The roar of the engine.
The laughter around me.
The vibrations beneath my seat.
Too loud.
Too much.
Uncomfortable, I placed my hands on my lap and focused on picking at the small sliver of skin hanging from my nail as the bus driver made his trek through town. Caoimhe called those pieces of skinupstartsand told me not to pick them or they would get worse, but that never stopped me.
Eyes trained on the wobbly piece of skin, I plucked and yanked at it until it gave way and tore off. When the stinging sensation started in my finger, I felt my shoulders relax. A small red dot appeared from the cut, the same color as the dots in my underwear earlier, and I watched in fascination as it slowly trickled down my finger.
Like a tiny river of blood, the voice whispered from the dark corner of my mind,you belong to the water, little bee.
Oh no.
No, no, no.
My body stiffened and I looked around in panic, wondering if anyone else had heard it. Nobody seemed to. They were all chatting and laughing with each other and not looking in my direction. The bus had stopped again, and some children were getting off while even more were getting on.
All boys this time.
Loud, noisy boys.
Panicking, I pulled my sleeves down, hiding my fingers under the fabric of my school jumper. Because I wanted to keep picking. I wanted to scratch and tear and peel my skin offbecause it made me feel calm. But I wasn’t supposed to do that anymore. Because it was bad. The doctors said so.
So I used my sleeves to hide my hands from my eyes.
From my mind.
Because Iwantedto be a good girl.
Like Mark promised I would be.
“Yay! You did it!”
My head snapped up when I heard Claire’s excited squeal, and I spotted her talking to one of the older boys who had just gotten on. She was talking excitedly to the boy, but I wasn’t so sure he was listening to her because he had headphones over his ears. The really cool ones with the metal headband, like Caoimhe got last Christmas. The headphones were attached to a black lead that connected to the silver Walkman in his other hand.
“You are the best big brother ever!” she continued to squeal, clapping her hands together. The twins were both kneeling up on their seats, too, but I couldn’t tell them apart this time because they were both blushing.
“This is Marybeth,” Claire told her brother, pointing to the twin next to her before pointing to the one in front. “And this is Cadence.”
When her brother held an envelope out to them, the twins beamed up at him before both diving for it at the same time.
It quickly became a tugging match between the sisters, and I zoned out, focusing on Claire’s big brother instead. I knew she had one, I even knew his name—Hugh—but Claire told us he was stinky and looked like the troll on the cover of storybookThe Three Billy Goats Gruff.
Claire told a lie.
Her brother didnotlook like the troll.
He was wearing a dark green jumper with the Scoil Eoin crest on it and gray school trousers, and he was tall. Like super tall. He had blond hair like his sister, but his hair was a darker shadeand cut tight at the back and sides, leaving a messy mop of wavy curls on top.
“That’s Lizzie,” Claire announced then, pointing in my direction as the bus pulled off again. “She’s right over there, see?”
Claire’s brother looked my way then, and I felt a sudden wave of warmth flush through my body. Not the angry warm feeling or the scary warm one that happened at nighttime. No, this was adifferentkind of warm. Like the warm I felt when I saw Shannon’s brother at school. Exceptnicer.
So much nicer.
