Disclaimer: Everything’s mine. No one else’s. So, you know, don’t bother stealing. It’s not worth your time.

Author’s Note: This was inspired by an idea I got last year, but never got around to writing until now.

This goes out to Jessica, for her support and much more. Much thanks also goes to Romy and Sandra for their support and telling me their opinions (and also for being such great people ;P).

A note on the tense – this is told in past tense, with an older Pyrie narrating it in the present. So if it seems confusing, my apologies.

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Bitter Realities

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Later on, after many games of Chinese checkers, tag, and basketball, and many tears and joy and laughter had been shared, it was sadly and regretfully that Mama, Dad and I returned home, waving widely at Marsh, his parents and Romy the whole way, until they could no longer see us and we couldn’t see them. And until to the both of us we were blurry dots on the horizon.

I went to sleep that night, wistfully thinking of the good times we had had, and how I had never wanted to leave and face reality the next day. This reality, with all its happiness and “family together time,” was where I wanted to be.

Too bad it never happened that way.

The next morning, I blearily woke up to my dolphin alarm clock chirping and bleating loudly and wildly at me, and I groaned, not wanting to get up and face the day. If I had my way, I would’ve stayed in those warm, thick blankets, and the heat of my pillow, and never leave.

At least there was one thing to look forward to – and that was to see my best friend – my best girl friend, that is – Sparta Jordan, again. How did I know that? A few days before, she had unexpectedly, shockingly rung me up and told me that she was moving back to America.

Her father, who was a businessman, had been transferred back to the States, and she explained, her family was feeling homesick for Everest, Minnesota. You can imagine how dizzyingly happy I was.

At that thought, my whole world brightened somehow, and I leaped out of bed, not caring at all what taunts and sneers they had for me that day.

And little did I know, not only would Sparta’s homecoming be one to remember fondly for the rest of my life, but something else would make the day memorable, too – in a totally different way, and one I had never expected.

I recognized Sparta instantly once she entered through the front doors – nothing about her had changed, except for her hair and choice of clothes. As usual, I thought to myself, smothering a laugh. I was safely enclosed in a corner, far away from prying eyes and jeering laughs, yet close enough so my friends could find me easily.

“Pyers, dahling!” Sparta gasped when she saw me a split second later. “Is that you? Oh, is that really, really you? Honest to God? Wow, you’ve grown so much!” She gave me a hug, which I gratefully returned. Everyone needs a hug – especially one of Sparta’s “Extra Special and Better than Hot Chocolate” hugs.

“Hey,” I smiled ruefully. “You haven’t changed a bit either, Sparta! How was England?”

“Oh, simply fabulous,” She settled then into telling me of her adventures in royal and medieval England – and it was all I could was not to laugh out loud – if I did, they would hear, and would torment me until Judgement Day. If there even was a Judgement Day.

“And did you know,” Sparta sighed dreamily, “that the best part was meeting this bloke named Faisal? He was sweet, kind – the best guy you would ever meet in your life, Pyrie. Next to Marsh,” she coyly added, raising an eyebrow at me.

I blushed hotly. “Sparta,” I hissed, “don’t talk like that! Shame on you for suggesting that – when you know I feel nothing whatsoever, except platonic feelings, for Marsh.”

She only grinned, knowing full well that I no longer was telling the truth anymore. Even if then I hadn’t known it myself . .

“What about me?” Marsh chose to show up then. Then his eyes widened. “Spars! Well, would you look at that,” he grinned cheekily at Sparta’s glaring at him, “five years have passed by and you’ve come back at long last from your dear old beloved England! How have you been? When did you arrive?”

Sparta ceased glaring at him then; knowing as well as the three of us did that she could not resist Marsh’s undeniable, “Marsh” charm. And only she knew I couldn’t, either.

“Two days ago,” she answered, “and I’ve been fine. I was just telling Pyrie how I had to deal with the torment of leaving Faisal,” at this she sniffled, making Marsh oh so subtly roll his eyes, “and how lovely England was. Oh, how I had not wanted to live! But I did want to see my beloved Minnesota again, so here I am.” She gave him a look. “And don’t you even say anything against England! She’s a beautiful, beautiful country. And the people are, too.”

“I’m sure they are,” He answered dryly, “especially this Faisal person.”

Sparta threw up her hands in mock surrender. “As usual, you love to spoil my fun, Marsh!”

“It’s fun doing it too,” He ducked a pencil flying at him. “Sparta! Tsk tsk – I never knew you to be so violent. Perhaps England changed you, hmm?” He raised an eyebrow.

All throughout this, I was trying my hardest not to laugh. After all, I didn’t need an angry as hell Sparta running after me with pitchforks.

Marsh caught my eye and grinned mischievously. “By the way, Pyrie – what was Sparta telling you about her lovable Faisal anyway?”

“Nothing really,” I replied, biting my lip as to not laugh, “just that he was sweet and kind – ‘the best guy I would ever meet in my life,’ so she said.” I glanced at Sparta and beamed sheepishly.

“Oh . . . so that’s what she said, huh?” Marsh was in Teasing Mode now.

Sparta just rolled her eyes. “Cool it, Marshy boy. By the way, whatever happened to that Jasmine girl you were so infatuated with before?” At this, Marsh’s cheeks pinked.

I couldn’t help but laugh, but at the same time a painful pang hit me. I knew about Jasmine Bromley – she was a star basketball player for our school. And she also happened to be in our class. Not only was she one of our school’s finest players, but also one of the most popular and prettiest. In fact, I could go as far as to say that she was Miss Perfect incarnated.

And I also knew that ever since Marsh had first laid eyes on her in the fifth grade, he had been enamored with her. Absolutely, over the moon infatuated with her.

It was enough to make me jealous, really. Except one, I had no reason to be jealous, and two, she was not a threat to my friendship with Marsh.

So why did I think and feel that she was? She was every hormonal high school male’s dream – luxurious, wavy brown hair that any guy would love to run his fingers through, curvy hips – as well as curves everywhere else on her perfect body – long legs that stretched forever, and athletic skills. She was popular, gorgeous, smart, funny, athletic and nice. No wonder every boy with sense at Everest Junior High School loved and worshipped her.

And to top it all off, Marsh was one of those boys.

A tight feeling squeezed my heart; I couldn’t breathe. It was as if something was suffocating me, and I wasn’t strong enough to fight it.

I had to get out of there.

Not bearing to hear Marsh’s reply to Sparta’s teasing, I wheeled my way out of there silently, hoping they wouldn’t notice me leaving. I turned around for a brief moment to look.

Luckily for me, they were too immersed in their bantering to notice anything around them – which I was thankful for. Then I decided to leave before they realized I was gone, and searched for me.

I became absorbed in my thoughts as I wheeled down a hallway – I didn’t even know or care where the hell I was going. As long as it was far, far away from Marsh.

Just thinking his name, even in my mind, made my heart pang painfully again. What was wrong with me? My thoughts whirled in circles trying to figure this out. It just didn’t make sense – why would I feel jealous of Jasmine Bromley because Marsh liked her?

My ponderings skidded at that point; I found myself having to believe the answer, as ludicrous as it was. It was true, but at the same time it was ridiculous. I mean, me, Pyrie Marshall, have a crush on her best friend, Marsh Harper? Even that sounded like a tabloid headline: “Handicapped Girl Does Ultimate Crime – Falls for Her BEST FRIEND!!! Story on page 4.”

I had a feeling I was going to be sent to the loony bin, where doctors would poke me with their rubber mallets and stethoscopes until I suffocated or died from grief at my unreciprocated crush. I could see another blaring headline now: “Girl Dies From Unrequited Crush! Details on page 9.”

Yeah, I’m cynical.

But what’s life without a little cynicism?

A sudden cough caught my attention, breaking off my mocking thoughts about love and crushes. I stiffened; I knew that “cough” anywhere. It was one of them, the popular kids who made my life literally a living hell. That fake cough that was meant to catch my attention – which it unfortunately did – belonged to none other than Jasmine Bromley.

What a surprise, right? I said before that Jasmine Bromley was nice to everyone – but the catch was, she was nice to everyone except me. And do you know what the ironic thing was?

She liked Marsh – and to make everything so nice for me, she was jealous of my friendship with him. That’s right – jealous. I couldn’t believe it myself. Why couldn’t she be jealous of Sparta or – anyone else except me? What had I ever done to her – besides being friends with Marsh?

I sighed softly – beneath the seemingly perfect mask Jasmine wore was a person of real ugliness. It’s a good thing that Marsh doesn’t know the real Jasmine, I thought to myself.

More irritating coughs.

Geez, they weren’t being very subtle, were they? I decided to give them the benefit of the doubt – big mistake, I found out later – and wheeled around.

“So nice of you to come join us,” sneered Jasmine. “We’ve been looking forward to seeing you.”

Oh, great. Things were getting worse by the second.

And there wasn’t anything that I could do about it. I fought down a surge of helplessness – Marshalls do not get terrified. And they don’t show their enemies that they’re scared. “They stick it out and pretend to be brave,” I remember Dad telling me once.

I took a deep breath. “Really, Jasmine? What did you want to see me for?”

She whipped out a black object from behind her back. Instantly I recognized it – oh no oh no oh no, I was struck with horror. It was a mace that she held in her hand. One that would kill me instantly with a few blows.

“I’m glad you asked,” Jasmine smirked. “We wanted to give you a present for being so brave. You inspire us.”

What utter bullshit that was. But I just stuck it out and listened, frantically thinking of a way to escape. I was desperate.

“ . . . I’m glad.” was my enthusiastic response. “What’s my present?” I knew I was digging myself deeper into the trap they had set for me, but at that moment I was frantic for anything. Anything that could possibly work under the circumstances, I wanted to know.

Evil smirks came on her cronies’ faces, as if they’d been painted on permanently. I had known for ages that they hated me; but this much? I wondered anxiously what they were going to do with me . .

I didn’t have to wait to find out.

“This,” Jasmine grinned, and raised her mace. Her followers did the same. Mentally I prepared myself for the blow, and ducked when she aimed the mace at me.

A manic look came over her eyes. “You will pay for that, Little Pyrie. You took my Marsh away . . . I’ll make sure you’ll pay dearly. Very dearly.”

She was psycho. I’d never been so damn sure than I was then. Jasmine was mad, insane. She needed to be in an asylum, not attending Everest Junior High School.

She raised her mace again, and hit her target, which was my jaw, this time. I hadn’t had time to duck; I had frozen like an idiot, a dumbstruck rabbit. My jaw felt as if it had been split wide open and shattered into a million pieces; I’d never felt anything as agonizing as this before.

A scream was heard; I wasn’t sure if it was mine or someone else’s. “Marsh isn’t yours – he never was yours!” I found myself yelling; panic had taken its hold on me.

What the hell was I saying? Words poured out of my mouth, never stopping. “I never took him away from you – it was your whole damn imagination, your jealousy, playing tricks on you and making you jump to conclusions! It never was me!”

Another blow found its target – my arm – and I thought I felt a faint crack of bones breaking. Tears streamed down my face; my world became blurry. Again and again, the torturous blows found me; I’d grown defenseless and weak, letting them, the stronger ones, overtake me.

Why wasn’t I fighting back? The reason was, I couldn’t – I was too weak. They were strong. They had the advantage . . I willed myself not to cry and tried to ignore the blinding pain that was searing its way throughout my whole body.

So the only pathetic thing that I could do then was to hold my arms out in front of me and let the maces hit me, and pray that the attacks would be over. I just hoped that this would be over soon. I could only take this for so long . . .

“PYRIE!”

Was I hallucinating? Was that Marsh’s voice that I was hearing?

“Pyrie!” That was Sparta.

I definitely was not hallucinating.

I dropped my arms and was stunned by the scene in front of me. The principal, Mr. Gates, was huffing heavily, his face lobster red with anger. Anger at them, I thought with a bittersweet twinge of satisfaction. Marsh and Sparta were near him, shock, disbelief and disgust etched clearly across their faces.

Jasmine and her goons stood, slack-jawed and terrified. One word of Everest wisdom: If you attend our school, you do not want to see Mr. Gates angry. Period.

They had lowered their maces; some glanced nervously from me to Mr. Gates; back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. I worried if their eyeballs would fall from their sockets if they kept on doing that. Then I decided not to bother with distressing myself about them; I had other things to worry about; things that were more important than them. Like what was going to happen after all this.

Finally, Mr. Gates spoke, his voice tight. “This . . . this is an absolute outrage. You’ve brought shame not only upon our school, but upon yourselves. Beating up a defenseless student, one who’s handicapped at that, is one of the most despicable things mankind will do. Your punishment will be decided by the state of Minnesota . . but your ultimate punishment will be the guilt that you’ll have for the rest of your life.”

Then he turned and walked away; to bring a board member, a police officer or the superintendent, I figured. Mr. Gates was a man who didn’t let go of things easily.

After that Marsh and Sparta rushed over to me. “Oh, Pyrie –” Sparta’s voice broke. “I’m so sorry. We’re so sorry.”

“What are you saying sorry for?” I asked, confused.

“For not seeing where you were and letting this happen . . we just watched.” She bit her lip.

“Don’t feel sorry,” I told her firmly. “You have no reason to be sorry – you didn’t make this happen, you didn’t beat me. So stop beating yourself up about it.” In a quiet voice I said, “That goes for you, too, Marsh.”

Pain was visible in his eyes, but he didn’t say anything. Those sorrowful blue orbs of his told me everything, of everything he was feeling right then – guilt, anger, regret, sadness.

All aimed at himself, because he had watched and done nothing. His jaw was tight and he was trembling. Not only was he mad at what had happened to me – but he was mad at Jasmine, too. This was a huge shock to him – an unbelievable shock. How he dealt with it, I don’t know.

All this I got from his eyes.

My voice was shaking as I spoke again. “Please, the both of you – don’t feel guilty. I’m all right, see?” I offered them a feeble smile, silently pleading for them to stop blaming themselves, because what had happened hadn’t been their fault. At all.

Saying nothing, Marsh took my hand and Sparta took charge of my wheelchair.

And together we left Jasmine and her cronies, leaving them to face their fate.