Chapter Five
Jules
This is the moment– I can feel it.
It’s the moment everything changes, and I’m helpless to stop it. I know I will forever remember this day whenever I lay eyes on him. My whole world stops turning, as my heart shrinks inside my chest.
He walks through the school gates just like he does any other day; his backpack slung over his shoulder and a look on his face that simply says, ‘I don’t care.’
It’s not that Zander is unapproachable– even if he wasn’t my best friend, I wouldn’t feel uncomfortable striking up a conversation with him.
Zander just doesn’t care for people’s opinions of him.
He never concerns himself with others’ thoughts, not about how he behaves, who he spends his time with, or how he presents himself– even now, with one eye swollen shut and dark with bruising.
He strides over, confident as always, and stops directly in front of me.
I can’t speak.
I can’t take my eyes off his face.
All I can do is stand here, searching his battered complexion for answers.
The dark, crescent-shaped bruise cradling his eye is like a portal into the past. The colour transports me back to when we were ten years old.
It’s the same shade as the midnight sky we once looked up to.
It was the first time we had dared to stay up past our bedtime, and we spent what felt like hours trying to count the stars that sparkled against the endless stretch of indigo.
But there were no stars lighting up Zander’s eyes now– just bottomless pits of muddy brown.
“Jules?” He looked at me as if I was the one behaving abnormally; his eyebrows scrunched together, waiting for my response. I can’t help but gawk at him, my mouth drying out as it hangs open. He looks away and rubs the back of his neck awkwardly.
“I was rushing down the corridor yesterday when the bell sounded. Didn’t see the locker door open until it hit me square in the face,” he shrugs, trying to play off the state of his face with an eye roll.
I didn’t ask, but his need to explain anyway has my stomach churning.
“Anyway, it looks like I should be the one worried about you. Where’s my morning smile? ”
“You’re lying,” I whisper under my breath.
“What?”
“You’re lying to me,” I force past the nerves, more confidently this time. I meet his eyes, summoning the bravery he shows so effortlessly.
“Jules, I–”
“You said you would ask me.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You said you would ask me if you ever needed something. Why didn’t you?
” I can’t hide the way my voice cracks. I can tell Zander heard it too; his face looks pained, almost like it split him right down the middle.
This is the first time I’ve ever seen this look on him.
His eyes are wary and scared, frantically searching mine, pleading for me to stop my relentless quest for the truth.
His eyes swim with unshed tears as his grip on his backpack tightens.
“What exactly am I meant to ask you for, Jules?”
“HELP!” I can’t control the volume at which the word comes out, as I shrink back at my own voice. “You were meant to ask for help…”
“How could I?! You don’t see the world that I see–”
“You don’t get to do that. You don’t get to take a guess at what I can and can’t see.”
“Then tell me! Tell me what you see, right now.” He’s standing so close I can feel his chest push against mine with every angry breath he takes. This isn’t the Zander I’ve come to know; this one is cold and feels so far away, determined to shut me out.
“I see you, Zander, and right now it scares me.” His breathing doesn’t calm; if anything, he’s panting with anger.
He seems to have this twisted view that I’m blind to what’s right in front of me.
He couldn’t be more wrong, because when it comes to Zander, I see everything.
“I think you're scared to let anyone get too close, because the marks all over your face and body remind you of what happens when you do. We’re just two dumb kids, but you’re smart enough to know that this isn’t okay. Let me help you. Please, Zander.”
I don’t know when I did it, or if he even realised, but our hands are now joined between our bodies, just like when we were younger. It doesn’t seem to matter how old we get; I will always reach for him, and I hope that he will reach for me, too.
“You don’t get it,” he says in a voice so small and tired, “he’s my dad, Jules.
If he goes, what will I have left?” His words breaks my heart.
How could he feel so alone when I’ve been right by his side the whole time?
Have I not shown him enough love? I’ve been too busy letting him save me to realise he needs someone to save him too.
Pushing my own hurt and guilt to one side, I step into the shoes that he usually wears, gathering up all the strength I have not to cry at his broken words.
“You have me, Zan. Always.”
That day, we skipped school. I called my Mom on the mobile she had gifted me for my last birthday and told her Zander and I needed to go home.
I didn’t give her any details over the phone; it didn’t seem fair to drop something like that on her whilst she was at work, but I did tell her we would explain, and not to worry– we were safe.
I spin to face Zander in the hallway. He’s standing nervously in front of the door, twiddling a piece of cotton between his fingers.
Usually, he would be ripping off his coat and kicking his shoes into the cupboard by now, ready to race up to my bedroom to play the latest video game together.
But all he does is stand there, weighing up the consequences of what’s to come.
He knows that we can’t face his dad alone; he’s been trying for God only knows how long.
We need reinforcements. Zander needs an adult in his corner who will fight for him.
Someone to testify to how much of a good kid he really is, one who can stand in front of a grown man and defend the innocence of the broken boy in my hallway.
“Wanna go eat our lunch in the living room and watch WWE?”
“Sure,” he replies, slowly shifting to remove his bag.
“Look, I know you’re scared, but I promise, for the rest of the afternoon, all we’re gonna do is watch TV and eat all the good stuff my Mom stashes away, okay?
” I hope the time we have alone before she returns can be as normal as possible.
It’s hard enough to look at him and see the physical reminders of the cruelty, but the silence cuts just as deep.
“Yeah, okay.” His coat is off now, and he’s working off his shoes.
By the time Mom gets home, the tension has eased from Zander’s body.
He’s lying on the sofa, curled up with his hands tucked beneath his cheek.
He looks so peaceful when he’s sleeping.
So, rather than waking him, I just drape the blanket from the back of the sofa over his body and turn the TV down a little.
I meet her in the kitchen, she’s leaning back against the counters with an expectant look on her face.
“I’ll make you a drink, and then I’ll explain,” I tell her, flicking the kettle to boil. She takes a seat at the small table, wringing her hands nervously.
“Thank you for letting us come home today. I wouldn’t have asked if it wasn’t important,” I start.
I have the sudden urge for her to know that I don’t take her kindness for granted, after seeing the kind of home Zander comes from.
She moves her cup of coffee to one side and grips my hands in hers, stroking her thumb up and down my own.
“I know, that’s why I didn’t have to think twice about it. Now, what’s going on, Jules?”
I considered waking Zander when Mom came home, but I decided against it.
He didn’t exactly tell me what was happening; rather, he just let me fit together the pieces and didn’t deny my theory.
I don’t think he’s ready to confront just how wrong it is that his own dad could lay hands on him, let alone tell someone the facts.
So I tell her everything. I stick to only what I know to be true, the things I’ve seen, the feelings I get from his behaviour, and then the sight that greeted me this morning.
“He thinks if he speaks up, then he would be alone. I wouldn't let that happen, Mom. I just… I want to help him b—but he won't let me…” I can’t stop the tears from falling this time. I don’t have to put on a brave face with my Mom; I can let her hold me whilst I cry for my best friend and the injustice of it all.
“I-I just want t-to keep him here… Here wi-with us.” Silent sobs wrack my entire body, as my tears soak through her shirt. She just holds me, stroking my hair and whispering over and over–
“I know, baby. I know.” I didn’t realise just how much I needed the comfort until my body felt too heavy and I slumped against her.
“How about we let him sleep a little bit longer, and you and I make sure he has something delicious to eat when he wakes up?”
We busy ourselves in the kitchen, putting on music to fill the spaces in our minds that threaten to fill with the nightmarish images of Zander returning home.
It’s just a simple meal– pasta bolognese, but it’s homemade and one of his favourites.
Turning to put the garlic baguettes on the table, the sight of Zander standing in the doorway stops me in my tracks.
His hair is wild, and his eyes are hooded with sleep.
“Hey,” It’s all I manage to say. Nerves overtake me from head to toe. Did I mess up by confiding in my Mom?
“It smells good in here, Miss James.” He’s polite as always, but the tone of his voice is apprehensive; he’s testing the waters.
“So good that it woke you from your sleep, huh?!” She teases, throwing a smile his way. I watch as his body melts into the doorframe, his rigidness gone with one kind gesture.
“Wanna come and sit down? I even did the drinks this time,” I jest. Zander pushes himself off the doorframe, slapping me gently on the back and pulling out a chair.