That Four Letter Word

He told me my eyes were the space where the ocean met the sky. He said you can look as close as you wanted to without seeing what was really there. My eyes were the heart of the ocean, so deep beneath the surface nobody could catch them.
My heart, he said, was the same. Buried inside me too deep to show, or to feel. Perhaps that is why I'm a closed box. Perhaps...that is the reason I can't love him.
But maybe, it's because it was captured long ago and returned without the beat.

Sometimes...I can't think.
*My mind twisted, clouding my thoughts*
Sometimes...I can't breath.
*The air was knocked from my lungs*
Sometimes...I think I'm already dead.
*He didn't let go*

I woke up on the floor by my bed, drenched in a thin layer of sweat. My breathing was fast and short, a sudden chill escaping me. My legs and arms felt beaten and soar, as if in my dream I was running, fighting, loosing.
I shook my head, pulling my legs up to my knees so they touched my chin. I said there for a while trying to shake away the memories of him. A pulse thumped in my arms, flowing down my body, kicking me in the stomach. I felt sick and ran to the bathoom, where I brushed my hair back and threw up whatever was inside of me.
After I showered and brushed my teeth I got my uniform on and marched down the three staircases leading to the main floor. Our old fasioned mansion mocked my clumbsy feet as I tripped once over an antique rug, almost ruining my uniform. As I entered the grand hallway I almost slipped on the marble floor, but caught myself on a statue of my great grandfather, the man who built this death trap.
When I got to the breakfast room I heard my mother's voice bouncing off the high ceilings. She stopped laughing as I entered the room, aware that I had not followered her orders and wore the blue diamind head band she picked up in Milan.
"Why aren't you wearing the headband?" her sharp voice dug into my innocent face as she snapped for the server.
"I forgot."
"Well, after breakfast go up to your room and put it on. It'll go beautifully with your hair." She asked the maid for coffee and a wheat bagel, then snapped for her to get me one as well.
"Fine." I muttered as I sat down on a strong, thick cherry oak chair and grabbed the butter for my bagel.
"No," she slapped my hand and told the server to take the butter, then yelled at her for putting it on the table in the first place. "As if people really need butter!" she yelled. "Bring out the jam from France."
I rolled my eyes when I was sure she wasn't looking, and then became aware of my growling stomach. I layed my napkin out on my lap and begun spreading a light layer of jam on my wheat bagel.
"Your father will be joining us for dinner tonight. He get's getting back from Peru this afternoon."
"Hmm," I mumbled as I pushed my plate away.
"You're not hungry?" her fork stabbed a blueberry and she lightly popped it in her tight mouth.
"No. I'm going to go to school, I have to get there early for something." I got up and pushed my chair in.
"You're wearing that dress I bought for you tonight. The blue Versache one. So come home before dinner and you'll put it on."
"Whatever." I walked out of the room and grabbed my school bag. While I walked to the end of the driveway I brushed my silky back hair with my thin fingers and pulled out a strand. It was long and smooth with no split end or dull color. The brown was almost so dark that it passed as black, making it odd that I had blue eyes and porcelin skin. But i didn't mind. I'd rather be odd than just another blond in Boston.
I dropped the strand of hair and found my red convertable and slided into the beige leather seat. I adjusted the mirror and looked at myself once more before putting the keys in. There was something about my face that made me incredibly self couscience. Whenever I found myself being stared at, the person wasn't staring at my chest or my legs, they were staring at my face. It made me turn pink, but even then I was still something to look at. I didn't mind being called pretty, but sometimes girls called me other things because of that. My eyes were a sharp blue, popping out through my long, black eyelashes, which never needed mascara. They were thick and curled at the edges, so it shortened my morning routine. My cheek bones stood high on my face and created slopes that made my face seem slimmer and longer. My lips were never thin but never too pouty, just full enough to stay moist without chap stick and smooth without treatment. Then there was my nose, which thankfully I got from my mother who has a tiny sloped nose. My father has a giant one with a bump in the center, not very great for pictures. My eyebrows were thin but not fake, and dark. Overall, my skin never recieved pimples or acne, but I did have a few freckles scattered across my nose, which my father says adds innocence to my otherwise intimidating face. In return, I thanked him for not giving me his nose.
Jordan, one of my best friends, said his favorite thing about me besides my eyes was my smile. He said it was like watching an Orbit commerical when I smiled, so he always thought I should have an English accent.
After checking my appearence I stepped on the gas and drove through our circular driveway, into the white streets of our neighborhood.
School was a different kind of experience than most kids had. In East High Prep the kids are not kids. They're tiny adults with their father's credit card and mother's trust. Instead of going to the mall and buying a few shirts then getting a pretzal, they take Daddy's helicopter and go shopping on Fifth Avenue then grab a bite to eat at a bistro where the salad is forty bucks. Was a glad to be part of these money-obsessed socialites? No, and neither was I including myself with them. Oh yes, they offered. They even went so far as to buy me a parking spot and whatever advantages their parents offered to get me in their group, but I refused. I wasn't about to backstab my friends and join the circus, because yes they were freaks and no, my friends were not a part of that.
My three best friends and I have known each other since kindergarten, where our prep school taught us our multipication tables. Jordan, whose loved me since first grade, David, whose parents divorced when he was ten and now he lives with his father, and Jasper, whose good looks could get him any girl, yet he decides to turn his attention towards being a doctor instead. I realized that they were guys, but it only made life easier. Being guys, they hardly ever gossiped or caused drama, and things seemed less complicated with them around. I was better aquanted with guys than girls. Girls were caddy and viscious, way too into looks, and shopped their time away. Guys did what they wanted to do when they wanted to do it, regardless of what other people thought. I got along with that.
I was an artist. My favorite thing about class was when we took notes, that way I had time to draw pictures on my notebook or write something thta came to my mind. I loved drawing, especially people in nature, candid photos, and I loved to write about anything, anywhere. School to me was a bore, something that was impossible to get out of so you just had to suffer through it. Which is exactly what I did.
Once I got to school and parked in the parking lot I walked through the almost empty halls, looking for one of the guys. Usually they didn't get here until 7:30, half an hour before school started, and today I got here at 7:20, so I just wondered the hallways impatiently. I didn't talk to anyone else really, unless they talked to me. People didn't usually come up to me, I guess I looked like a bitch to them or something, I wasn't sure. But whatever their reason, they were frightened of me. I saw it when I walked down the halls and every once in a while I'd look up and meet someone's eyes, and they'd immediatly look down again and either turn crimson or look annoyed. The guys were completly different. I think they were confused by my choice at not joining the other popular girls. They looked at me like I was something in an over priced meat market, something they couldn't afford to get but stared at it until someone snapped for their attention.
This morning, as I walked down the halls, no one was there to make me feel self conscience. The rooms were even empty, except for a few teachers who'd got there early to catch up on grading or meet another student. I stopped by my locker to take out the books I'd need for my first classes of the day, which were Spanish IV and Calculous.
My nails gripped the side of my math book as I tried to conquer everything else I was carrying on my other hand, but the Spanish dictionary got the best of me and everything escaped from my arms. My Spanish binder, Spanish book, dictionary, Calculous notebook, textbook, and binder fell onto the floor with a giant "smack".
I sighed, brushing my bangs out of my face and beginning to reach down. However, someone else beat me to it and recieved all my books in one hand, making me seem like a weakling. As I stood back up and my hair sweeped back into my eyes I recognized the person's face. It was Henry, a guy in my Spanish class. I'd gone to school with him since fifth grade but never really spoken to him. I was shy.
"Thank you," I spoke softly as I nervously accepted my things. My eyes swayed back and forth between his eyes and the floor. It was hard for me to look people in the eyes, especially guys.
"No problem. Football's good for one thing at least," he lightly chuckled at his own joke and I noticed his eyes and how they sparkled when he moved. It must have been the light.
I quickly looked away when he looked at my eyes. "Ha, ya." Was that the best I could do? I was useless in conversations.
"You know, I'm suprised we haven't really talked much. We've been in the same classes since fifth grade." He was so lying. He shouldn't be suprised at all. No one talked to me because I never talked to them.
"Oh, well...I guess I'm just shy." My cheeks were probably turning pink.
"You're really pretty, you know that?" he looked closer at my eyes. "It's strange how blue your eyes are. Do you wear contacts?"
Has he ever heard of personal space? I backed away a little. "No, I don't."
"Oh, wow. Well, you're eyes are really pretty."
"Thanks."
He laughed lightly again. "You're not much of a talker, are you?"
I looked up at him and shook my head, holding my books a little tighter against my chest. "I have to go," I smiled once, not showing my teeth, and hurried off to the main hallway where the guys would be.
One thing I hated was one-on-one conversations with people I never talked to. They were awkward, mainly because of me, and I never felt confortable with the person. Almost like I was being judged for a contest or studied.
"Hey, Keira!" Jordan shouted from across the hall as he and the other two made their way through a sea of plaid. "Where were you?"
"My locker. I dropped my books and Henry was helping me."
They noticed my stiffness and Jordan gave me a light hug, then wrapped his arms around me. "Maybe you should take gym."
I punched his shoulder and the other two cracked up.
"Let's go to my locker," David nudged toward the acedemic hallway and we followed.

Beautiful laughter and rich kicks is what keeps these kiddies going.
I closed my locker at the end of the day, ready to head home so I could start my load of homework. There was a croup of laughing people standing a few lockers down from mine, gabbing about a party in New York Saturday. Unable to move fast enough I was called into their circle by Rebecca, the elite girl of the junior class.
"Keira!" she called for me, waving her tanned arm full of gold bangels. She was a few inches shorter than me, and when I stood next to her she felt it, and she hated it.
"Ya?" I asked in a high soprano voice. I love to mess with her if I had to communicate with her.
Her smile turned into a tiny scowl, but she forced another one through. "There's a party going on Saturday in New York. You're welcome to come, if you don't already have plans."
"I'm busy Saturday, sorry."
"Oh, don't apologize. But, if you don't mind me asking," she put her hand on her chest, "what are your plans instead?" It was as if nothing more important could be going on in my life that would stop me from going to the party.
I stopped myself from rolling my eyes. "My mother is hosting a benifit on the Upper East Side that I have to attend." I flashed my award winning grin, hoping she would blow up.
Her cheeks turned red with envy. "Oh." Her eyes roamed down to my shose, then back up to my face, which was still smiling innocently. "Well, I'm sorry to hear that." She tured her back to me again. The conversation was obviously over.
Even if I did'nt have something to go to that night, I wouldn't attend the party. Nothing could make me attend any party, even dinner parties were hard to go to. My stomach fliped just thinking about it. A bead of sweat formed on my forehead and I wiped it off, and then walked towards the parking lot where the guys would be.
"Hey, we were gonna go to the beach, wanna come?" Jasper cleared his throat and slammed his trunk shut.
I looked at David, who was putting his hood up as it started to drizzle, and then at Jordan as he put his arm around my shoulder and kissed my shoulder.
I tensed up under his body, as if it were the first time he's touched me. It wasn't, though, it was the millionth, but I never got used to it. He knew it made me uncomfortable but he insisted that it was the only way to get me used to it again. He thought he was protecting me by caring for me. Wrong.
"Okay, let's go to the beach." I weaseled out of his grip, trying not to offend him while I did so. He just sighed and started his car.
We all drove in our separate cars to the beach, which was only a few miles away. It was drizzly and windy, with a light layer of fog resting over the sands. The waves were a cold blue, turning white as they crashed into the beads of sand, revealing bubbles and small shells when the wave descended back into the ocean.
It was February and the air was very cold, which made it hard to enjoy the beauty of the beach. Instead, we all bundled up in our heavy coats and scarves, sipping starbucks and talking about California and how nice it would be right now.
David and Jasper were drifting towards one end of the beach while Jordan and I were walking along the sands at the other end.
"So, I can't believe we're already juniors." He kicked a shell that was already broken at the edges.
I looked up from the sand, suprised to see that he was looking straight at me. "I know. Time goes fast."
"But not fast enough." His voice trailed off as he took a breath in and exhaled. I watched the white breath escape his mouth and dissapear.
"What do you mean?"
"It doesn't seem like you're getting any better."
I immidiatly shot my head down and pretended to be very interested in the waves.
He noticed my change of behavior and took a different appraoch. "I thought you'd get over what happened if I just gave you time. But it doesn't seem like that's helped. You still don't love me."
I looked back up, my eyebrows moving in. I tried to say I did love him but nothing came out. I just stared at him, trying to articulate what he needed to hear. But I was unable to, so I just said, "I just need more time."
"More time? You've had a whole year, Keira. I understand it's a hard thing to get over but I thought you'd at least move on a little." His eyes were pleading and I desperatly wanted to kiss him, but I knew I couldn't.
"Jordan..." I tried. "Please, I don't want to talk about this anymore." I walked a slighly different way, closer to the water.
"Well, I do. It's not like anything besides that happened! You didn't get pregnant or anything!" his voice raised.
I closed my eyes for a moment and felt the cold breeze against my cheek. "I'm going home."
When I walked away he didn't stop me. He didn't even try.