"Jade."
A hand gently shakes my shoulder, dragging me from a dreamless sleep. I whine quietly, a bit like a dog, and roll away from the hand.
I'm tired. Go away.
"Jade. Wake up." This time I recognise the voice, my eyes snapping open to stare at the grey sofa cushions. I quickly roll back over, being careful not to fall onto the floor, and stare at Lucas. He crouches down next to the sofa, sitting back on his heels. His eyes scan over my forehead quickly and I frown in confusion, glancing around for a clock.
"Is it morning already?" I croak, my voice sleepy, when I give up on the search.
"No," he shakes his head, voice quiet. "I just wanted to see how your concussion is doing."
"Oh," I reply, more than a little surprised. He looks tired, not even bothering to hide the fact from me as his eyelids droop slightly. He blinks them fully open again. "I'm fine. It's only mild." He doesn't look convinced so I tag on the end, "the room's barely spinning anymore."
"It shouldn't be spinning at all," he says, frowning.
"Oh," I mumble, snuggling into the sofa as I prepare to go back to sleep. "You mean the world doesn't really turn? Huh. Guess someone should let the Sciencey peeps know."
It's probably a really lame attempt at a joke but I'm too tired to care.
I hear a chuckle that almost â almost â makes me want to keep my eyes open.
"Open your eyes," he instructs, shaking my shoulder again. I sigh out a protest but do as he says. He looks a tad worried but I'm most likely just hallucinating it in my exhausted and mildly-concussed state. "Do you still have a headache?"
"Small one," I mumble.
"Don't go back to sleep," he says, standing up and leaving the room.
I, of course, don't listen, letting my eyes flutter closed the second he's out of sight. He isn't gone long, though, and so I force them open again when I hear his footsteps.
"Here," he says, holding out a glass of water and box of painkillers.
"I really am fine," I tell him, sitting up to take the tablets anyway in the hopes of him letting me go back to sleep. He still doesn't seem convinced, looking at me as if expecting my head to roll off my shoulders at any second, my neck be damned.
I decide to humour him.
"Would it make you feel better if I let you ask some mandatory concussion tester questions? It'll prove that my brain's not fried." I take his silence as a yes and shrug. "Ask away."
"What's your name?" he asks. I roll my eyes a little despite being the one to offer to do this in the first place.
"Jade Taylor."
"When's your birthday?"
"September fifth."
"How old are you?"
"Eighteen."
"What town do you live in?"
"Greencliff." I interrupt before he can ask anything else. "See? My brain's fully intact."
He sighs but nods. "Okay," he agrees. "I guess I can let you go back to sleep."
Halle-fricking-lujah.
I close my eyes and hear the door click shut behind him, falling back to sleep...
... for about, I'm going to guess, one maybe two hours.
"Jade." It's Lucas again. "Wake up."
Oh, this dude thinks he's a real jokester, I swear to God.
"What?" I mutter, my eyes feeling like sandpaper as I squint them open.
Please, get the hell out of your own living room and let me dream sweet dreams.
"What's your name?" he asks.
"Are you being serious?" I ask him grumpily.
"Yes."
"You just said my name," I point out.
"I'm not leaving until you answer the question."
Well, in that case...
"Jade Taylor," I sigh.
"When's your birthday?"
"Still September fifth, last I checked."
"How old are you?"
"A few hours older than when you last asked."
He rolls his eyes. "What town do you live in?"
"The same one as you."
"Do you still have a headache?"
"Not really."
"Is the room still spinning?"
"Not really. Can I go back to sleep now?"
He studies me for a moment before sighing and nodding, making his way out of the room. He pauses to look back at me briefly as he stands in the doorway before pulling the door closed behind him.
I'm asleep within a matter of seconds.
And in a matter of hours he's back again.
"Jade."
I crack an eye open, fully aware that my expression is telling him to not-so-politely fuck right off.
"What's your name?" he asks, completely unaffected by the death threats my eyes are yelling at him.
"What's your name?" I retaliate, opening both eyes. His lips quirk and this time he decides to humour me.
"Lucas Coleman."
"How old are you?"
"Twenty-one."
"When's your birthday?"
"April fourteenth."
"What town do you live in?"
"A shit one."
I snort a laugh, deciding to spare him his life because that, indeed, amused me. "You can say that again."
"I could," he says, "but I think I'll let you sleep instead."
"You mean it this time?" I ask, already closing my eyes.
"Yeah," he promises. "I'm pretty sure you're not going to drop dead on my sofa."
"Fingers crossed," I mumble tiredly.
"You want any more painkillers before I go to sleep?" he offers, but it's the last part of his question that catches my attention.
"You haven't slept yet?" I ask.
"I can get you some if your head hurts," he continues, ignoring my question.
"Nah, I'm okay," I reply, pulling the blanket up to my chin. "You go get some shut-eye."
I'm asleep before he's even left the room and, this time, he lets me sleep.
***
Breakfast at the Coleman's residence is very â well â normal.
Finn offers to make me some toast (which is about the only thing he's capable of making, according to Bradley) and Andrew gives up his stool at the counter so I can sit down. I protest a little but he claims he doesn't mind standing, saying that the potentially concussed takes priority over his lazy-ass self. I don't argue after that. My headache is coming back for revenge and I really would rather sit down.
"I hear you split Salazar's face like the red sea last night, Moses," Bradley says as I take the seat next to him. Finn places my toast down in front of me and returns to his own seat, leaving Andrew to lean against the counter.
"I hope you broke the fucker's nose," Finn speaks up, shaking his head.
I'm not entirely sure what to reply to that so I just smile awkwardly and bite into my toast, eyes turning to Lucas as he enters the room. Our eyes meet briefly before he looks away and makes his way over to the kettle, filling it at the tap and setting it to boil. He looks tired.
Apparently, I'm not the only one who notices.
"Wow, you look like shit," Finn tells him cheerily, completely unbothered by the glare his brother retaliates with. "I wonder who kept you up last night."
Finn winks at me and I pretend not to catch the insinuation, stuffing my face with more toast so I'm not forced to comment.
"Don't make me punch you this early in the morning," Lucas grumbles in response.
"Okay, firstly," Finn says, holding his hands up in mock surrender. "It's nine, so not that early. Secondly, I'm joking, so lighten up."
"Luke doesn't joke before coffee," Alex says as he stumbles into the room, running a hand through his hair and making it stick up slightly.
Looking at the stoic expression on the eldest Coleman's face, I find it difficult to believe he jokes at all.
Alex continued. "Speaking of, where's mine at?"
Lucas rolls his eyes as the kettle finishes boiling, grabbing two mugs down from the cupboard at the end.
"Anyone else want one?" he asks.
We all do.
He grabs four more mugs.
"How do you take yours?" he asks me, looking at me and then back at the mug in front of him.
"With milk," I reply, watching as he makes mine and hands it over. "Thanks."
I watch quietly as the others all make theirs, noting the scoop of sugar that Lucas adds to his own. Andrew adds two, Finn adding a splash of milk and Bradley has both. Alex, the one I haven't served, is the only one that takes his plain. I raise my eyebrows a little and take a sip of my own coffee, not commenting on the new discovery.
Once I've finished my toast and drank my coffee, Lucas offers to drive me home. I decide it's time to face the music and nod my agreement, knowing that there's no point trying to put off the inevitable. The longer I stay away from the house, the angrier Stella and George will be.
I stand up and grab my phone, already dressed and ready to leave. It was the first thing I did when I woke up, changing back into my torn T-shirt and jeans and leaving Bradley's clothes folded neatly on the sofa with the blanket and pillow. The T-shirt is ruined but I managed to tie the tear together enough to hide the part of my tummy that I don't want on show. I can only hope for the chance to get changed before Stella or George notice the state it's in.
I quickly unlock my phone screen to find a number of texts waiting for me. There are two from Stella, pouring out her disapproval of my last minute arrangements, one from Megan, asking if I'm free to hang out this weekend now that she's finished her exams, and one from Dylan, asking me if I want to go present shopping today.
It's Bailey's birthday in a few weeks and I have no idea what to get her. She usually hates every gift I give her but he's offered to help me choose this time, after hearing me stress about it the last time we met up.
I smile as I quickly type out a reply to him, deciding to message Megan later and completely ignoring Stella's because, let's face it, I'm going to be hearing it all in person in less than an hour anyway.
"Try not to sucker punch any more yobs before you get home," Finn teases me whilst Lucas stuffs his feet into some trainers. He doesn't bother to get changed out of the sweatpants and T-shirt I assume he slept in, just donning the shoes and a leather jacket. He grabs a set of keys from the top of the microwave in a way that tells me he's ready to go.
"Can't make any promises," I reply, making Finn laugh, Bradley chuckle and even Andrew smirk behind his coffee. I send them all a small wave before following Lucas out to the car.
I climb into the passenger seat of the silver car, immediately catching my own eye in the wing mirror next to me. I wince. The bump has gone down considerably well, thanks to the wonders of frozen packaged vegetables, but the bruising is still inky and far too noticeable. I cross my fingers and my toes in the hopes that some makeup and a change in hairstyle will be enough to hide the evidence.
"Do you mind if we make a quick stop?" I ask as Lucas starts up the car. "I should probably get something to cover this mess up before going home."
He nods and reverses out of the garage. "Good call," he mutters.
The drive to the shop is a quiet one, save for the sound of the radio buzzing away in the background, announcing the week's chart hits. Lucas doesn't speak and I don't know what to say so I just sit and resign myself to the awkward silence.
Did last night even happen?
I was starting to think not. I was starting to think I may have dreamt the whole conversation.
When he pulls into a parking space of the local supermarket, I quickly jump out the car, telling him I'll be as quick as I can. I let out a breath of relief as I walk away from the car's tense atmosphere, making my way into the store and finding my way to the makeup section with no difficulty at all.
This early in the day the place is as good as dead, the only people around that don't work here being customers smart enough to figure out that this is the time to shop to avoid all the foot traffic.
I pick out what I need and haul ass, ignoring the odd look I receive from the cashier lady as I pay for the stuff. She's obviously seen the bruising but doesn't have the gall to ask me about it. I don't offer an explanation, it has nothing to do with her, and instead just thank her before heading back out to the car park. I don't want to keep Lucas waiting a second longer than necessary. There's a small part of me worried that he might get bored and drive off.
Once I'm back in the car I set to work on covering the bruising, using the mirror on the inside of the visor to guide me in my work. It's not as easy as they make it look on TV, let me tell you, but eventually I'm somewhat satisfied with what I achieve. I put the bottle of foundation in my lap and quickly alter the parting in my hair, guiding my hair to cover the damaged side of my face more.
"How noticeable is it?" I ask Lucas, wanting a second opinion in case my hopefulness is overshadowing reality.
"Looks good," he says after a small pause, restarting the car. "Just keep your hair like that for a couple of days."
I nod and relax back in my seat a little, praying that Stella is too angry about my disappearing act to look too closely at my face.
Once again, we drive in silence.
When we finally arrive outside my house my eyes zone in on the small red car parked in the driveway. I instantly recognise the car, and the little cat bumper sticker on the back of it.
"Well, shit," I say, the words escaping before I can reign them in.
I'd forgotten that Karen was due a visit.
Thank God I decided to stop off at the shop.
I don't even want to think about the reaction I'd have now if I rocked up with my forehead misfortune fully on display.
"Whose car is that?" Lucas asks, following my line of sight.
"Social worker's," I mumble absentmindedly, watching the house for any signs of an impending explosion. Bailey and Karen being under the same roof never ends well for anyone.
I realise a heartbeat too late that I've said too much, glancing over at Lucas. If he's surprised he hides it, so kudos to him for that.
I hate seeing people's reactions when they find out I'm a care kid. There's a range of reactions, I'll admit â surprised, curious, pitying â but they all ultimately suck as bad as each other. Dylan had been one of the curious ones, asking a couple of times about my past but soon coming to the realisation that I don't like talking about it. Megan was a pity person, even now treading on eggshells when my home situation is brought up.
Please don't ask.
He doesn't.
I clear my throat awkwardly, preparing to thank him for the lift and bail out, but the sound of shouting catches my attention. I look back as I hear the slam of the front door, seeing Bailey storm away from the house. She looks angry â really angry.
The front door opens again, revealing a short woman with a blonde bob calling after Bailey. She looks beyond exasperated at the problem child.
Karen.
Please don't see me, please don't see me, please don't see me-
I quickly reach for the door handle, hoping Bailey will cause enough of a distraction that Karen won't notice me gallivanting around with the king of crime. If I leave it much longer, there's no way she won't see.
"Crap. You should go. Thanks for the lift," I say quickly, clambering out of the car to hear the end of Bailey's screeched protest.
"âyou never made Jade answer all these shitty questions!"
"I'm not making you do anything, Bailey," Karen replies with the patience of a saint. She manages to keep her voice calm, her frustration hidden. "You're not obligated to answer."
I don't envy her job, I really don't.
"Then why do you keep asking?" Bailey yells back.
"I have to," Karen sighs. "Your wellbeing is my top priority and, clearly, there's something eating at you."
"You don't know the first thing about me!"
"Let's just go back inside, okay?"
"I'm not going back in there until you fuck off home!"
"Bailey!" I snap, appalled. Karen finally notices me, a mixture of surprise and relief crossing her features. I glance behind me, relieved to see Lucas has driven off. I think I got away with it.
"Oh, hi Jade," Karen greets as if this isn't completely out of the norm. Let's face it, it's not really.
"Hey," I reply, not missing the glare Bailey is spearing me with.
What have I done now?
Bailey continues to walk away, heading for the pavement and making her way down the road. Karen sighs and follows her, calling after her to stop. I decide to make my way into the house, leaving them to it. Right now I've got bigger fish to fry. I close the door behind me, taking a deep breath and heading off in search for Stella and George.
Better get this over with.
*********