Chapter 17: Fifteen - Covered Up

Covered Up

October:

I frowned at the exact replica of myself that stared back at me from the mirror as I tried to tame the unruly knots in my hair.

No.  Scratch that. The girl staring back at me wasn’t an exact replica of myself. The other girl didn’t seem to be wincing in pain like I was.

Biting down on my bottom lip, I pulled the sleeves of my slightly-baggy, ugly, olive-green sweater down to cover up my handiwork from last night. Since the sweater was a little large, the sleeves ended about an inch past my finger-tips, well and truly concealing the somewhat-swollen, dark pink scratch marks on my forearm.

I glanced at the window, where fat drops of water were pelting against the glass, thankful for the unexpected change in weather. The heavy rain meant that it was cold enough inside the institute that my choice of clothing would not be questioned.

If it hadn’t been raining, every single person in the house would have wondered if I was insane to be wearing a sweater like this in the middle of August.

Maybe it was a good thing I was in a mental institute, huh?

Smiling wryly at my reflection, I replaced my hairbrush on my dresser and pulled my hair up into a high ponytail.

“Okay, this sucks.”

I turned around to find Kara walking into the room, her head thrown back in frustration. Actually, it looked more like she was dragging herself into the room rather than just walking.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

“Have you taken a look out the window?” She moaned, collapsing face-first onto her bright yellow bedspread. “It’s like we’ve been tossed into a washing machine or something.”

I rolled my eyes. “It’s not that bad. I actually think it looks pretty nice today.”

I wasn’t lying.

Kara’s and my room window looked directly out onto the large, yawning stretch of unoccupied land just beyond the institute’s property line. Large spruce trees, fresh green grass and beautiful wild flowers covered almost every inch of the land, making the entire scene look like a painting in an art gallery. And with the grey storm clouds overhead casting a slight tint across the scene, it was definitely something Kara could have turned into a masterpiece –  if she could just get over her hatred of rain long enough for her to paint it.

“Whatever.” Kara snapped into her bedspread, kicking her legs in the air and flopping back down again. “Just make it stop.”

“It may come as a surprise to you, Kara” I crossed to room and headed over to the door, guided by the sounds of rumbling emitting from my empty stomach, “but I don’t control the weather.”

She grumbled something unintelligible into her duvet. Shaking my head, I exited the room eager to get downstairs and eat something before my session with Darren.

I bounded down the stairs and into the large, bright dining room and my eyes flew open when the smell of maple syrup hit my nose. Confused, I cautiously stepped closer to the table, where Sid was standing behind an empty seat at the head of the table, staring at the food in bewilderment.

“Is that what I think it is…?” I whispered excitedly as Sid looked up to grin at me.

“Uh-huh.” He nodded animatedly. “Waffles and pancakes!”

“Oh. My. God.” I scuttled over to stand beside him and gape at the table which was laden with plates and plates of pancakes and waffles; bowls of fruit, nuts and chocolate sauce and jars of chocolate spread and jam. Gaping, I turned to Sid and asked, “Who’s dying?”

“Me, if I gorge myself the way I’m planning to.” He answered cheekily, pulling out the chair in front of him and taking a seat.

Laughing, I sat down on his right side, my back to the door.

“You’re up early today.” He observed as he piled stacks of pancakes onto his plate and slathered them with spoonfuls of chocolate sauce.

“Yeah,” I nodded, scattering fruit all over the top of my waffles. “My sessions with Dar – Dr. Michelson start at eight-thirty and I didn’t want to miss breakfast…”

I trailed off, shoving a forkful of food into my mouth and chewing quickly.

“I hate to be the one to tell you this, October,” Sid chuckled around his food, “but you could have slept in a little longer.”

“What do you mean?” I asked, swallowing. I reached out pulled the bowl of chocolate sauce away from Sid, drizzling a small spoonful of the delicious chocolaty goodness over the fruit decorating my waffles.

“Well,” he said, stabbing a strawberry on my plate with his fork, “Dr. Michelson isn’t here.”

“Not here?” I asked, slightly annoyed over the fact that I’d woken up so early in vain.

“Nope.” He tried to steal a slice of kiwi from my plate, and I slapped his hand away. I liked kiwis. Grinning, he continued, “He had to run some kind of errand, and he told Patty to inform you that he was moving your session to noon.”

Gaping, I dropped my fork and knife onto my plate, my expression obviously forlorn.

“Aw, don’t look at me like that, October.” He groaned, dropping his own knife ad shielding his eyes with his free hand. “It’s not my fault.”

Rolling my eyes, I picked up my fork and stabbed at a slice of banana. “I know… But I wish I’d known about this sooner. I could have used the extra sleep!”

The second the words left my mouth, a wave of regret washed over me. Damn it. The look on Sid’s face told me that he was about to ask me why I needed the extra sleep. I didn’t want to lie to him, but I also didn’t want to tell him about what I’d done.

Frowning suspiciously, Sid swallowed his food and opened his mouth to undoubtedly question me. I heaved a mental sigh of relief when the words died on Sid’s lips as his eyes focused on something behind me.

“Here comes Feltman.” Sid mouthed, raising his eyebrows at, what I assumed was, the boy behind my back. “Hey, I don’t know on what terms you two are on, but is it okay if I—”

“No, no. Go ahead.” I cut him off, understanding what he meant as I stabbed pierced a slice of kiwi with my fork and bit into it. “Call him over.”

“You don’t mind?” Sid asked, his eyebrows still raised – in confusion now.

I almost laughed out loud. Did I mind? Of course not! Parish may have been a first class jerk to me when we first met, but after everything he’d done for me last night, I honestly couldn’t bring myself to hate him even if I tried. He’d seen my scratches, cleaned my wounds and not judged me even once. And I appreciated that more than words could say.

So, no. I didn’t mind.

Which is exactly why I told Sid, “No. It’s cool. Call him over.”

Smiling at what he assumed was a very random change of heart towards our fellow housemate, Sid looked away from my face and shifted his attention to Parish, who was making his way, sleepily, over to the table.

“Yo, Parish!” Sid called out happily, causing Parish to jump, slightly started at the sudden noise in the room. “Grab a plate and come sit with us.”

Uncertainty flashed across his features as Parish silently debated whether or not to take Sid up on his offer. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Parish give me a searching look. One that clearly asked, “Am I welcome?”

I smiled in answer, and after a second’s hesitation, Parish picked up a plate from the trolley against the wall and made his way over to the empty seat on Sid’s left, directly opposite from where I sat.

“You sure you don’t mind me sitting with you two?” Parish asked Sid quietly, staring at the unoccupied chair questioningly.

“Wouldn’t have invited you if we did.” Sid replied flippantly as he reached, once again, for a slice of fruit on my plate. I pulled my plate away quickly, sticking my tongue out mockingly. “Why do you look like a bear that’s late for hibernation?”

I snorted, almost choking on the swig of orange juice I’d just taken.

“I don’t know.” Parish answered Sid, raising an eyebrow at me. He’d heard the snort. Damn. “I just couldn’t sleep much last night…”

He trailed off, sliding three waffles onto his plate.

“You too? How come?”

“I don’t know. Just restless, I guess.” He answered, stifling a yawn. “What do you mean ‘You too’?”

“October didn’t get much sleep last night, either.” Sid explained, passing the bottle of maple syrup to Parish. “Why didn’t you sleep last night, by the way October? I was about to ask you when Parish showed up.”

Dammit. I bit my lip in frustration. Now I’d have to think of a lie. “I, um… I don’t think I’m really used to this medication yet. I keep falling in and out of sleep, and sometimes it kind of gives me nightmares.”

I made sure I’d kept my tone light and calm so as to avoid any more questions from Sid. His eyes roved around my face, searching for any signs that I might have been lying. After a second, he nodded, accepting the story.

Parish, on the other hand, knew better than to believe the fib. His chocolaty brown eyes regarded me carefully over the fork in his hand. When I looked up to meet his gaze, he glanced pointedly at the sleeves of my green sweater, one question burning clearly in his eyes.

Are you okay?

Smirking, I shoveled more fruit in my mouth and nodded at him, a little amused at the fact that Sid seemed to be oblivious to our silent conversation.

Understanding what my message, Parish grinned and turned his full attention to his food.

The three of us ate in silence after that, only interrupted when Bethany, in one of her usual moods, stomped angrily into the dining room.

“Ugh.” She scoffed when she noticed the three of us eating together. “Jesus, Parish. Why are you sitting with those losers? Come sit with me.”

“I think I’ll pass.” He didn’t even take his eyes of his plate.

“Aw,” she pouted, batting her thick, long lashes at him. Though, I really didn’t see the point. The guy wasn’t even looking at her. “You don’t mean that.”

“I’m pretty sure he does, Bethany.” Sid retorted, taking a sip of coffee.

“Mind your own business Witherberry!” She snapped angrily. “I wasn’t talking to you.”

Sid merely rolled his eyes. “Suit yourself. I was just trying to save you from humiliation, but whatever.”

Bethany ignored him. “So, what do you say, Parish? Sit with me?”

“I think I already answered that question.”

Sid chuckled, leaning towards Parish to whisper, “That’s normal with her. It usually takes about three times for the message to sink in.”

Bethany heard him.

Turning a hundred shades of red, she whirled on Sid and hissed, “I thought I told you to shut the hell up.”

I couldn’t take it anymore. Laying my fork and knife down gently, I looked up at Bethany and smiled sweetly.

“I don’t know if you noticed, Bethany, but the three of us are trying to eat here. And if your mere presence wasn’t bad enough, we’ve got to tolerate your annoying high-pitched voice at, what, seven in the morning? And in addition to causing a serious loss of appetite, I’ve haven’t taken my meds yet, so I’m really not in a good mood right now.” I gave her a concerned look before adding, “you heard the news, right? About me being Schizo?”

She nodded.

“Excellent.” I pulled the sweet smile back on. “So, anyway, I don’t know if Dr. Larkson warned you, but apparently pissing me off when I haven’t taken my meds isn’t wise – on  account of me being so mentally unstable and all that jazz – so unless you woke up with the urge to get stabbed in the throat with a fork, I suggest that you shut the hell up and let us eat in peace. Okay? Buh-bye.”

Blue eyes flashing in alarm, Bethany backed away from the table, putting as much distance between us as soon as she could. I held her gaze, still smiling at her in that sickening sweet way. It was taking all the will in my body to keep me from bursting into laughter at the horrified look on her face.

Trust Bethany to take what I’d said seriously.

Honestly. You’d think she’d be a little bit less gullible.

Once she finally backed out of the room, thoughts of breakfast clearly out of her mind, Parish and Sid burst into laughter.

“That,” Sid said, patting me on the back with pride, “was awesome.”

“Seriously.” Parish agreed, nodding enthusiastically. “I never really pegged you as type to verbally bitch-slap anyone.”

I laughed at that one. “Well, let’s just say that when someone gets on my nerves, I don’t hesitate to let them know.”

For a moment, Parish looked confused as he sensed that there was meaning behind my words, and I wondered whether he'd get the reference. A second later, comprehension dawned in his eyes as he remembered the night we met. Chuckling, he smirked at me, “I’ll bet you do.”

Done with breakfast, the three of us stood up and headed to the kitchen where we were to rinse our plates and glasses and leave them to dry on the draining board beside the sink. I had just only finished washing my plates when the kitchen door slammed open, and a dripping wet Darren dashed inside.

“October!” He called happily over the large pot of flowers he was carrying. Orchids. Purple ones. “I’m so glad I found you! Can you help me carry these up to my office? We can get a jump start on our session directly afterwards that way.”

“I thought you’d moved our session to noon?” I asked, reaching out to take the large pot from him.

“Yes,” he called as he went back to the kitchen door to retrieve another, slightly larger, pot he’d left by the door. “But my errands didn’t take as long as I expected them to, so we can start at our usual time.”

“Oh. Okay.” I said, unable to think of anything else to add.

Stopping short, Darren glanced down at me, surveying me from head to toe, curiously.

“Are you cold?” He suddenly asked.

“What?”

Besides me, Sid and Parish looked equally confused.

Darren smiled. “The sweater. Are you cold?”

“Oh this?” I looked down at myself, feeling as though a light had just switched on in my head as I realized what he was talking about. “Um, yeah… The rain, you know.”

I snuck a glance in Parish’s direction, glad to find his face devoid of anything that could have made Darren think I was lying. The boy had a good poke face.

“Oh, yeah.” Darren nodded, making his way out of the kitchen. I followed, waving goodbye to Sid and Parish. “I guess it is a little cold today.”

“Uh-huh” I agreed, following my therapist up the stairs, praying that the rainy weather would continue for a few more days until my wounds healed.

Otherwise, I’d have a lot of explaining to do…