Exotic

~ time is of the essence ~

did caleb end up coming home last night?

I suppose I should have been thankful for Lauren's series of missed calls from the night before, even though I'd ignored them. Deleting her number had been rash. I was crouched in a stall in the boy's bathroom block, clenching my phone almost hard enough to crack the plastic. I'd thrown up again in the toilet, whatever was left of my breakfast flushed away and leaving me feeling hollow.

Aidan would use lunch as an opportunity to spread what he'd overhear. I wondered if he'd cite me. My best bet was to warn Caleb, so he could pre-empt Aidan's attack. After the vicious way their friendship had ended, people would be wary of anything Aidan said. Caleb just had to be prepared.

Why the fuck had I deleted his number?

I had no way of reaching him, no way of knowing if he'd even shown up to school. As I tapped my feet, urgent for Lauren's response, I read the graffiti on the inside wall. For a good time, call Liv XXXX-XXX-XXX. Detailed drawings of dicks raining down the left wall. JACK W HERE. learn how to fucking aim, jackasses. BOOBS. Dick Was Sucked Here, 10/03/19.

Stay classy, Truman, I thought scathingly.

My phone chimed, and I reached for the toilet paper as I opened Lauren's message. I hadn't realised I'd been crying – leaking, rather – until my tears were soaking through my shirt and my lips were wet with mucus.

Now you want to know?

She was mad. That was fair. Thankfully, her messages didn't stop there.

He got home about one AM.

The family meeting went until three.

The mere thought of being on the receiving end of an intervention lead by Selene Proust, a woman at her limit if Reece was to be believed, terrified me. I wondered how Caleb was holding up, having his illusion of perfection well and truely shattered. It just made me fear for further damage at the hands of my loose fucking lips. 

I hit call, deciding the conversation would be easier to have in-person, and waited, only to be sent straight to voicemail. She texted as I wiped off my face again.

Dude, I'm in class ffs.

Right. I was hiding from my second period in the bathrooms, like the quintessential middle school cliché I was.

sorry.

is he at school today?

The door opened, and I lifted my legs off the floor, tucking my knees under my chin as I perched on the toilet seat. I was conscious not to sniff audibly, pressing more toilet paper to my eyes to stop the escaping anxious tears.

I mean he left to go to school but idk if he's there.

He drove Jake in.

Do you want Jake's #?

My shoulders tensed upon reading his name. I wasn't forgetting that her other brother seemed to be pursuing me with cruel intentions.

can i have calebs?

You don't have Caleb's #?

long story. please?

Her hesitation was so long that I wasn't sure she'd oblige. But her next message was a collection of digits, unfamiliar, but most phone numbers were. I seemed to remember Caleb's having a 3 somewhere in it, but it wasn't as if I was in any state to rely on recall faculties.