Melissa sat next to me in all three of the classes we had together and ate lunch with me daily. Though at first she was an annoyance, by the end of the my detentions, she’d learned when to leave the silence be, and I found myself coming to tolerate her. At first, I told myself I was only letting her because I owed her for getting me a few extra hours a week away from Bruce, but eventually I had to admit that I was looking forward to the time I spent with her.

Sure, she talked non-stop, she bought me lunch whether I wanted it or not, and most of the guys at school were pissed because she only hung out with me, but somehow, I found myself looking forward to seeing her at lunch; listening to her tell me about something funny that happened in another class, admiring her choice of outfit(she never seemed to wear the same thing twice!), and even thinking about her when I was at the house.

By the time my detentions had ended, I knew more about Melissa than I did about anyone, except maybe myself. I knew that underneath her cutesy personality, she had this quirky, mischievous side to her that was unpredictable and hilarious. I knew that she was the second-oldest of four kids; I knew her parents had been together since their early twenties; I knew her favorite colors and foods. I knew that she painted; I knew that she took dance, and I knew what her top five choices for college were.

I knew, too, that even though Bruce was still for the most part ignoring me, that it wouldn’t last forever; it never did. Eventually, I’d do something to piss him off again, and he’d forget that he’d been amused by the reason behind my detention and just remember that I had pushed his life back an hour for two months. He'd use that as fuel for his next drug induced rage, which I knew was coming soon.

Bruce had been clean for the entire last two months, which was the longest I'd ever seen him 'sober'. I had no idea why, but I wasn't too stupid to see that he was more and more agitated with each 'sober' day. He'd break down and buy something soon, and when he did, it would be very bad. If I could keep from intentionally pissing him off, I might be able to take off in time to avoid the bulk of it. All I had to do was not piss him off.

 And what better way to piss him off than make a friend? I had resolved shortly after realizing that I couldn’t get Melissa to just go away without causing more trouble for myself at school that I would never let Bruce find out about her. I didn't know what he would do about it, but it wouldn’t be good.

The day my detentions end, Mrs. Kristen, our history teacher, announces that we’ll be doing reports, and we’ll be doing them in pairs. Melissa instantly grabs my arm.

“You’ll be my partner, right?”

I use the shrug I give her as both a cover for my flinch and to pull my arm from her grasp. “Sure,” I tell her, thinking only that her touch has sent chills through me. She grins and pulls a piece of paper from her binder.

“Okay, so first, we’ll need a topic. Then we can narrow down what we want to report on about that specific topic…” -She rummages through her bag for a different colored pen- “It’s only a thousand words long; that’s not too much. We can work out the details as soon as we decide on a topic. Sound good?”

Melissa smiles at me, and I find myself grinning back, lazily watching her work. I let her prattle on, wondering idly if she realizes that I’m letting her make all the decisions, and decide that if she does, she doesn’t mind. I find myself thinking how pleasant her voice is; noticing the way the sunlight shines on her hair; admiring the way she dots her little eyes with smiley-faces…

When the bell rings, Melissa packs up her things and lets me lead the way from the room, asking as we step into the hall, “You don’t have detention anymore, huh?” She hefts her backpack to a more comfortable position and smiles at me. I grin back, touched in spite of myself that she had bothered to keep track.

“Nah,” I tell her, walking with her to the sidewalk in front of the school where she always waits for her mom to pick her up, “Yesta’day w's th’ last day.”

“Awesome!” Melissa beams at me from where she’s settled herself on the low wall that runs the perimeter of the school. “Want to come over to work on our project?” She goes on, but I can’t hear anything over the ringing in my ears. It does register, though, that she is still talking as I blurt out, “No!”

Melissa halts her flow in mid-word, gaping at me in astonishment.

“Well, you don’t have to stay for dinner; it was just a suggestion anyway. My parents can give you a ride home when we’re done, or your parents cou-“

“No!”

This time, my exclamation is filled with more force, and Melissa stops again, her eyebrows drawing together in a questioning frown. I fight panic as I scramble to think of a ‘normal’ reason I can’t go to her house, trying to keep the panic from my expression at the same time.

“Um, Ooookaayyyy…” Melissa drags out the last word as a car pulls up to the curb behind me and honks. Melissa holds up a hand and slowly straightens from the wall. “How come?"

"I jus', uh..." Shit shit SHIT. My brain whirs as I tried to think of a normal explination. I was pretty sure that 'Cause I'm terrified' wasn't normal, and I knew that 'Cause my step-dad might just beat me bloody if I do' wasn't.

Melissa is looking at me strangely, and I realize that I needed to say something. "I gotta' go shoppin wit' my dad," I tell her. She grins as the confusion clears from her face, and I felt my heart hitch.

"Well, how about tomorrow?"

"No," I say automatically, then scramble for an excuse, "I got, uh, I got..." Fuck, I need something that I can't get out of... "I got a doctor's appointment tomorrow."

"Oh...well, Wednesday will work." She flashes me a smile, teeth brilliant in the sunshine. Damnit, why won't she just let this go?

"I'm busy then, too," I tell her. "We c'n jus' do it in th' library some day durin' lunch er somethin', though."

She looks at me strangely again, but says, "Okay, sure I guess..." As she trails off, the horn beeps again, and I can't suppress a flinch at the sound. Melissa stares at me, making no move to the car, and I can feel myself color. Dropping my head, I study my shoes and hope that she'll just leave. When the horn sounds again, I mutter, “Ya’ betta’ get goin’. We c’n talk about it tomorrow.”

Melissa finally, very slowly, starts for the street, eyeing me curiously, and I keep myself still under her scrutiny. I hear the car door open and then close on the greetings she exchanges with her mom, and they pull away. I continue to stare at my feet for a few minutes after they’d gone.

My breathing has almost returned to normal when a hand smacks my head from behind with enough force that my teeth click together. I spin, my fists rising just slightly, to see a wickedly grinning Letti.

“Aw, watcha gonna do, Duncan?” Chad cackles at the sight of my raised fists. Letti’s grin deepens and she nods encouragement to Chad as he closes the distance between us in two steps and reaches out to shove me. I take a swift half-step backwards, forcing my hands to my sides, though I can’t quite get them to unclench.

“Th’ fuck is yer problem?” I snarl, my gaze is fixed on Letti. She places her fingertips on Chad’s sleeve as he moves forward, and he stops. “Problems with your little girlfriend?” she asks deviously.

I take a deep breath and let it out slowly through pursed lips. Chad laughs, but I ignore him and continue only acknowledging Letti.

“Wha’ happened ta’ not talkin’ ta’ me anymore, Letti?” I sneer, forcing contempt past my anxiety, “Ya’ were doin’ so well… Wha’ happened, ya’ miss me? Chad not enough man for ya’ or somethin’?”

I force myself not to move as Chad’s face twists with anger, though I do tense in preparation of a fight. Letti lets out another sharp laugh, setting a staying hand on Chad’s arm. “Let’s go, Chad,” she says, putting on an air of boredom, “I don’t feel like talking to slime after all.” Letti stalks away, and, after giving me a threatening look, Chad follows suit, jogging a few steps to catch up to her. I let out a breath and finally succeed in unclenching my fists. I start the long walk home, letting my mind wander and taking the back alleys so I can smoke a little.