?LIBIA (Find my confidence) ?
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Chapter Seven.
Libia furiously wiped her eyes as more of that blasted paint fell into them. Her uniform was covered – ruined. But of course her shi-t was fine – left behind in the gym where it had been r!pp£doff of her, and she was very grateful to Damon for ma-king my outfit more girly, ma-king her wear an un-dershi-t. The black boots Damon had given her were filled and squishing with each step she took. She p@n-ted out Her humiliated sobs as she ran, tears mixing with the red, white, and blue paint as it ran down her cheeks.
The fresh air did nothing to calm her, as it usually would have. Her che-st constricted as her mind involuntarily went throu-gh the whole scene, and another sob broke free.
***
The day went by fairly well. Other than having to sit next to him in clas-s, Johnson and Libia didn’t run into each other. Although the mischievous smile he gave her did nothing to calm her anger.
Damon had to go to football practice today, so he was outside, while Libia had gym indoors. She was surprised, asking him when he’d joined the football team. He said it was a hobby and he wasn’t that good. He’d informed her, quite happily, that his practice was only thirty minutes long, while Libia’s was forty five, so he could watch her for a little while. Libia was happy too, knowing he’d be there.
So he walked her to clas-s, k!$$£d her on the cheek causing a raging blus-h, turned and left calling, “See ya, Babe!”
She wanted to swoon at his pet name, yet again, as she ogled his backside while he walked away. Sighing when he was out of sight, she turned and entered the gym. She was slightly late, seeing that everyone was here alre-ady. Fortunately their coach hadn’t arrived yet, so she moved to sit down.
Unfortunately, Bailey Summers had other ideas. She stepped in front of Libia just as she took a step forward, causing her to pause. She gave Libia an angelic smile. “Oh my gosh, those boots are adorable!” She gushed.
She laughed, albeit a little nervously. “Thank you.”
“And your uniform shi-t looks amazing on you!” She said, gr-abbing the material of her shi-t, a little r0ûghly.
“I…um…,” She hesitated, unable to think of something appropriate to say.
Libia could feel her cheeks turning red as she tried desperately to think of something. Damn her shy attitude!
“You know what would be such a shame?” She mused, her hand ti-ght£ñing on Libia’s shi-t.
She looked up at her with wi-de eyes. “Huh?”
“It would be such a crying shame if this shi-t…r!pp£dsomehow!” She said, her smile turning slightly crazed as she nodded to something behind Libia.
Suddenly, strong arms wra-pped around her, and Libia skrie-ked as they r!pp£dthe shi-t open, the bu-ttons popping off and falling to the floor.
“Oops!” She heard Johnson breathe in her ear, and she cringed away, tears filling her eyes.
She was so glad that she had worn an un-dershi-t in that moment, and she silently thanked Damon for altering it and ma-king her uncomfortable with showing so much cleavage, as strange as that sounded.
Johnson let her go, and she let out a cry as she was thrown to the floor. Bailey was on t©p of her in an instant, as her friends stood around and laughed at Libia’s crying form un-der her. “Uh-oh! I’ve made her cry. Aw, it’s okay, Libs. You can get another shi-t!” She told Libia in a baby voice, pinching her cheek with added f0rç£ as she twisted it.
She squee-zed my eyes shut ti-ghtly as she let out another pained cry, wishing that she was anywhere but here.
“Come on guys, leave her alone!” Libia heard someone call from behind the crowd, but they ignored him.
“Hmm, I think this outfit nee-ds a little more flare, don’t you think Johnson?” Bailey looked up at her b©yfri£ndwhom leaned over her shoulder.
Johnson grinned down at Libia cruelly. “I think she does.”
Meanwhile, the boy ran from the gym, looking for the guy he knew would help. He’d seen Libia with him. He’d heard about the threats all day, of what he’d do if anyone messed with her. If he didn’t help her, then the boy would go and get the principle.
“No, plea-se!” Libia sobbe-d, as they dragged her to her feet.
After digging throu-gh a supply closet, they c@m£ up with the paint for the fourth of July dance next year, red white and blue paint. Three buckets. The lids were popped open, as Libia struggled in Johnson’s arms, crying desperately as she begged them to leave her alone.
“St©p. plea-se!” She sobbe-d, struggling futilely against him as they brou-ght the cans of paint over to where they stood.
“Damon!” The boy called, ma-king him pause in the middle of the game.
In result, Damon was accidentally tackled to the ground. Laughing, the boys joined in on the dog pile, as Damon gro-an ed and laughed beneath them. He turned to look upside down at the kid who had called his name.
“Yeah?”
“It’s Libia!” He said frantically.
With a strength he didn’t know he had, he pushed his mates off of him, staring straight at the boy.
“What about her?”
“Johnson and Bailey have got her pinned. I heard them talking. They distracted the coach with some technical problem because you know he’s the only one who can fix those kinds of things. I tried to st©p them, but they wouldn’t listen!”
The boy watched as Damon took off, rage boiling in his eyes, shaking his b©dy.
Goddammit! Damon raged. He’d wondered why Johnson wasn’t at practice. He should have known! Goddammit! Hold on Libia, I’m coming, Baby.
But he was too late. Johnson let go of Libia, and skipped back just as paint was thrown over her head. First the red, then the white, and finally, the blue. I myriad of colors dr!pp£ddown her b©dy, as she shivered, not from being cold, but from the fear and humiliation that zinged throu-gh her. She hvgged herself as the gym went silent, shivers wracking her b©dy, as she bit down on her l!pha-rd to keep the sobs at bay. Tears mixed with the paint, and dr!pp£dfrom her face. She flin-ched as the gym’s doors slammed open, unable to move for fear of sli-pping and humiliating herself further.
“Johnson!” Damon’s voice snapped, breaking the silence like the crack of a wh!p.
And suddenly, Johnson was on the ground, Damon on t©p of him, repeatedly punching him. This snapped Libia out of her frozen state, and a sob escaped herl-ips, before she ran, having to dodge the coach as he appeared in the doorway.
***
She shook her head to get rid of the memory, sobs mixed with p@n-ting breaths. If she didn’t slow down. she’d hyperventilate, but she couldn’t. She couldn’t make herself st©p.
“Libia!” Damon’s voice called, sounding as desperate as she felt.
She didn’t st©p – couldn’t st©p. She felt humiliated, and her cheek still ached from where Bailey had pinched it so ha-rd . She heard his footsteps behind her, getting closer. Tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap….and then suddenly her arm was caught in a warm, but vise like grip.
She refused to look at him, her humiliation growing as she watched the paint drip from her chin, pressing herl-ips together to hide another sob. To her surprise, he let out a soft laugh, almost sounding disbelieving.
“Oh, Libia. Even with paint in your hair, you’re beautiful,” He mused.
He pu-ll-ed her into him, setting his hand on the back of her head so her face was pressed against his che-st. She struggled, not wanting to get paint on him, but he held her close. Finally, she broke down, melting into him.
“That’s it, Babe. Let it out. Don’t worry about me,” He murmured.
So she cried like a baby in his arms, as he held her in silence. She was so damn tired of being weak. Being picked on. So…damn…tired! She wanted to just walk up to Johnson and punch him. To give him as much pain and humiliation as he had given her.
But the fact of it was, she was as weak as they come. She couldn’t even tell her family about one of her absolute favorite hobbies, or the fact that she’s wanted a tattoo since she was sixteen.
“I don’t…know why…you’re helping me,” Libia said between hiccu-ps. “I’ll never…be as strong…as you,” She pu-ll-ed back, wiping her face with one hand while the other hvgged across her stomach.
Damon sighed, lifting his now paint-covered hands and putting them on her face. “You’re so much stronger than me, Libia.” He shrugged fli-pp@n-tly. “You just don’t know it yet.”
***
When they reached her front door, Libia sniffed, wiping her cheeks once more. “Thank you for the ride, Damon. Sorry for getting paint on you…and your car,” She grimaced, glancing at the BMW.
He smiled at her. “Don’t worry about it. I told you, that’s my brother’s car, and he’s a hvge pushover,” Damon shrugged.
She studied him. He’d been fli-pp@n-t about the entire situation. She’d have thought, after the rage she saw in his eyes before he tackled Johnson, that he’d be brooding and angry for the rest of the week.
He’s hiding it. The thought c@m£ out of no where, surprising, but also ma-king Libia study him closer.
Libia’s thoughts were correct. Behind the kind smile he gave her, she could see the anger, the almost boiling rage that he hid almost perfectly well from his b©dy language, but his eyes were unable to conceal it fully.
Sighing, Libia wra-pped her arms around him.
Damon paused in surprise. Libia’s arms c@m£ around his w@!st, and her head la-id on his che-st. He had the destinct feeling that this embr@ce was not for her own comfort, but for his.
He had no idea how much he nee-ded that hvg, until she gave it to him. A wave of guilt and anger – at both himself and Johnson – crashed over him when those fragile, warm arms ti-ght£ñed around him. Letting out a breath, his calm composure shattered. He gr!pp£dher ti-ghtly in his own arms, lifting her up so her feet were a few inches off the ground. He buried his face in her n£¢k. Why hadn’t he been there? Why had Johnson decided to pu-ll something so cruel, knowing that Damon would pummel him? Why had he done it?
“I’m so sorry, Libia. I’m so…so sorry.”
Sighing again, Libia sma-cked him lightly on the back of the head. “None of this is your fault, Damon. You big idiot.”
Both of them were a little surprised at her bold, dry, yet kind words, but Damon only let out a breathy laugh against her n£¢k. “Yeah, sure. I’ll agree to make you feel better,” Damon muttered.
Rolling her eyes, Libia let him go, and Damon dropped her to the ground carefully.
“Go home and get cleaned up before I sma-ck you upside the head,” She threatened, although her voice was soft, ma-king the threat completely unbelievable.
Smiling, Damon sh0t her a wi-nk that made her knees wo-bble, before turning and walking off.
Libia smiled and rolled her eyes. She pu-ll-ed her key from her backpack, which Damon had graciously retreived for her, and unlocked the door. She was surprised to find her mom on the other side.
“So who was he? and what happened to you?” She demanded, not even waiting for Libia to step inside.
Libia tilted her head as she set her bag down beside the door, closing it behind her. “What are you doing here, and awake, Mom?”
“I’ve got the night off. Plus I heard from Ben that you’d gone on a d@t£ with ‘some guy named Jacob,’ and I wanted to ask you about him. Was that Jacob?” She gestured in Damon’s general direction.
Libia was suddenly glad that Damon usually drove his brother’s car to school. She didn’t think her mother would approve very much if she c@m£ home in a motorcycle.
“Does everyone like to spy on me out the window? And his name was Johnson. And no, I doubt I’ll be seeing him ever again,” She rolled her eyes, heading for her room.
“Then who was that? Why was he holding onto you like his life depended on it?” Mom questioned, following her.
“That’s Damon,” Libia replied, ignoring the second question.
“And…what happened to you?” She asked.
Libia walked into the bathroom, leaving the door open so she could talk to her while she washed her face off.
“Nothing. Just a school prank that everyone goes throu-gh when they’re new,” Libia lied, washing her hands off as well.
“They pour paint on you? Do you know how expensive those uniforms are? I paid fifty for the whole outfit! Now look at it!” She gestured to Libia’s ruined attire, as if she hadn’t alre-ady seen it.
“I tried to tell them,” She lied, “But it’s just what every new kid goes throu-gh,” Libia shrugged.
Mom gr-unted. “I’ll leave you to shower, but we’re talking about this Damon character when you get out,” She wagged her f!nger at Libia, “That kid has got it bad for you!”
Libia almost choked on air. “Mom! It’s not like that!” She cried.
She smiled knowingly. “Oh? What about you? I’ve never seen you meet another person’s eyes for more than a few seconds, and now you’re hvgging him as if you’d known him for years!” She pointed at her.
She spluttered, narrowing her eyes at her. “I don’t…I mean he doesn’t…we’re just friends!” She finally cried, before slamming the bathroom door shut.
He laughter faded down the hall, and Libia furrowed her eyebrows. They were just friends, right? Damon was pretending to d@t£ her because he wanted to help her get back at Johnson. That was all.
So why did her heart crack just a hair each time the words ‘Just friends’ pas-sed throu-gh her mind?
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Jealousy will kill Dat bit-ch Bailey. She will pay for Dat humiliation.
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