It Happened Last Year

“Remember, the test over Lord of the Flies will be Friday. Fall break is over, people, let’s get back into the routine,” Mrs. Hilliard calls to us as we exit the classroom. “Remember, if you haven’t turned in your Chapter Twelve analysis. . .”

Her voice fades as I wander out the door and down the hallway. Everyone seems miserable today, all hoping for one more day of fall break. It is always hard to come back after a week of relaxation.

The principals muffled voice sounds above us, rambling about Homecoming, the next football game, college visits, and other events I would love to forget about. Being in the school is enough for me already. I could live without the stares and whispers. You’d think after an entire quarter that people would get over the fact that I am indeed back in Coldgrove.

Suddenly someone roughly grabs my arm, yanking me to the side, into a room. It is all one blur in front of me. Once inside, they let go and the door shuts. I immediately look up, not expecting to see Harrison standing in front of the door. Panic sets in heavily. He’s blocking the way out. He’s going to hurt me. Should I scream? Should I cry? Should I fight him?

“Calm down, Hailey,” he says while locking the door. My eyes shoot to the lock, remember what happened the last time I was in a locked room with him. “I’m not going to hurt you. I just want to talk.”

I shake my head. “I-I’m going to scream.”

He crosses his arms. “Would you relax?”

“No!” I shout at him. “Get away from me! You c-can’t lock me in a room.”

“Just listen,” he says harshly. “All of these rumors are hurting my reputation. I can’t have it anymore-”Text © by N0ve/lDrama.Org.

“It’s the truth!”

Harrison clenches his jaw, visibly angry. “I can’t have it,” he repeats. “You’re going to say that it was all a lie, and I’m going to support you. I’ll forgive you and so will everyone else. You can finally live here without the staring and without the entire town hating you.”

I swallow. “I want to leave.”

Harrison peers to the side for a moment. “Think about it.”

He then unlocks the door, releasing me.

I rush down the hall, my heart racing, my throat closing up, sweating. I want to leave. I need to get out of here. My hands ball up into fists, my nails digging into my palms.

Hurrying through the front doors, I jog to my car, fumbling with the zipper of my backpack so I can get my keys. I reach my car and dig around in the bag, not finding them. The need to scream rises up in me. Where are the damn keys? I just want to get out!

I throw my bag to the ground, leaning against my car. Like a five-year-old child, I want to throw a fit, kicking and crying. It’s not fair!

“Do you usually try and leave at this time?”

Already knowing who it is, I look up, not caring how I may come off anymore. Pretending to be normal is tiring, and for some reason, Daniel doesn’t seem to fall for it. He has his track bag slung over his shoulder, he must have gotten it from his car like last time.

I bend down and begin searching through my bag again. “Yeah, I do.”

I find my keys and press the unlock button, but before I can get in the car, Daniel swipes them from me. “You’re not driving,” he says, my keys trapped in his hand.

“Who do you think you are?”

“You’re not driving like this,” he says, “you’re going to get somebody killed.”

I clench my jaw. “You can’t just take my keys.”

Suddenly he begins to walk off, not before pressing the ‘lock’ button. I stand speechless for a second then follow after him with my backpack. “Are you leaving because of him?” Daniel asks.

“Stop asking me questions.”

“Did he hurt you?”

I stop and grab his arm, causing him to turn around. “Why the hell do you care?”

“Because I know guys like him,” he says intensely, “A guy like him abused my sister for two years. They think they can get away with anything because of Daddy’s position.”

I take in a deep breath. His sister was in an abusive relationship? “Where are you going?”

“I’m going to find this piece of shit.”

Swiftly, I hurry in front of him, bringing Daniel to a halt again. “No. Don’t. You’re not helping me.”

Daniel steps back. “You’re just going to let him push you around?”

I struggle to find the right words. “I-It’s not like that.”

“So you’re telling me that he’s never hurt you?”

I stare up at Daniel, overwhelmed. What am I supposed to say? “I-I. . . You don’t understand. It’s more complicated than that.”

He shakes his head. “No. It’s simple. Harrison hurt you, or he didn’t.”

“I just-I just want to go home.”

Daniel continues on towards the building. “Don’t worry. I’m going to the locker room.”

“What about my keys!” I call to him.

“You can have them after school.”

With my backpack hanging off my arm, I watch as he walks away, leaving me in the parking lot. Did I really just let him leave with my keys? Frustrated, I groan and stomp my foot, glaring up at the sky before trudging to my next class. The bell is about to ring, I’m going to be late.

At lunch, I wait for Daniel to come through the cafeteria doors so I can argue for my keys, but he hasn’t shown up. Where could he be?

I turn to Jana. “Where’s Daniel?”

“Why?”

“If you know, just tell me.”

Jana raises an eyebrow. “Why?”

“He took my keys when I tried to leave earlier.”

“Excuse me. He took your keys and you didn’t tell me? This is a huge step on the pathway to your relationship,” she says, annoyed. “Friends tell each other these things-but. . . Why did he take them? Did you try and leave recklessly again?”

I roll my eyes. “I’m just going to assume that you don’t know where he is. Do you know where Jordan is? Maybe he knows.”

“He’s talking to Bradley, but don’t think you’re getting out of this one. We’re talking about this later.” Jana points across the cafeteria at Harrison’s table.

Daphne, Harrison, Bradley-all at one table surrounded by loyal friends. Jordan is standing next to Bradley, talking casually. He doesn’t seem interested in conversing with anyone else, though. I need my keys, I need to get out of this place, but am I willing to stand in front of Harrison after what happened?

He told me to think about it.

He wants me to help him, and if I do, he’ll make the staring and whispering stop.

Am I willing to do that?