Bruised by Skilton Sarah

Author:Skilton, Sarah [Skilton, Sarah]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Amulet Books
Published: 2013-03-05T08:00:00+00:00

For the rest of October, Ricky and I practice three times a week in the garage, sort of like my old Tae Kwon Do schedule. I don’t know what he sees when he looks at me. Our only rule is no marks above the neck or any place a sleeve doesn’t cover. When we spar, we don’t wear any padding; it’s bone against bone. My shins and arms are the color of plums at first, and then rotten mangos. All the bruises of the rainbow.

The “no face” rule isn’t much better than the rules of Tae Kwon Do, but I have to live with it if I want Ricky to continue. Sometimes I wonder what the point is, though, if we’re not fighting for real. If we’re still holding back.

He told me he feels nervous unless he sees me at least once a day, because if he doesn’t know firsthand I’m okay, he’ll spend his classes wondering if something’s happened to me. He’s a senior, so we don’t even get lunch together. But we pass in the hall at the halfway mark, by my locker, and we look each other in the eyes, just a quick moment that says, “I’m here. You’re not alone.”

“Mrs. H. asked me something weird,” I tell him when we take a break from practicing in the garage. I’m still confused about seeing him in her office without me, and maybe he wonders the same thing about me. I quickly explain. “I had to see her on my own because I’m failing Current Events.”

I pause, giving him the chance to reciprocate and tell me why he was leaving her office when I showed up. But he doesn’t take me up on the offer.

“She said, ‘If you were under the table the whole time, why were you covered in blood?’”

Ricky doesn’t answer right away. “You don’t remember?” he says at last.

“It’s like I do, but I don’t. There’s a gap. I was under the table, and then I was in the police car. I know it was bad. I know it all went wrong. I just can’t picture it.”

I’m standing at the mirror, which faces another mirror on the opposite wall. Ricky stands behind me and murmurs in my ear, “Maybe you shouldn’t try. Maybe it’s your brain’s way of protecting you.”

We stare at each other in the wall mirrors, and all our images on down to infinity stare at each other, too. I keep thinking one pair of them might be brave and break away from the rest; maybe one of the Imogens, just one of the hundreds, will turn around and kiss one of the Rickys. I picture the rest of us looking on jealously. If only one pair of us does it, it won’t count, it won’t have to change anything, it won’t risk what we have—our closeness. One version of us could kiss, and the rest of us could still be safe.

I’m wondering if the person to break free of the mirror images will be me or a different Imogen, when—supreme mortification!—Dad interrupts us.

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