The Scars She Hides

Part 18 - Can dead boys buy you coffee?

The bike ride to Holden's little sister's school wasn't very long, but in comparison to the two minute trip to the dorm I was used to, 20 minutes on the freeway was ... forever.

It was terrifying driving side by side with full size cars. They suddenly seemed like huge monstrous metal machines compared to Holden's bike. Everytime He changed lanes or passed someone I couldn't help but grip his sides a little tighter. It was awful.

And a little bit exciting.

Holden pulled his bike into the school parking lot, and I quickly unclenched my hands from his shirt. He stashed our helmets, and started walking towards the doors to the front office. I could see multiple parents walking through the doors and gates surrounding the parking lot, all of them conversing brightly with their kids. A little girl ran by us, nearly ploughing into Holden as she raced through the door he was holding open. I turned to watch her slam into her mothers legs, wrapping them in a koala-like hug.

A pang of sadness lit through me, seeing that casual mother-daughter moment. The sadness threatened to open a door to all of the other unpacked emotions following my mothers death. I wasn't in denial that my mother had died, I was very well aware of the fact she was never coming back. I would rather pack away my less than positive emotions relating to my mothers death in neat little boxes in my head, rather than air them out and deal with whatever breakdown was sure to follow such an event.

Why be depressed when you can repress? A solid piece of advice from my therapist. 

That's a lie. But it was working for me so far so... 

I turned away from the girl and her mother, catching Holden watching me with a knowing eye. Sometimes the tall boy-man was too observant for his own good.

As we passed through the office, Holden waved at the secretary, not even stopping to check in. She waved back with a fond smile. Seeing me, she tilted her head and gave me a curious look. I don't know how often Holden came through the office, but it was obvious he never brought anyone with him.I followed behind him closely, not feeling comfortable just walking past the curious stares.

We walked through the halls, Holden leading me through the white tiled maze with ease. We finally approached a propped open door covered in messy art from multiple 5th graders. I could hear soft music playing, along with the constant chatter of a young girl.

Holden walked right through the door, again, unhesitating.

The anxious introvert in me baulked at his confidence. You can't just walk right into places. What if you had the wrong place? What if it was the wrong time? Who was in the room? How many people would look up when you walked through the door?

I swallowed back my anxious checklist and followed him in, with a healthy amount of hesitation.

To my relief it was just the teacher and a young girl present, presumably Holden's sister. They were seated behind a large metal desk, the teacher marking papers with a red pen, and the girl chattering away about ... something. She was talking so fast I could hardly catch a word coming out of her mouth.

They both looked up at our entrance. The little girl had light brown pig tails, and huge dark framed glasses that took up her whole face. She was studying me with squinty eyes, like she couldn't see me clearly. Her head tilted one way. Then the other.

My steps faltered. I was feeling suspiciously judged by this ten year old girl. Did I have helmet hair? Was there something wrong with my clothes? Were my scars showing? My fingers gripped the cuffs of my jacket, tugging the fabric to cover my hands. What could she possibly be looking at SO hard-

"You cheated." she announced, squinting her eyes and looking at Holden.

I froze altogether.

Holden seemed bothered and continued his lazy stroll towards the metal desk.