Chapter Thirty: "Well, That Was Fun. . . Right?"
"I'M SORRY, but I need to cancel." I say through the phone.
"Why? This is our make-up date."
"Can we make a make-up make-up date?" I ask anxiously. "Look, I am sorry to have to reschedule but I can't miss this. It is mandatory and I can't back out."
"Yeah, no, I understand," Atticus sighs. "We'll plan it some other time."
"I just don't want to only study for an hour before I have to leave," I say sadly. I love spending time with Atticus. He's funny, sweet, and though he may be flirty and cocky, he's a great person to be around and I enjoy his company. "I'm sorry, Atticus, I really am."
"Don't worry about it Sweetheart," he assures me, "it's just Chemistry."
"And English," I remind him.
He chuckles. "Yes, how can I forget when you have hundreds of slip ups whenever we hangout."
"I can't help it," I protest. "I stop being so cautious when I'm around people I'm comfortable with. I'm sure you'll get used to it."
"I will?" He teases.
"Well I hope so." I laugh. "If not, this friendship was short-lived."
"Then I better get used to it now." He adds.
I laugh again, and sigh. "I'd love to stay and chat, but I'm really tired and I have to do chores in the morning. Thank you for understanding."
"It's no problem, May. I'll see you at school tomorrow?"
"Bright and early." I confirm, and hang up.
Atticus texted me not too long after we got off the phone in the car to call him when I arrived home safely. Surely enough, I kept to my promise and then proceeded to tell him that I needed to cancel my tutoring session. He doesn't know why, just that I have an appointment I can't skip. He probably thinks it's for my broken arm, but I still have another week until I have to see the doctor. If all goes well, two weeks after that appointment and the cast is permanently off my arm, thank God.
I place my phone back in my pocket and proceed to the barn where I excused myself from Landon. He's doing his chores since I don't do them yet, and he's checking out one of the pregnant ones.
"This is Fire," he says once he hears me approach him. "We got her a few months ago. Isn't she beautiful?"
I smile at the golden coloured horse in front of me. She has a patch of skin missing near her butt, which does look like a flameâI see where they got the name. "She's gorgeous," I say honestly. "And she's going to become a mom, too?"
Landon nods. "She is. In a couple weeks she's due if all goes well."
"The one you showed me, with the foal I could keep, what is her name?" I ask him, reaching out and stroking her stomach when Landon starts to place hay into her feeder.
"Rosita," he chuckles. "We got her from a ranch out east in New Brunswick. Her owners were an older couple and they were starting to have difficulty taking care of their horses so they needed to sell them."
I nod sadly. It must hurt having to get rid of something you love. I know that's how I felt. I had my own horse at my Aunt's and she got auctioned off to some sketchy people in Idaho. They paid huge money for her and my aunt couldn't refuse such a thing.
You grow a strong bond with these creatures, only to have them leave you forever. It's heartbreaking and I didn't take it that well. That's why I'm worried about adopting this foal. I don't want to fall in love with this beautiful animal only to leave her behind because I swore to myself that I'd go back home when I had the chance. And the worst part is, is that none of my friends even own enough land that I can put this angel on.
"Blue?" Landon questions, voicing me out of my thoughts.
"Sorry, what did you say?"
"I asked if you decided what you wanted to name the foal," he replies oddly. "Are you okay?
"Me? Oh yeah, fine. Just got a case of nostalgia."
"You sure?" He presses.
"Yeah. I was just thinking about my horse back at my aunt's ranch. Just couldn't think to fall in love with the foal and have to leave her."
Landon frowns. "Like I said, Blue, you don't need to leave."
I shrug. We'll see how the next couple months go.
***
"But I don't understand how you know how many shells are in an element!" I exclaim.
"Okay," Atticus sighs, "so you know how your atomic number, proton, and electron count are the same?" I nod. "Well, with Rutherford Bohr diagrams, there's a rule. Two in the first, and eight in the second and third."
"I know that much." I grumble, but pay attention nonetheless. "I just don't get how you know how many to put in each shell."
"I'm getting there." He groans. I may or may not have been giving him a hard time with today's lesson. Whoops. "Anyway, so, let's use Boron as an example. It's number five on the Periodic Table, and has a proton and electron count of five as well. So, on a Bohr diagram, we put those five in the shells. We put two in the first one because that's the max, and we put the remaining three in the second shell."
"Okay, I get it now, kinda." I nod. "So what are valence electrons?"
"They're how many electrons you have left to put in to fill the eight in the outermost shell. So, with Boron, we have two electrons already in there, and three filling in the second orbit, but there's no other electrons to fill in the whole eight, so those three are the valence electrons. Now, would it be easier to gain five electrons, or to lose the three already there?"
"Lose?" I answer more as a question.
"Right." He agrees with a smile. "See? Progress, Sweetheart."
"I'm so stupid," I say with laughter, smacking my hands against the textbook. "I'm a genius, how is it that I lost all my knowledge?"
"Trauma, maybe?" He offers. "It's happened, I've seen. You can be the smartest person on record and then something traumatizing happens and you're bumped down to failing. It's the neuroscience of it. It's like everything you knew besides that bad thing that happened was deteriorating, and then everything you once knew is gone; poof, out of the window, vanishing into nonexistence."
"You seem to get it well," I say. "Experience, or do you just like reading?"
"Both," he mutters.
I don't press any further.
A long silence passes, and I check the time. I see that it's already ten o'clock. Damn, had I really spent eight hours with Atticus? I guess it would make sense considering we hung out, ate dinner, then studied.
A thought comes to me as I start packing up and see that Atticus has yet to bring anything to the table to study.
"Can I ask you something?" I ask as I place my books in my bag. "You don't need to answer if you don't want to, but it's always at the back of my mind."
He looks at me, trying to read my eyes for anything that could clue into what I'm thinking or expressing, but he's not going to find anything. I've grown to become quite the expert on turning my emotions on and off. "Sure."
I take a deep breath, nodding as I walk to the front door, placing my bag over my shoulder and slipping on my shoes. His mom's aren't home and they both took a car so I'm walking back.
"Why is it that you have so much knowledge on hand, but you don't use anything?" I ask. "I mean, I've never once seen you come to school with a notebook or binder or textbook, and even when you tutor me you don't use them for reference. Why is that?"
He sighs, coming up and leaning against the doorframe as I look at him questionably. He can lie, but I'll figure out the truth one way or another. "I have a photographic memory. Anything I see or write down or read, I remember it. Every little detail. It's not like some little thing where I can remember a few pages of a textbook. I can recall memories from my toddler years; you know the ones you can't remember from?"
I nod, in silence, signalling him to continue.
"Yeah, well, that's me. I remember every little detail of everything. I can even remember what I wore for my two year old birthday party."
"Which was?"
"A white and blue plaid shirt and dark blue jeans. I had on Spider-Man socks, cowboy boots, and I was even wearing a Huggies diaper that was very well full."
"Oh my," I laugh softly. "That must have been hectic."
"Believe me, it was." He grins.
I suddenly frown. "It must suck remembering memories you want to forget, doesn't it?" I ask gently.
He tenses, and I watch his jaw click. "Yeah, it does. So much."
I decide to not press further into the topic. I give him a small smile. "Well, thanks for the session Atticus."
"Anytime Sweetheart," he returns the look. I turn around and open the door, but stop when he calls out to me. "Do you want to go out tomorrow after school? No tutoring or anything, but just hanging out? Like a movie or something?"
"Alone?" I ask with a smirk.
"Um. . . yes?" He answers sheepishly.
"Like a. . . date?" I ask with raised eyebrows.
I see a faint blush rise on his cheeks. "Yes, like a date."
I give him a wide smile, but then drop it. "IâI'd love to, but I can't. I have someplace I have to be at four. I'm so sorry."
He frowns deeply and I so badly want to cancel therapy to go on a date with him. I don't want him to feel rejected because I'm forced to talk to someone about my problems. It's worse enough that Monday's session was brutal and very argumentative.
"Yeah, sure." He says sadly.
I walk up and grab his shoulder. "I really want to," I start, giving him hopeful eyes, "but I can't. Mondays and Thursdays can't work for me until after six and by then my days are already ruined. Maybe on Friday or Sunday? We can cancel a tutoring lesson and go out instead?"
He nods, a smile slowly appearing on his lips. "Yeah, I'd like that."
I lean in, and press a soft kiss on his cheek. "I'd like that too," I whisper in his ear, and pull away, dropping my arm and walking through the door. "Goodnight Atticus."
"Good night, Sweetheart." He smiles. "Be careful, please."
I give him a small nod, walking out of the door and he closes it behind me. I walk down his driveway, onto the shoulder of the road. Grabbing out my phone and headphones, I pop them in my ears and play some music. I hum along with the beat as I approach the bend that comes around our road, and see a big, bulky figure standing not too far from me.
Curious, I take a headphone out and hear a short, low rumble, like someone's stomach when it's empty. I furrow my eyebrows as I slow my pace and try to figure out what the heck is making that noise. It's unlikely that someone will be walking out here around this time, and making all this noise.
I hear a snort after, and then the figure makes a loud growl when it notices me.
"Oh brother," I gulp, standing completely still. The figure and I continue to stare at one another, and suddenly it stands higher than it already was. I immediately throw my hands up. "Easy there, doggie," I say softly.
I feel my heart pound in my chest, and it suddenly feel like my legs are Jell-O and won't move anywhere. I grab out my phone and shine the light at the figure, and my stomach drops when I see that it is not a doggie.
It's a bear.
What kind of bear, I'm not sure, but irregardless, I should run, right?
No, the voice in the back of my head says. I know it's flight, but depending on what kind of dog this is, depends on if you'll die or live in five minutes. Do your research.
My gut seems to agree, so without looking away from the bear, I turn on my cellular data and open up Safari. I type in 'types of bears and what happens if you see one.'
A bunch of pages pull up, and I take the risk of looking away. A certain headline that catches my attention pops up, and I see that it looks helpful: 'How to Survive a Bear Attack.'
I open the link, and see a diagram. There's two different bears, one black and a brownish one that's bigger with a bump in the middle of its shoulders.
I read over the article every few seconds, staring at the bear for the remaining. He doesn't seem to be afraid of me, which kinda scares me more, and that's not including the fact that he's stalking closer to me. "Blah, blah, blah, play dead with grizzlies. . . blah, blah, blah, be big and buff for black bears. . . dude, how am I supposed to know which is which?! It's pitch black outside and this article says grizzlies can be black too!" I mutter under my breath.
The bear growls again and I jump, trying to read faster even though it's extremely hard to focus on it and not the bear when he's about forty feet away.
In the end, I end up finding that grizzly bears are a lot bulkier, and have a big bump in the middle of their shoulders. I look at the bear warily, trying to figure out what type it is. I remember the McGibbon's saying something about only two breeds being in this area, which must be the grizzly and black bear because nothing else really showed up but those two.
Once I have confirmation by looking at his shoulders, I come to the conclusion that I need to drop dead.
I drop to the ground, placing my hands over my neck and tucking my head in between my legs.
The bear immediately notices and I hear his footsteps come closer.
I hold in my breath, my eyes stinging from tears that want to escape but I refuse to bat an eyelash.
When I feel his breath at my neck, I hold back a sob and try to be as still as possible.
Please go away, please go away, I keep chanting in my head. I don't believe in God and prayers, since that's just how I was raised, but I am praying my ass off for me to survive through this right now.
He strongly nudges me with his claw, strong enough to make my body shake and me wince and the fabric I'm currently wearing, tear. I whimper softly, and finally I hear steps disperse and peek out in between my fingers, to see the bear retreating.
The site said wait at least twenty minutes, since they have the habit of staying around to see if you're actually dead or not. You're probably dead if you get up earlier than that.
I wait a long time. I don't know how long; I've lost track, but it's gotten considerably cold outside since the confrontation and I attempt to get up but feel my back sting. Okay, he definitely is stronger than any doggie I've ever met. I groan, hunching over so I don't feel the pain as much. I walk back to the house cautiously, and finally sigh in relief when I reach the driveway.
I walk slowly down the driveway, and see the lights in the house still on. I sigh again when I see that everyone probably stayed up.
When I open the door, I see six McGibbon members, with worried, anxious, happy and blank faces when they see me.
Ella yet again rushes up to me. "Oh my God, dear, where have you been? We've been worried sick for hours."
Hours?
"Hours?" I voice my thoughts.
"Yes," she replies with confused eyes.
"What time is it?" I question. I told them I'd be coming back late, but I didn't think ten thirty was all that late.
"Midnight." One of the twins reply.
Wait, what? Damn it, I must have fallen asleep waiting.
"Oh God, I'm sorry," I cuss, "I. . . had aâow!âproblem."
Her eyes grow even more concerned. "Brooklyn? What is it, are you okay?"
"I could be worse," I huff. "I just ran into those big dogs you guys told me about."
Her face goes cold and pale. She freezes, and I look around awkwardly to see everyone else looking the same way she is.
It's like something snapped in them because immediately I'm lead to the couch and laid down.
"I'm okay, guys, really. . ." I trail off, but immediately hiss when my back touches my shirt. "Okay, so maybe he caught me by a pinch, but I'm alright, swear."
I catch Landon's eye, and I know it's Landon because he's right beside me. Louis and Liam and Lance are standing back behind the couch. Well, Lance is beside Landon. "Are you okay? Don't lie to me." Landon asks.
"I'm fine. He just pawed at me to see if I was moving. No harm done." I reply honestly.
"Stop with the foreignness!" I hear Louis mutter.
Landon looks over at his family when they give him a look that's demanding an explanation. I sometimes wonder if they hate how he and I can communicate through Spanish while they cannot.
"Grizzly." He tells them. "He was curious and caught her."
Ella sighs in relief and swings her hands. "Okay, Liam, Louis, go grab me a towel and the first aid kit. Your father and I will clear off the table while Landon and Lance help her up on it.
"Why the table?" I ask worriedly. What's wrong with the couch?
"It has more light. I can lay a blanket down for you if you'd like." He replies. I nod, eyes still a little wide, and when Thomas and Ella have it cleaned, Louis places the blanket down that he was handed and the two brothers lift me up. Landon has my arms and my torso, and Lance grabbed the front of my thighs.
"One, two, three!" Lance counts down, and at zero, they lift me swiftly and place me gently on the table. "Where were you hit?"
"Um. . . my back for sure. I don't know where else. I was all armadillo. Maybe my neck?"
They nod, and I sigh. I can't see, so I have no idea what's happening.
"Is she going to be okay?" I hear Louis ask. Wow, that's weird. He's asking if I'll be okay? I swear the kid hates me!
"She'll be fine. Why don't you two go to bed? It's late and you have school tomorrow." Ella orders, and they probably agree because I hear footsteps get quieter. "Speaking of school, you're staying home tomorrow."
"Butâ"
"No buts, Brooklyn." She says sternly. "Depending on how bad it is, you may be staying home the rest of the week."
"But I have somewhere I have to be!" I protest.
I can go to jail for missing therapy. Sure probably not over a single session, but the sessions will add up in time, and who knows how long I'll be seeing a shrink?
"And where's that?" Thomas asks.
"Uhh. . . Atticus'?"
"I'm sure you can skip a lesson or two." He shrugs. Not like I already have, I add in my head. He's legit so careless; Ella is so nice, how can she find love this is man? Sure he has good genes, but so far I think that's all he's got. He hasn't really been nice to me since I've been here, and that was just over a month ago. Louis I think has been nicer to me than that.
"Fine, whatever." I grumble. I feel something tug at my shirt, and I gasp when I hear they're scissors. "Hey!"
"Relax, I'll buy you a new one." I hear Lance say from somewhere. Sounds like he's to my left.
I shiver against the coldness of the house when Ella finally cuts through my tank top. It's black, so I don't know if it's bloody or not.
"It's worse than I thought," Ella sighs, and my eyes widen.
"What? What is she talking about?!" I exclaim.
"Hand me the alcohol." She says after.
"No! No alcohol! Not unless I'm drinking it." I protest, and move to get up, but I'm shoved back down. I turn my head far enough to see that Lance firmly has me pinned. "Hey! Get off me! I'm not doing this!"
"Either that, you go to the hospital," I can see him shrug.
"Over my dead body! Come on, it's just a little scratch!" I protest.
"A little scratch would be an understatement, and even if it was 'a little scratch', then we'd still need the alcohol to clean out the bacteria. Nobody knows where those claws have been." He tells me, and I growl out, turning my head back around.
"This sucks." I huff. I tug at Landon's pant leg, and he crouches down to my eye level. "I have a couple pain killers from when I broke my arm. Given that you've already snooped through my stuff and know where they are, can you grab me them?" I ask in a whisper. He looks pained at the mention of me calling out his crime, but nonetheless he nods and excuses himself to the bathroom.
About five minutes later, they've fully removed my clothes from my skin, which hurt like a goat ramming you in the back, and I ask for some water. "I got it." Landon says.
A few seconds pass and he's in front of me, kneeling. With a quiet argument forming between the two of us over how many I take, he finally gives in and pops two of the Tylenol 3's in my mouth, helping me sip the water. To the family, it should just look like he was helping me drink.
Ella applies the alcohol without telling me.
I never heard the alcohol swish, but it happened, because now it's burning my right shoulder and down to the end of my shoulder blades, and I'm screaming through the hand that Landon placed over my mouth. When I'm quiet enough that I won't wake anyone up, he removes it with a curt, "Sorry."
"I'm sorry," I hear Ella say softly after a few minutes. "There's still bubbles galore. I'm going to need to do it again."
I bite my lip, nodding, and when Landon places his hand over my mouth again, I shake it away. "I'll be fine. I wouldn't have been so loud if I was expecting it."
"Really?" He asks incredulously. "With most people it's the other way around."
I groan when the alcohol is poured again, and take huge huffs as it sizzles in my skin. "I'm not like most people." I choke out. "Shit this hurts."
"Okay, we're done." Ella says after a while. "You're all bandaged up. Keep it easy for the next few days, and it would probably be best if you didn't sleep on your back. Also, try not to get up a lotâ" She starts listing off, but stops suddenly. "Actually, no, you're on bed rest. No getting up at all unless you have to use the bathroom."
"I'm not growing filthy by laying in bed all day. I'll be getting up to shower." I tell her in an unarguable manner.
"That can be arranged." She answers, and helps me up off the table. I'm not lying when I say my back and all of my right shoulder is numb.
"I'm not having someone bathe me." I deadpan. I groan as I jump off the table, and walk back to my room. It's not easy walking with half of your back is numb. It's worse than walking on a leg that's fallen asleep and you feel like you're limbless but you're actually not.
"Here, let us help." Lance says, and I turn my head to see both boys on either side of me. I nod, and they help me up the stairs.
When we finally reach the room, I walk to the bed and kick out my safe. "You're dismissed." I groan out, using my hand to shoo them away. I hear their footsteps descend down the stairs and I sigh, throwing the towel off that was placed over my bra so the air hits the skin. It feels nice, even though I'm numbed up. I pull the safe out further and fall sideways on the bed, reaching out for the case. "Come on you stupid Latino, put your back into it!" I chant to myself, outstretching my good arm to touch it.
I scream when someone touches my arm and lifts the safe for me. "Whoops, didn't mean to scare you."
"Jesus Christ!" I say, my hand over my rapidly beating heart. "You scared the shit out of me!"
Landon looks at me sheepishly, "As I said, I'm sorry." His gaze then goes to my safe. "What are you grabbing?"
"It's none of your business," I say, wrapping a cardigan around me so my chest isn't exposed to him. I may be wearing a bra, but I mean come on, he's still a guy and probably all guys have boob fetishes.
"I know what you're hiding, remember?" He reminds me with a frown. It's finally come to me that he really wants to know what I'm hiding. Sure he knew about why I take the appetite suppressants, but he doesn't know that the appetite and antidepressants are linked together or why I took the anti-sadness pills.
"Yeah, I do." I whisper.
"What are you taking, Blue? Please tell me." He begs, and I sigh in defeat.
"The antidepressants." I murmur. I watch his face drop in sadness, and he walks over and sits down on my bed.
"Is there anything I can do?" He asks.
I wish there was, but there isn't. I'd ask him to not let me go to therapy; make up a lie that said I'd be paralyzed or something, but I even think my therapist would come here herself and have a session, and I don't want her knowing who I live with. She'd ask about my relationship with everyone, and probably extend our time because I'm not exactly having a blast here up in the mountains.
"Hand me my pills." I say sarcastically, and he rolls his eyes.
"Besides that, genius."
I frown when I realize that I'm bedridden, but still need to go to therapy tomorrow. "Yeah, actually," I say distantly. "I need you to drive me somewhere tomorrow. Can you do that for me?"
He nods euphorically, "Yeah, whatever you want. What time? If it's in the morning then I'll just ditch school."
I shake my head. "No, don't skip school for me. It's later in the afternoon, plenty of time after school ends."
"My parents work weekly until six at night, you know that right?" He smirks.
I roll my eyes. "I've been here a month, I obviously know that." I say sarcastically.
"Okay, okay," he chuckles, "but seriously. Dad and our receptionist have a meeting with the City in Parry Sound tomorrow, so they won't be home until late, but then they leave Friday morning to do weekend rides in Blue Mountain, and a wedding on Sunday. And don't think my mom can save your ass; she won't be home all weekend because she has a case she needs to do in Toronto. And that means that nobody is here to take care of you besides us boys, and even then I doubt they'll be of help, but you'll need it."
"Nonsense. I can take care of myself." I brush him off, even though that kinda worries me. I'm stuck here alone with five other boys for an entire weekend.
"Okay, prove it." He shrugs.
"Prove what?"
"That you can take care of yourself."
"How?"
"Reach over and pretend to put ointment and bandages on." He orders.
"Why?"
He laughs, which looks adorable, might I add. "Don't think you can keep those on all weekend! They'll need to be changed daily."
My jaw drops, but I try to do it anyway.
I can't.
"Okay, fine, I can't. So what?" I huff out in annoyance. I unlock my safe and grab out my antidepressants. I'm not hungry, so I leave the appetite ones in the case. Grabbing a bottle of water from the mini fridge, I gulp down the pills.
"Then it's settled. We'll be your babysitters." He grins.
"What?" I gasp out in utter shock. The boys barely even socialize with me as it is. Lucas and Landon are the only ones who willingly talk to me. Liam has to because he's my tutor. Though he offered and accepted, it still doesn't mean he enjoys my presence or acknowledges my existence. As for Lance, he only talks to me when he sees I'm with Atticus and argues with me about how he can't be trusted and all other excuses. "No, none of you would do that for me! That's ridiculous. Have you not met your family? They don't want anything to do with me, let alone take care of me with little scratches."
"Nonsense," Landon says. "Lance and I will no problem."
"Thanks, but no thanks. You two have school and that's top priority. You skip too much as it is."
Literally, I've been here a month and they've legit skipped at least fifteen times.
"I go along just fine, Blue." He says. "Just because I skip the classes doesn't mean I skip the work."
"I think it actually does though... I mean, you need to go to class to understand the work..."
"Nope," he pops the 'p', "every lesson is done on Google Classroom. I'm a nerd, Sweetheart, I just don't go to class."
I shudder at the new name. For some reason, it makes me feel bubbly even more than when Atticus does it. It makes my heart race.
"O-okay," I stammer. "But still, don't skip."
"I'm taking care of you tomorrow, Blue, end of story." He says in a non-arguable tone. I nod consecutively. His tone of voice kinda scared me. "Great!" He chirps. "I'll see you in the morning."
"Goodnight."
When Landon leaves, I put the safe back under my bed and jump into bed and under the covers, but not before taking the cardigan off. My back is still numb, but that's a good thing because I'll probably be asleep before I can feel again. Even so, I'm thanking Landon for getting me those Tylenol. It's going to be a long night.