Chapter Text
Maple Street usually bloomed with lilies, roses, and daffodils this time of year. It was how I determined the end of summer; the greener the garden outside my bedroom window got, the closer I was to a new school year.
The terrace seemed happier, which was fitting. I imagined it was the universe's way of telling me, “Hey, Leah, just keep holding on; you’ll be out of the house in no time.”
Because that was how I’d spent my summer break—locked inside my bedroom, studying for an exam that was never coming. Books were tossed all over the desk, which sat beside a shelf filled with dusty books from previous summers I had spent just the same.
“Leah, get down here—you're going to miss your bus!” Mam shouted.
Since it was the first day of school, Mam had woken especially early to cook breakfast and see me off.
“I'm coming!”
Grabbing the uniform Mam had ironed for me last night, I quickly put it on and walked over to my stand-alone mirror to examine my messy hair. It had grown longer over the summer, reaching slightly past my shoulders now. I combed through it, careful not to rip through the strands.
When I opened my bedroom door, the smell of cooked eggs drew me down the stairs, where Mam was setting the table for both of us. She turned to face me.
“Morning, pet, how'd you sleep?” she asked.
“Good,” I replied quickly, strolling over to the seat in front of her. “You didn't have to cook for me.” I grabbed a fork and stuffed my mouth full of scrambled eggs.
“Oh, I know. I just wanted to make something for my beautiful girl on her first day of fifth year,” she said, giving my cheeks a slight wiggle, and I gave her a small smile. She sat across from me. “Are you excited?”
I thought about it for a moment. “Um, yeah, I guess? But you know, just another year.”
She hummed in response, eyes trailing over me. I knew what she was doing—eyeing me to make sure I was ‘perfect.’ Whatever that meant.
“Is that how you're going to style your hair for school, Leah?” Her attention had now shifted back to her own batch of eggs.
With my mouth full, I replied, “Mhm.”
“Oh.” She held back her tongue, but I knew it wouldn't last long.
After that, we stayed silent, a world of opinions behind her eyes. I gulped down my eggs and Mam was taking in my behavior, slowly eating her own breakfast in a perfectly composed manner.
The silence that enveloped the room was too much for me to handle. I made sure to chew loudly—not so loud that she would chastise me, but not too quiet that I couldn’t focus on the noise. I knew she was staring at the bruises on my arms; the twitch in my right eye gave it away. I silently prayed she wouldn't bring up last night.
After I was done eating, Mam took my dish to the sink to wash it. "Wouldn't want this leaving a bad smell,” she explained with a soft smile.
She washed the dish and carefully balanced it on the dish rack. “Your father’s at work.”
I closed my eyes in fearful anticipation. “I know.”
“What happened last night, Leah? That was a mistake.” She walked over to where I was sitting and gently tugged at my hair, twisting it into a loose ponytail.
My fists clenched around my fork. “I know.”
“He didn't mean to do that, baby. He's just stressed with work; they have him working double.” She tightened her hold on the ponytail, and I fought the urge to push my hands away.
“I know, Mam.”
She sighed in relief, wrapping a hairband around my hair. “I knew you would understand, so unlike your hot-tempered sister.” She chuckled, and I rolled my eyes. “Reminds me so much of her father.”
She grabbed the end of my ponytail, twisting it over and over, and I tried to focus on that instead of the anger and betrayal consuming me. It didn’t work.
I slammed my hands on the dining table with a loud thud and jumped up. Mam flinched from the sudden move. "I’m going to go wait for my bus.”
She glanced at the clock, perched next to our family picture by the stairs. “But it's still 7; your bus doesn't arrive until 7:20.”
I pushed away from her and stepped to the front door; she followed alongside me. “I'll wait at the bus stop.”
“Are you sure? It's pouring out there, sweetie—”
“I’m sure.”
She frowned, and I glared at her, silently daring her to argue.
“Okay, just make sure to wear your jacket.”
“Okay, Mam.” I wrapped my school blazer around me and stepped outside, the heavy rain quickly soaking my clothes.
“Don't get yourself into any trouble,” I heard her drowned-out demand.
“I never do!”
✨📖✨
School was my comfort place. It was the one thing I could count on never changing, from the weird metal smell that only grew worse when I was near the student staircase to the cafeteria where I tripped, ripping my skirt and exposing my pink Powerpuff Girl knickers.
It was comforting, and God knows I needed comfort after the summer I’d had. I looked around, spotting familiar and unfamiliar faces. First-years roamed the area, looking lost and confused; perfect.
As school president, it was my job to look hospitable and approachable. So I smiled as I walked down the hall—wide enough that my gums showed.
“What the hell is wrong with your face?” a familiar voice asked.
I didn’t stop walking. “What? Do you not feel compelled to ask me questions about our school?”
“Keep smiling like that and I’ll feel compelled to ask a teacher to call a pastor. For an exorcism.”
“I’m trying to look friendly,” I explained.
“You don’t.”
“How about now?” My eyes crinkled as I smiled even wider.
“Worse. Please stop.”
I rolled my eyes. “Whatever, Dalia, you don't know what you're talking about.”
When a young boy walked past us, I smiled again, my cheeks now aching. I made sure to make eye contact with him to really make him feel welcome.
The boy's eyes widened in fear as he picked up his pace.
Dalia laughed. “Oh my god, he's horrified!”
I frowned. “I really thought that would work.”
Dalia was my closest friend—or really, she was my only friend. After last year's… incident, I learned quickly that I could never truly know or trust anyone, but Dalia stuck by me despite everything that happened.
“What’s your first class?” I asked.
“I’ve got French. What about you?”
“Crap, I have English.”
“Ugh, don't tell me this year will be the same as last and we won't have any classes together.” I flinched at the mention of last year.
"At least we'll meet again during lunch—“
I heard a sudden thud echo through the school’s main area, and students gathered around in a circle, cheering loudly, “Fight, fight, fight!”
Dalia frowned. “What's going on?”
“I don't know, who's getting into fights on the first day?” I asked, and she shrugged in response.
I was already on the move when I said, “I’m going to check it out.”
“Leah, come back—“ I heard Dalia shout over my shoulder, but this was my responsibility. I needed to make sure everything was in order; nothing could go wrong this year.
I pushed through the bustle of the crowd. “Watch it, girl,” a voice warned.
“Is that Leah? Some nerve she has coming back here.” Another voice—a girl snickered.
I pushed through my shame, but was jolted to a stop when I saw what everyone was staring at.
A blond boy perched atop an older-looking boy, or at least I assumed he was older; I couldn't really tell from the blood smudged all over his face.
The boy on top of him punched him over and over again till I was sure the older boy was unconscious.
“What the hell are you doing? Get off of him!” I ran and pushed the boy off.
He hit the ground with a loud smack, then his eyes scanned the place, wild and accusatory, searching for the person who dared to interfere. His eyes finally landed on me.
“Mind your own fucking business,” he growled, warning me off and grabbing the boy by his collar.
Before he could strike, I shoved him again. “Stop—just stop!”
The boy snarled.
“I’m going to tell the principal!”
That seemed to work because the boy completely froze, and somehow, so did the whole room.
It was so quiet. I could hear my short, fearful breaths.
When he regained control of his body—and I knew he did because he wrenched the boy away from him and turned to look at me, his eyes clear and focused now.
“What did you say?” He demanded.
Although my stomach was twisting with nausea, I stood up straighter.
“I’m going to tell Principal Twomey!” I repeated.
The 'oooo's' coming from around us did not make the situation any better.
The boys' responding chuckle also did not, filling me with concern and unease.
“Did you not hear me? I said—“
“I know what you said.” He stood up, and my eyes followed him up, and up, and up, god, how tall was this boy? He walked over to me, his height intimidating. My heart pounded with fear and slight anticipation.
“Don’t worry, girl, I heard you.” He smirked. “Loud and clear.” His eyes trailed to the school president badge hanging from my neck, “Leah Daly.” He mocked, giving it a slight nudge and causing it to swing from side to side.
He was so close to me that I could see the scar on his cheek. It looked old, but it was bleeding. Reopened; never given a chance to properly heal, I assumed.
“Get away from her!”
Dalia grabbed my hand and pulled me behind her. She stood in front of the boy, steady and unfaltering, challenging him with her body.
“I don’t care who you fight, Tadgh. You don’t touch her.”
Tadgh? Where had I heard that name before?
The boy chuckled as if the thought of hurting me was funny. “Don’t worry—I don’t hit girls,” he said, as if it were a page he was reading out of a moral ethics book.
Funny how he drew the line at hitting girls, not people in general.
“Yeah? I find that hard to believe considering who your father is,” Dalia retorted, still unwavering and fighting with all her might.
Tadhg froze, his nostrils flaring. For a moment, I thought he was going to strike back, but then he seemed to take in his surroundings, tense and aware, like a cornered animal. Without another word, he shoved through the crowd and stormed off.
Dalia sighed contently, satisfied with her win. She then turned to everyone watching us.
She threw her hands up, “Does anyone have anything they'd like to add?”
She waited a beat. “No? So, move along. Now, please,” she shooed at the crowd of students, and I heard a mutter under someone's breath, something along the lines of “what a bitch”.
I ran over to the unconscious boy.
Crouching in front of him, I slapped his face. Hard. “Are you okay?!” When he gave no reaction, I smacked him even harder. “Say something, please. I can’t be late to my English lesson!”
Dalia sighed, exasperated with my weird obsession with punctuality. “Leah, just go—I’ll take him to the nurse’s office.”
“Are you sure? I don't have to go.” I didn't have to go, but I sure would bitch about it the whole time—and Dalia knew that.
“I’m sure.”
My chest heaved, and my hands were still trembling. The boy on the floor groaned—finally conscious, thank god. But for a moment, I just stood there, staring at him, the crowd dispersing around us.
I shook my head to clear it. I needed to focus on my lesson.
“Thank you, Dalia!” I said, bolting toward my classroom.
✨📖✨
I tried to focus on my English teacher—I really did. I was even taking notes; Mrs. Murphy was definitely talking about essay writing formats, or was it articles?
It didn't matter. I couldn't stop thinking about what happened. The bloody older boy. The boy with the cheek scar. The way everyone was looking at me.
I had so many questions, and no answer to any of them.
Why were they fighting in the first place? Should I have even gotten involved? How did that boy get that scar on his cheek?
My thoughts swirled, but I barely had time to ponder before the classroom door opened.
“You’re late, Tadgh Lynch.” Mrs. Murphy said in that characteristically dramatic way she talked.
Wait—Tadgh? I looked up. It was that boy. Oh god.
“Sorry. Something came up.” he said.
Something came up? Yeah, right. He was in a fight—I saw the whole thing!
“Well, Tadgh,” Mrs. Murphy dwelled on his name. “I wouldn't expect anything less from you.”
Tadgh awkwardly shrugged her off and scanned the classroom, his eyes meeting mine. My stomach twisted in horror, and he widened his eyes in shock but quickly resolved back to that I-don't-give-a-fuck expression he had earlier.
“Let’s see now.” Mrs. Murphy’s gaze swept the room, landing on the empty seat beside me. “Aha! You can sit over there, Tadgh. Right next to Leah.”
What? NO.
Tadhg's eyes were still on me, and I silently begged him to sit somewhere else. Please, anywhere but here.
“Ah, is there any other place I can sit?” he asked Mrs. Murphy.
I silently thanked the universe for this small mercy.
“Oh, I'm sorry, Tadghy-boy, there are no available seats.” Mrs. Murphy gestured to our full classroom.
You've got to be fucking kidding me.