Riverview School For Girls [GxG]

twenty eight

Sydney glanced over her shoulder nervously, scanning the dining hall for Miss Burke's cold eyes. When she couldn't locate their scowling head of year, she turned back to her breakfast, stabbing a hash brown with her fork, "I don't think she's here yet."

"Relax." Val told her disinterestedly as she buttered a slice of toast.

"I can't." Sydney was fidgeting in her seat, and tugging at her tie, "She told me to take the braids out." She reminded her friends, "When she sees that I still have them in she's gonna kill me."

"She can't dictate the way you style your hair." Dahlia told her matter-of-factly.

Willow's fingers traced the silver prefect badge pinned to her blazer, and in that moment, she struggled to see it as anything more than a scrap of metal. It was no longer a shield, or an emblem of pride. It was just a badge. She dropped her hand to her side, and stared down at her food, lost in thought. The figures in the stained glass windows weren't watching her today. They were bored of her. They were distracted by their own lives, their own secrets, their own sins.

"I got the results of my STI test." Sydney said.

"And?" Val raised her brows questioningly.

"All clear." Sydney smiled.

"Why did you think you needed to get tested anyway?" Willow frowned.

Sydney shrugged, "I don't trust the guy I'm sleeping with. He'd put his dick into every girl he saw if he had the chance."

"You are using protection, right?" Willow asked sceptically.

Sydney rolled her eyes, "I'm not an idiot, Will." She sighed, "You're lucky you don't have to worry about condoms."

She blushed, but couldn't stop the laugh that bubbled up her throat, "Shut up." She mumbled.

Val stood up, grabbing her backpack, and flicking her dark hair out of her face, "I'll meet you guys in History."

"Where are you going?" Dahlia frowned.

"Toilet." She murmured dismissively, taking off before her friends could say another word.

Willow dropped her cutlery and fumbled to her feet, "Me too." She said quickly, slinging her backpack over her shoulder, and following Val out of the dining hall, clumsily zigzagging past rows of sleepy girls with messy hair, "Val!" She called out once she had reached the quiet hallway, "Val, wait up!"

Val slowed to a stop, sighing heavily as she turned around to face Willow, "What?" She rose her brows expectantly.

Willow glanced over her shoulder, making sure that they were alone, "Can we talk?"

Val laughed coldly, "The fuck do we have to talk about, Willow?"

"Us." Willow gulped.

"Us?" Val stepped closer, tightening her grip around the strap of her backpack.

"You don't really talk to me anymore." Willow said, "Since our fight."

"It wasn't a fight." Val rolled her eyes.

"What was it then?"

"I don't know, Willow!" Val snapped, "Just...Just go back to the others, alright? I'll see you in History."

"It's not all my fault, y'know?" Willow said through clenched teeth, "Our friendship — it's a two way street, Val."

Val's eyes narrowed, "What are you talking about?"

"Maybe you're right — I never made enough effort with you." She admitted, "But you never made enough effort with me, either."

"That's bullshit!"

"No, it isn't!" Willow's anger was bubbling close to the surface now.

Val curled her hands into fists at her side, "I tried, Willow." She said lowly, "When we were kids, I gave you everything. I let you borrow my clothes; I let you stain them, and rip them, and give them back dirty. I let you use my moisturiser, my shower gel, my tampons. I let you keep the light on all night so you could stay up reading, even when Sydney and Dahlia complained about it." She was breathing heavily, her shoulders shaking, "I defended you. I said it was your thing—books—and they needed to respect it."

Willow was speechless, her jaw clenched tight, palms growing sweaty, "Val—"

"I let you look down on me. For my grades, for how drunk I would get, for how many boys I would sleep with." She gulped, "And the whole time, I thought—" Her voice grew thick, the words sharp, "I thought, 'Willow's so great, she's so smart, she's so perfect'. I wanted to be just like you. I still do, and you—you never gave me the time. You never cared."

"I care, Val!" Willow realised—too late—that her vision was foggy, and her cheeks were wet. She was crying. "I care about you so much." She said stiffly, "A-And I'm sorry if I haven't shown it in the right ways, I just...I'm bad at it...at...at saying the things that matter...to the people that matter."

Val was watching her with an unreadable expression, her face twisted up in torment, "I just feel so...so fucking alone, Willow. And I know that that's not all your fault — sometimes it's Sydney's and Dahlia's, too. But most of the time it's mine."

Willow shook her head, wiping at her damp cheeks, "It's not your fault—"

"I get sad." Val looked down at her laces — it made it easier to talk, "I get so sad, and everything feels so heavy, and you guys feel so...so far away." She admitted. "So, I just...I keep myself far away, because no one wants someone around who's this sad all the time."

Willow's heart clenched painfully, and she reached out to touch Val's shoulder, "I do." She whispered, "I want you around, Val. Happy or sad or annoying." She cracked a weak smile, "I want you around. Always. You're my friend. One of my best friends." She squeezed her shoulder.

Val pulled away from her touch, rubbing the spot where Willow's hand had been a moment ago, "Sorry." She mumbled, "I-I don't know why I'm saying all of this."

"It's okay." Willow smiled softly.

"It's not." Val shook her head, "I'm not, and we're not."

Willow flinched at Val's harsh words, "We're...We're not?"

"No." Val swallowed her sorrow, lifted her chin up, and relit her dark eyes with a familiar flame of anger, "You're a bad friend, Willow."

Willow's eyes welled with tears again, "I-I'm sorry—"

"You've never been there for me." Val snapped, "All these years... All this—this pain inside of me—it's...it's been there for so long, Willow, and you never noticed. You never tried. You never cared."

"I tried." She gulped, "I'm sorry—"

"Me too." Val agreed bitterly, "But I can't forgive you — for all the times you let me down. I can't." She didn't wait for a response before shoving past Willow, their shoulders knocking together, sending Willow stumbling backwards a few steps. Val didn't look back as she marched down the corridor, and disappeared around the corner, her footsteps fading into silence.

Willow stood there, lost, alone, crying. She felt so small, and so weak, and so pathetic.

'You're a bad friend.'

She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to hold back the flood of tears, desperate to come gushing out.

'I can't forgive you.'

She felt her knees go weak, and she leant back against the wall, attempting to catch her balance.

"Miss Chambers? Are you okay?"

She glanced up, and through her tears, and her foggy blue eyes, she met Dr Lloyd's tired gaze. He was watching her, brows knitted together in concern, a stack of folders clutched to his chest.

"Willow?" He pressed, "What's wrong?"

Whatever strength she had left drained away, her control slipping out of her reach, her tears coming heavier than ever, "Everything." She choked out.

"Willow—"

"Everything's wrong."