The Prison Project [-Editing-]

04: Linley

Not too sure how I feel about this chapter...oh well. Here it is anway. I'll probably edit it some other time. Picture of Mrs. Macnab (will also be referred to as Desiree throughout the story) to the right -->

(January 6, 2013) Alright, I edited it. Feels a bit better now :)

04: Linley

I stay sitting on my bed, surrounded by multiple pillows for at least another hour. I keep my face buried in the softest pillow I could find and have my iPod playing Wake Me Up When September Ends. Whenever I have one of my bad days concerning my parents, that’s the song I always play, seeing as how it completely describes what I had gone through. Ironically enough, my parents died in September. It's on these days that I lock my room for hours and refuse to come out until the next morning. And that’s where I am right now. I don’t think I can face anyone. I’ve always been a “tough” girl; I don’t cry over anything. But this is just too much for me to handle.

I hear the front door slam downstairs. Probably Trey…I think. I wonder if he even knows what's happened to me. But I’m not about to ask him. I don’t want him to see me like this. I burrow my legs under my comforter and snuggle further into my pillows. After a few more minutes, there is a knock on my door.

“Lin?” Trey says, his voice muffled by my closed door.

“Not now, Trey,” I croak, still refusing to lift my face from my pillow.

But, being the stubborn child that he is, he opens the door and comes into my room anyway. I still keep my face hidden. I feel him plop down on my bed next to me and place an arm around me. Memories from third grade come flooding back:  flashes of the day when my parents died. I see Trey and I walking home and going into the elderly lady’s house. I see myself running from the room and hiding in my own house. I see Trey coming in and holding my hand, showing me that he understood and was there for me.

I consider lifting my face from the pillow, now remembering that Trey understands. It’s okay for him to see me crying. I mean, he has before. What's the difference of him seeing me now? Oh yeah, that's right. I'm not eight years old anymore. But a small voice at the back of my head says that it's still okay. I pull my head out of the pillow and take in Trey's facial expression. I see no trace of irritation or amusement. All that is there is concern for me. I sniff.

“Did you hear?” I ask quietly.

He nods solemnly. He takes his arm back from around my shoulder and reaches behind him. To my surprise, when he pulls his arm back again, he pulls my cap back with it. He twirls it on his finger and then hands it to me.

“Ta-da,” he says, smiling.

I gingerly take the cap from his hands and stare at it, slightly in shock. I look up into his smiling face. And then I hug him.

“How?” I ask.

He sighs. “I’ll tell you when I get back tonight; I’ve gotta go start getting ready. But I will tell you that it involves a fight and some very angry jocks and cheerleaders.” As soon as he says fight, I examine his face a little more closely. There is a small cut on his lip, and I can see a bruise forming above his eye.

“You got in a fight?” I say, a little louder than I meant to.

He nods and then shrugs. “Had to get your cap back somehow,” he says, slowly sliding off of my bed and then padding towards the door. I watch him incredulously. I just can’t believe that he got in a fight for me. He stops in the doorway and looks back at me.

“You sure you don’t want to come tonight?” he asks.

I nod.

“Alright then. I guess I’ll see you later?”

I smile and nod again. He smiles back, and then disappears from my doorway and into the hall.

“Hey, Trey?” I call quickly.

He reappears at my door. “Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

He smiles. “Anything for you, Lin.” And with that, he is gone. I pull my cap onto my head and grin as the familiar feeling of having it on returns. I let out a low whistle and then sit back against my wall, examining my room. I have a signed Green Day poster hanging on the wall, along with a framed picture of Trey and I with the band at a concert a couple of years back, which was seriously the best night of my entire life. My drum set sits opposite of my bed, tucked into a corner. On my nightstand is a framed picture of my parents and I, just before they died. I pick it up and cradle it in my hands, staring at our happy faces. One last tear slides down my face.

I don’t feel like watching TV or a movie anymore. I honestly don’t know what I want to do anymore. Well, I do know what I want to do: I want to hang out with Trey. But I couldn’t do that unless I… I stop mid-thought and feel my eyes go wide, shocked at myself for even thinking about it. Just go, Linley. How bad can it be? I shake my head. I’m never showing my face there…but Trey’ll be there…No, no I can’t. I sit there arguing with my self for a long time. I try distracting myself by learning another song on the drums, but it doesn't work. I try reading a book, but that doesn't work either. I de-face Alexa in the yearbook. It provides me with a good chuckle, but that small idea still lingers at the back of my mind, taunting me with my own hesitation. I glance at the clock and note that it is only five o’clock. Groaning, I crawl off my bed and open my bedroom door. Just do it you wimp. I sigh. Fine. I, Linley Peterson, am going to the homecoming dance.

I trudge out of my room and go to find Desiree. I find her in the master bedroom, packing a suitcase and watching a movie. She and Collin are leaving out of town tomorrow, and both have been too busy to pack until today. I feel awful interrupting her, but I need help. I don’t even know how to be a proper girl, let alone get ready for a school dance for Pete’s sake.

“Hey, Lin!” Desiree says brightly as I enter. “What’s up?”

I sigh and plop down in a chair at the foot of the bed.

“I wanna go to homecoming.”

She immediately stops what she is doing and looks up at me.

“You do?”

“Uhh, yeah…but I don’t know what to do…”

She smiles at me as she comes and kneels in front of me.

“Would you like me to help you?”

I nod. “If it’s not too much trouble.”

“Of course it isn’t, Linley. Come on, let’s start getting you ready.”

I stand with her as she leads me to the bathroom, thinking, Oh God, help me survive this.