An Imperfect Circle (8 page)

“
I’d look better without the wig,” I answer thoughtfully.

Can I do this? Can I go without my wig in public? If I’m honest with myself, the prospect is nowhere near as scary as it once might have been. I feel a little bit ridiculous with my goal of scaring people off now that I want Becky close.

“How come?” Becky looks at me curiously.

I smirk.
“Because I have red hair.”

“
You do?” She squeals loud enough to attract the attention of other customers.

I nod, amused by Becky’s
predictably happy reaction. No doubt she’s already planning membership cards for the ginger club.

“
Can I… Can I see?” Becky asks, still excited but obviously cautious.

I don’t give myself time to think about it. I quickly undo the ribbons woven through the dreads. The wig isn’t a wig in the normal sense. I basically part my hair into pigtails and the dreads sort of slot onto my normal hair, covering it completely.

“Oh!” Becky gasps. “It’s so wavy.”

She’s right;
it is. I like my waves. Becky’s hair is more of a red-brown and it’s mostly straight. Mine is the kind of red that defines red. The sort of red you’d show a blind man if he miraculously regained his sight.

I slip the
pigtails out and let it cascade down my back. Pigtails aren’t really me but they’re practical for the dreads.

“
You look
so
amazing,” Becky coos. Her smile is so genuine and I know she’s happy for me, not because she’s proud of the outfit she picked like some people might be.

“
I like it,” I grin. “We should do this more often.”

“
We should,” she nods enthusiastically. “Do you… do you want to wear it out of here?”

“
Only if you do,” I challenge. I’m not entirely comfortable being out and about without my goth armour but the strange thing is, with Becky Blossom at my side and the big round button on my front, I feel closer to Elise than I have done since my childhood.

“
You’re on,” she announces, ducking back into the changing room to get back into the clothes I picked out.

I grab a pair of red ballerina pumps on the way to the till because the big black boots do
not
work with the dress. They have a little white button on the front and I’m fairly sure they were made for this outfit. They’re perfect and I like perfect.

After we’ve each paid for our clothes, me with the money from selling my work and Becky with money her parents gave her, we make for the bus stop so we can go back to my house.

We’re about half way to Normanton and my house when I feel it. I know what I’m going to see before I turn my head to the front of the bus. Becky is in ignorant bliss as she stares out of the window and hums to herself. I’d give anything for that ignorance but I felt him before I saw him.

Karl Carter and Matt Smith flash their bus passes at the driver before they jog up the stairs onto the upper level.

I see Karl glance around the bus with a vaguely curious expression before he continues upwards. I feel an uncomfortable twinge in my stomach because he didn’t see me and that should make me happy, not sad.

I realise shortly after that he’s not used to seeing me without the goth ensemble. I wonder vaguely what they’re doing on the bus to Normanton. Unless they’ve moved, the Carters don’t live anywhere near this end of town. Their end may be nicer but I don’t want to be anywhere near it. Not if that house of horrors is still there.

When the bus approaches our stop, I rush to get out of my seat. I want off this bus and I want off it now. Becky looks a little startled but she gets up anyway. My efforts are thwarted when a little old lady almost falls over in front of me. I catch her before she bashes her hip from the momentum of the bus and I don’t mind but it’s slowed down my escape slightly

To my relief, I don’t see Karl or Matt anywhere and I breathe a sigh of relief as I step off the bus. The relief is short lived; they’re already a few feet ahead of me as my new shoes meet the tarmac. They must have slipped off the bus whilst I was borrowing some of Becky’s powerpuff girl superpowers to rescue old ladies.

To my dismay, they’re heading in the same direction we are. Blossom sees them for the first time and I see her nervous gaze out of the corner of my eye. She knows how I feel about Karl Carter. She knows
he knows my secret and rejected me because of it.

She grabs my spare hand, the one not holding my shopping bags and squeezes it reassuringly.
We don’t speak as we trail behind, keeping our distance, and I’m grateful. I don’t want them to know we’re here.

They turn a corner ahead of us and I finally breathe normally again. I can’t face Karl without my armour in place. My heart can’t take it. I’m quit
e enjoying their family tactic of pretending I don’t exist. It’s working for all of us and if I had my way, we’d keep it up for the next two years until I never have to see them again.

My stomach
doesn’t twist at that thought. It doesn’t.

“
You following us for your little goth friend, Becky?” Matt accosts Blossom just as we pass the corner where we thought they’d turned off. Clearly, they were just waiting for us. They must have recognised Becky after all.

“
I know you’re not from Normanton,” Matt continues, glaring at a slightly startled looking powerpuff girl.

“
Ellie?” Karl’s gaze is firmly locked on me. He still looks angry but there’s something else there. Confusion.

“
What?” I growl, balling my fists up at my sides.

“
You look…”

“
Normal?” Matt offers with an evil chuckle.

“
Different,” Karl frowns. “You have red hair.”

“
Observant,” I bite sarcastically.

“
Come on, Ellie,” Becky tugs at my hand. “Let’s go.”

I’m all for following but Matt and Karl block our path.

“So you’re the one following us,” Matt drawls snarkily. “What do you want?”

Karl’s confusion is gone and he’s obviously angry again.
“If you’re going to blackmail me it won’t work.”

“
What are you talking about?” I blurt in irritation.

“
Let me guess, you want me to stop the rumours about you? Well you can fuck off. I don’t give a shit what you think you know, you do anything about it and you’ll regret it.”

This is definitely not the boy I remember. This is an angry version. An angry
, idiotic version. Why the hell would I blackmail him? I’ve kept his secret so far, why would I change my mind all of a sudden?

I don’t know if I’m more insulted by his assumption or by his rude threats against me.

“God, you’re such an idiot,” I snarl, giving his solid chest a hard shove. To my dismay it barely budges, which is a surprise considering my awesome woodworking strength.

For a split second, Karl looks surprised, but then I see the anger on his face morph into something else, something much more terrifying. The hatred in his eyes
almost matches the burning fury I’ve seen in Matt’s. For the first time in my life, I’m actually a little scared of Karl and I hate myself for it. Men don’t scare me. Not any more.

In
a fraction of a second, I’m pinned against the wall, his body pressed against mine. He lowers his face to mine and my chest struggles to expand enough to draw in a breath.

In different circumstances, I might be worried he’d try to kiss me but that’s at the other end of the spectrum to what’s happening here.

“Don’t call me an idiot,” he growls. And I mean really growls. His large hands grab my arms tightly, any tighter and I might bruise.

I feel it happening before I can
stop it. I’m losing control and I can’t do anything about it. He’s pinning me in place with his bodyweight over me and it’s too familiar. My mind’s already back in that little room with its dark corners and the smell of whisky. I’m desperately trying to pull in a breath so I can do some breathing exercises but he’s still pinning me to the wall.

I’m vaguely aw
are that he’s still growling at me and making threats but I can’t hear them. This is the first day I’ve let myself feel like Elise in five years and I’ve already put her in danger. She’s trapped and powerless to a man again.

I almost feel Ellie and Elise merge into one at this thought. I’m not powerless. I’ll never be powerless again. My body is mine and I’m not going to let fear control me like I did as a child.
Especially not fear of Karl Carter.

I swing my knee up with all my
might. I don’t need chemical X but I might need restraining. My knee meets its target and I feel a satisfied thud against my legging-sheathed kneecap as I make contact with his meat and two veg.

Karl releases me immediately and falls to the floor, clutching his now-battered manhood.

“Don’t ever touch me,” I growl. I wish I could say it was threatening but it came out as more of a whisper. I’m still a little shaken up so I grab a horrified Becky and pull her in the direction of my house.

I don’t even remember walking home. The last image in my mind is of pushing past Matt, who almost seemed amused at the
sight of his best friend lying on the floor, cupping his plums.

When I reach my front door, I take a deep breath, turning to Becky Blossom so I can apologise.

Before I get a chance, her arms are around me and she’s hugging me tight. As somebody who had her first hug in over five years just a week ago, I never realised how badly I could need one. This hug is everything it should be. Warmth, empathy, strength, and friendship.

“
I’m so sorry, Ellie,” Blossom whispers softly. “Are you okay?”

“
I’m fine,” I manage. I mentally check myself. I am fine. More fine than I thought I’d be. I’m pretty damn proud of myself for fighting for Elise. Fighting for me.

“
He shouldn’t have done that,” Becky shakes her head remorsefully as I let myself into the house.

“
No. He shouldn’t,” I agree. “But I shouldn’t have called him an idiot.”

“
If the shoe fits,” Becky grumbles. It’s the first time she’s said anything remotely bad about anyone and I look at her in shock.

“
Well… I mean…” she backtracks, her cheeks tinged with red. “I just mean, he was a bit of an idiot to you when you were younger.”

“
Becky, Karl saved me. What he did afterwards sucked, but at least he saved me. I’ll never forget that. Even if he is a bit of a baboon today.”

In retrospect, after what I witnessed, it was a stupid thing to say to him. He obviously has some sort of difficulty reading. It must have hurt his feelings for me to call him an idiot
after witnessing that and, in all honesty, it was a pretty low blow. I resolve myself to sack up and apologise to him on Monday.

Becky giggles.
“Baboon?”

“
Baboon,” I nod.

“
Elise!” My mother sings, bursting into the hall and demanding full attention with her swaying skirt and homemade necklaces.

I know she’s been waiting
for me and Becky to arrive since I left a few hours ago and she’s not fooling me by giving us a few minutes to get inside the house.

“
You must be Becky! Elise has told me all about you. Let me look at you, darling.”

“
Mum,” I warn, my voice is affectionate but my warning remains.

“
Nonsense, Elise,” mum scolds. “I must see who this girl is who has brought my daughter home without her shroud of darkness.”

I’m fairly sure Becky will think my mum means my goth get-up but I know she means my metaphorical shroud. I’m not so dim that I
don’t know I’ve been different since I met Becky. Happier. More hopeful.

“
Nice to meet you, Mrs Belrose,” Becky smiles politely.

“
It’s Ms Belrose,” my mum waves her hands with a chuckle. “But you, my dear, you must call me Corinne.” She rolls her R a little bit extra and beams broadly at Becky. She’s really piling on the French charm today.

I grin a
s I hear my aunt Cecile tell my mum to dial it back a bit in French before she turns to greet Becky with a gentle smile.

“
This is my aunt Cecile,” I introduce her.

“
Nice to meet you,” Becky smiles.

“
You must be hungry, girls,” aunt Cecile smiles. “Lunch is ready.”

“
You look lovely, Elise,” my mum smiles affectionately once we’re seated at the table. “But of course, you always look lovely.”

“
Must get it from her Dad’s side,” Cecile teases.

It’s a bit of a running joke between the three of us. Mum
was a bit, let’s say… experimental, in her youth. She wanted to try many, many new things. There were a few too many men eager to share experiences with her and she didn’t settle down anywhere for more than a few days.

End result? She doesn’t really know who my dad is, and therefore neithe
r do I. My mum doesn’t mind and, to be honest, it’s never bothered me either. I don’t need a dad and my mum always says it’s a good thing because she wouldn’t want to share me anyway.

“
I think today is the first time I’ve seen your eyes,” Becky cocks her head at me. “They’re pretty.”

“
Those she definitely gets from me,” mum boasts with a wink.

Lunch is fairly relaxed as mum talks about the
earthen community and Becky listens attentively. If I was the sort of person that cared what others thought, I imagine I’d be worried about bringing people home to meet my mum. I know she’s a little unusual but I don’t even think twice about it, especially not with Becky. If she was the sort of person to judge, we wouldn’t have ever gotten to be friends in the first place.

“
Bit of a more substantial lunch than your Wagon Wheels,” Becky grins at me as I lead her up to my room.

“
Aw, why did you say that? Now I’m craving one,” I groan playfully.

Becky giggles and I let her into my sanctuary. It feels odd having somebody outside my famil
y in here. Not bad, just odd. I smile as I watch Becky take in the room, walking around it and stroking all the wooden furniture I’ve made.

“
These are incredible,” she squats down to admire the façade of one of my anti-corners.

“
Thanks,” I beam. I’m proud of my work; it’s a part of me.

“
You really made all this?” She looks around wide-eyed.

“
Even the bed and the door,” I nod.

“
Wow,” Becky Blossom breathes appreciatively. “Awesome sauce.”

I grin at her catchphrase and watch as she looks at my lists. This feels personal and I swallow thickly at the idea of her reading them. She’s my best friend but it feels wrong regardless.

Becky only lingers on them for a few seconds, only long enough to read a few words, but she seems to sense that they’re private and doesn’t glance at them again. I love her even more after that.

By the time we drop Becky back at her – ginormous – house, we’re both a bit high on life and giggling. I’ve shown her how to do her eye make-up in shades that will flatter her big, brown, doe eyes and she’s painted my finger and toenails bright red. It seems a little cliché perhaps, to be doing this sort of stuff, but I don’t care. I’ve never allowed myself a friend before and I’m mentally kicking myself for missing out on this.