginning of classes. Even if he could walk freely in this empty space, he kept his carapace, at least something he did well.
It was twelve o’clock. He opened the door on all the students already there with the director. Except him. At least maybe he could reach a place without having to look down all the way.
“-All telephones are strictly prohibited and-” Murphy took a deep breath and crossed his fingers to be able to walk to the back of the tables without any comment. Maybe he wished too loud.
“Well, Mister Murphy, I see that you pleased us with your presence. Not only did you have to be there 30 minutes ago, but also you—.” His sentence was cut off by the sound of the door opening on someone else.
“I see that the Blake family is here too.”
Really too loud. Karma became overrated to be it.
The younger girl did not bother to wait for her brother and just threw her stuff on a table behind the blonde. Bellamy, he stood where he entered only a few meters from Murphy. Always standing the same way, arms crossed, lips pressed together making his jaw clenched and his eyes that he did not even dare blinking.
And perfume. This same perfume. A touch of sweet cinnamon and something he could not put his finger on. Probably something warm. He washed those thoughts away and his first reflex was creating a fire, to prove that he was right to hate them.
“Nice perfume Bell. Did you borrow it from your sister?”
The older Blake turned his knuckle white instead of grabbing Murphy’s collar. The director was still there and while Murphy’s word could be ignored, a fist would do no good for the Lacrosse’s captain.
“Mister Blake, Mister Murphy, now enough of your little game. Go take a seat.” It resonated louder when it fell on its name, but that, he got used to it.
They both took place. Bellamy the first, joining his sister who simply exalted a heavy sigh and Murphy, behind the girl with the long brown braids at the opposite of this little group. Pike looked at each one of them, passing a blank page of paper with a pencil.
“Didn’t think you were the artsy kind of person. I should probably have brought my colour pens.” The teacher slammed both items in front of him.
“If you insist Mister Murphy, you can bring your funny joke next Saturday.” Pike did not flinch at his words. He was angry but only his tone rose.
“Wait,” Murphy gave a nervous laugh, “C’mon, I was just—”
“Joking.” Pike cut through. “I know. Always laughing, always joking around. It is what you know best.” He knew he went over-line when every other student glare at him.
“Now I want you to write an essay. Nothing of those usual same sentences you just write and write again. I want you to think about who you think you are and why you happened to be here on a Saturday.” He let his words seek, before glancing at his watch. “You have until 5pm to finish it.” He concluded and left, the door opened on the library, probably not too far to keep an eye on them.
“Well, that sounds fun.” Finally, said Murphy, cutting through the sound of the neon.
“Shut up Murphy.” Probably the only answer he would get, but it was enough for him to make it last.
“What are you gonna do Bell? Unless you move your ass to make me, I don’t see that happening.” The mockery was nearly palpable. No answer from the boy. His pencil was raised in the air, but he did not transcend any movement. So, Murphy tried again.
“I mean clearly, that’s the difference between you and me. I,” and he rose to meet the Blake table, standing his hands in his pocket beside them “am no Captain of the Lacrosse team, and being here on a Saturday instead of a practice doesn’t hurt much let me tell you.” From Bellamy’s silence, he felt proud. Something sensible has been shaken, probably too much because the dark hair’s boy joined him. “No Murphy,” his tone was harder when he pronounced his last name, “The only difference between you and me his that, I have things that I care and you don’t. So keep your precious words for you.”
The other boy felt the air a little bit harder to breathe. But he ignored it. He wanted another storm where there was already one. His lips stretched in this same mimic way he served when he wanted to carry something hurtful. “Ouch,” he meant to disguise his wound into sarcasm, but it always resulted poorly with Bellamy “But guessed that’s not completely false. It’s true, I don’t have a little sister that represents the entire meaning of most of my deci-”
There it was. The flame in the dark of his eyes. Murphy knew he was ready to created violence the moment he mentioned Octavia. Nothing was more explosive than bringing how much – too much – of him was given to another life. But right now, Murphy wanted anything that could make he feels alive.
“Enough! Both of you!” Those words were loud enough to make the grip around his shirt louse. It was the blonde girl, sitting in from of the Blake. “Clarke…” Murmured her friend.
“No, I am sick of it. There is no point at your little fight. Just sit down and do your paper.” She took a deep breath.
“…10$ Griffin is winning this.” Whispered Jasper in the back of the library. Monty joined him. “…that was an easy one not fair…”
Raven chuckled, and Clarke just sat, exhausted of this day already. She wanted to shoot a look at them but instead, she captured hers. Again. Far from this little scene, probably too focused on her paper to care. The girl in front of Murphy never lousing her spine, kept a certain rhythm over her paper. Reading, writing and sometimes, falling against Clarke. It didn’t last long, and it was probably more meant for her to think than staring at the blonde—but she could breathe it. But, when this time she slid on her chair and rested her eyes in the brunette’s way, she met her, and she drew a little empathic smile before turning to her work again. Clarke reflected her reaction, falling into her thoughts.
Her alarm went on and it was the routine all over again. Ten minutes fighting comfort and reality another ten to get something decent, some five to wash her face, brush her teeth and finally a fifteen to give get everything in order before entering the world – including herself. Clarke’s backpack rested on her left shoulder and she stumbled through the stairs to pick a quick breakfast – including a coffee – before having to go to school on a-
“It’s Saturday Clarke,” the voice of her mother was unimpressed but surprised, “How on hell my daughter is up on a Saturday at 8am?”
The girl rolled her eyes, seeing how waking up at 11am sometimes 12pm was unacceptable in this house during the weekend. “I have a thing at the library with my teammates for a project…” She did not tell her she got a suspension. Being the daughter of Abby Griffin always meant somewhere to meet certain standards. Not that she cared, but like her mother keeps repeating, it is 8am on a Saturday. Getting into an ongoing conversation of ‘What on Earth did you do’ or an ‘I taught you better than that’ could not be on the schedule right now. She did not have the energy for that. Not today. But it was already too late for redemption.
“Honey, two weeks ago you told me you couldn’t go to the library to get a book for your final work. Either way you lied to me then or you are lying to me now. So, which is it?” Her tone sounded a little bit too proud.
‘Damn her,’ she swore in her head. Couldn’t she be this parent who just keep vague tracks of what their children are doing?
“I…I got a suspension. And I know,” she put the accent on what followed because she saw how big her mother’s eyes became “That you have a lot of questions, and probably a lot to tell me, but right now I have to go I am late.” She was welcomed on those words by her mom’s mouth hanging open.
Before she could say anything else, Marcus entered the kitchen. He nodded to both, kissing Abby on her head before taking place beside her.
Marcus has been her stepfather for the last three years. Also, a slap in the face. Him showing up in their life was this constant fear of forgetting her father who died. One day they could go at the restaurant all of them together and on the same night she stormed in her room trying to melt in the regret of living when he was gone. But Marcus understood. He kept his distance and never made Clarke feel a drop of guilt of her actions. When she finally washed the anguish of her hands it was on a sunny day, probably a Sunday a year ago. The young blonde sat at the table for breakfast and only Marcus was there, her mother probably in the kitchen. Her stepfather had the newspaper under his glare and posed it.
“You know Clarke, I could never be your father…and you already know that but, I am not here to take his place or to try to fit in your family like he did. I want the best for your mother…and you. I intend to stay if Abby will want me to, but I also want to respect your boundaries in this relation as long as it takes.” He was not infantilizing her nor was he trying to speak thoughts that she already turned over. Maybe she just needed him to say out loud what she kept smashing into her head.
It was a sunny day but raining on her cheeks. He smiled at her and tend a tissue. From now on, Marcus was her best ally in this house. In this kind of situation, he knew he had no authority over Clarke, but he could also read her feelings over Abby’s discipline.
“Clarke! You can’t do like nothing happened and dismissed me. I am still your mother!” And she did not forget that. How could she?
“I think she knows that Abby…she just needs to go right now.” It never sounded like he wanted to be over their opinion. Just trying to ground them into a certain diplomacy and compromised between both feelings.
She eyed him, pursing her lips now that she knew he was right. She hated it, but deep down, she was grateful. “Fine, but tonight we are talking about this.” She didn’t exclude the possibility of Marcus being there to calm the field.
Clarke didn’t want to give her the time for a second thought, so she ran outside to meet Raven’s car like expected in front of the house. She put her bag in the back of the car and joined her friend in the front. “Ready for the day?” She said starting the car.
“If I say no would it means I get to stay home and sleep?” The blonde answered resting her eyes and her head on the car seat. A chuckle is the only response she will get for the rest of the ride and she was okay with it.
After parking the vehicle, they were welcomed by Monty and if Monty was there Jasper was too – even for a suspension. “Good morning ladies!” Yelled Jasper, too loud, too soon. “Jasper,” Simply sigh Clarke knowing it was inevitable. His acolyte just enjoyed his enthusiasm hugging both the girls. “Here we go.” She whispered loud enough to be heard, but mostly for herself, trying to pick up any sense of motivation to go to the library on a Saturday morning.
The doors were already open, and they apparently weren’t the first to arrive. A girl was sitting at a table in the front, with a pile books, scanning her fine eyes into the lines of one them. She didn’t pay attention to their arrival or even Jasper commenting about her to Monty in the most indiscreet way. Clarke gave him a little nudge to make him stop drooling. But she could clearly share how the being of this brunette felt gravitational. She laid the slightest gaze on her and was met with a response from her. It was quick, probably too quick. But she knew they would meet again and for that, Saturday morning’s suspension wasn’t that bad.
Then, Pike came for his speech, John Murphy and the Blake had the little fight, Clarke had to interject between them having a nod of recognition by Octavia and finally chaos whispered goodnight. She could lay silently into the stranger’s eyes, before thinking about what she was doing and refocusing on her paper. If Raven on her left tried to hide her mockery laugh, she did a really poor job. She shot a glance a her, making it worst. The blonde hid inside of her hands trying to escape from the embarrassment. Through the crack between her fingers, she had caught a glimpse of a smile hiding behind something stronger than Clarke’s little comedy. And she kept wondering why.
Something even more surprising made the girl’s tilt her head. Murphy who regain his place start interacting with the brunette in front of him. It did not seem like flirting nor anything romantic, just, a dialogue between them perfectly synergistic.