Why Wouldn't She?
3,195
You’d think I’d be stronger than this. I guess I’m not. I guess I’m too weak. I guess.
My eyes watched as they left the room that used to be smothered with lights and music. I realized I wasn’t watching them, I was watching him. He didn’t even turn around. Nothing; I thought I was more than that. I wanted to be more to him, I couldn’t care less about what the rest of the damn world thought. I wanted him to care.
He makes me sick. Why do I feel like I need him? I’m like a fish out of water. I gasp for air. I’ve been hurt, but no one helps me. They talk amongst themselves. I want to cry.
“Why would you think she hates you?” I texted him on Mitch’s phone.
I set it down beside me on the couch. Mitch was sitting so close to the TV you’d wonder how he didn’t go blind.
I was having a conversation with him over Mitch’s phone, I pretended to be Mitch. The phone vibrates and I pick it up. I slide it open and click on the middle button to open the text. His name pierces me in the stomach. I reread the text about a million times.
“Why wouldn’t she?”
The words are sharp. He’s right; but I wish he didn’t know that.
I hate him, but I miss him. I want to be around him all the time, and that’s what kills me. Saying goodbye is hard, seeing him everyday is harder.
Sometimes I’ll be sitting down in class and I’ll feel a stare. I turn to him and he’s looking at me. He’s looking right into my eyes, but he doesn’t turn away. I don’t turn away either. For that moment, I feel like everything is okay again. Neither of us cracks a smile, but I’m smiling inside. It’s brighter and bigger than ever before.
Sometimes I’ll be sitting in class and I’ll be laughing with some friends. I don’t think of him. They move closer to us, him and his friends. They laugh like us. I can see him looking at me. He’s wondering if I notice. He’s wondering if I get his hint about him not needing me. He doesn’t need me; and that’s what kills me.
Sometimes I’ll sit beside his friends on the bench in gym. We’re always on the same team. I talk to his friends and he looks away. He watches the other people play. I keep looking at him; I want him to be interested in our conversation. I want him to look at me. He doesn’t. He never does.
He talks to them. He’s talking about me. He’s saying, “She’s a bitch”. He’s saying, “I hate her”. He’s saying everything he means. I hear it, doesn’t he notice? He wouldn’t notice me. He doesn’t care about me; anymore. I feel empty and used. I want him to be on my side, like he was before. What did I do?
I pretend it doesn’t bother me. I tell everyone I can’t stand him. I wanted them to think I was strong; I wanted him to think I was strong
“He’s an asshole,” I tell everyone, “I can’t stand him!”
He smirks at me on the bus. I smirk back and yell, “Is that the best you got?”
I read the text messages he’s sending me. We’re having a fight via text message.. I really just want to scream in his face. He won’t let me. He’s protected by his own little shield. I want a shield like that; maybe his words wouldn’t cut me then.
“Pathetic,” he mutters as he walks past me. He doesn’t look at me.
I tell my friends some shit about him. I wanted to look strong, I wanted to feel invincible.
That was a long time ago. I try and put it behind me, but it’s what ruined everything.
We.
Don’t.
Talk.
Any.
More.
And I can’t stand it.
He’ll talk to his friends and I’ll over hear. I’ll hear his voice and close my eyes. I feel like I’m flying, because that’s how he used to make me feel.
I smiled today. I don’t remember why, but he was looking at me. He was looking right at me. It wasn’t like the stares before, it was different. He was smiling too. For the second my eyes darted over at him, we were smiling together, and then they quickly looked away. I could feel his stare and I knew we’d gone back to normal. It was the best smile I’ve ever shared.
It’s Halloween. He avoids me still. He still thinks I’m pathetic. I don’t talk to him, I don’t look at him and I don’t ever want to be friends with him.
I work at the candy table at the dance. I sell stuff for our graduation trip. I nicknamed myself
“Money Hands”, because I’m so fast at getting people change. I’m working with Mae, one of them. He comes up to the table and leans on it; he’s facing us. He says something but the music is too loud and I can’t understand him. I don’t think I need to because it’s directed to Mae, but I’m nosy and want to hear.
“How much are you?” he finally says loud enough. Mae laughs. They shared a laugh. I stand awkwardly near the end of the table. I don’t laugh. I don’t find him funny anymore.
I sat outside with Mitch. It was our lunch break. I tell Mitch what I think of him. Mitch looks through the little window placed in the doors that lead inside our school. Mitch opens the door and talks to some of his friends. I continue talking. Mitch shuts the doors in a hurry and folds his lips. Mitch glares at me and I freeze. Mitch didn’t tell me he was inside listening to me.
I still don’t talk to him. I see him ahead of me in the halls. I walk right in between him and his friend. I interrupt his conversation. I make him think of me. I don’t look at either of them. They both look at me; I can feel them watching me as I continue to walk down the halls. It feels like they have lasers from their eyes. I don’t turn around even though that is what I’m dying to do. I leave without saying a word. I hope he thinks I’m strong.
He sat beside me. I didn’t say anything to him and he didn’t say anything to me. We just sat there. Mitch says he misses being my friend. I wish I could tell Mitch I miss being around him, but I can’t. I don’t want him to know I miss him like he misses me. I’m going to be stronger. I don’t know why, but I want to prove to him I’m stronger than he thinks. I won’t cave. He isn’t trying to be strong. He just wants to be friends and I know that. Why am I trying to be stronger than someone who isn’t trying? Why am I wasting my time? Why isn’t he talking to me?
Mitch is tired of this. Mitch is both our friends. Mitch is done.
“How about you be friends with him again, just to see how he acts,” Mitch begs me, “if he’s a jerk, then at least you tried to be friends. That’s all I ask.”
I agree, and Mitch texts him. Mitch places the phone on my lap and I shake my head. Mitch wants me to talk to him. I don’t want to. I’ve been doing a good job of avoiding him, considering we have all the same friends, I can’t give in now.
The phone vibrates.
A slow hand that belongs to me picks it up. It feels like déjà vu and I get a sick feeling. I don’t want to forgive him. I’m not ready to forgive him. Maybe if I wasn’t rushed I could forgive him on my own, but that isn’t an option. I slide up the phone and click the middle button.
“I don’t know, I might regret it later.”
I almost throw the phone at the wall, but Mitch rescues it from my hand. I scream into a pillow from my couch. I’m about to rip it. Mitch rescues that too, because it’s not mine. It’s my mother’s and she won’t be too happy if I eat her pillow. Mitch keeps telling me to calm down, but I’m furious. I want to know how he’d regret it.
Mitch sits me on the couch and tells me to relax. I try. Mitch tells me to ignore him. Mitch tells me he doesn’t mean it. Mitch tells me he’s trying to be cool. I know he is trying to prove to me he’s strong. All this time I thought I was playing a rigged game, but I guess he knew what he was doing all along. He’s always going to be one-step ahead.
I “forgave” him.
I wonder why he stares at me. I think he can see right through me; he sees how much I miss him. I don’t look at him for too long. I’m afraid he might be able to tell. I always manage to meet his eyes. No matter what class, no matter what day, no matter what time, I meet his eyes.
And.
It.
Makes.
Me.
Nervous.
We’re sitting in someone’s basement. He has his arm around me. I don’t get up and move, I don’t push him away. I think this is what I wanted, but I’m not sure. I’m not sure of myself anymore. We’re watching a horror movie. I jump and he laughs. I laugh too, because I feel like an idiot. He’s making jokes and I laugh at them. I can laugh at them. It feels good to laugh with him. I think he’s funny again.
Mitch pokes me in my side and winks at me. I laugh and roll my eyes. He and I aren’t anything but friends and that’s all we’re going to stay; and that kills me.
I don’t trust him, but I still feel like I need him. More than anything I want that to disappear. More than anything I want to erase everything we’ve done; but I can’t.
He’s hurt me too much.
Sometimes I’ll text his friends. I talk about anything I can think of. I hope he’ll get brought up. He never does.
I want to talk about him. They’ll know what he’s thinking, and that makes me eager. I don’t ask about him. I don’t want them to know. They’ll let him know; and I’ll be destroyed.
Mitch is telling me to forgive him. Mitch says he didn’t say anything. I don’t seem to care anymore. Mitch brings him up. I thought I wanted that; I don’t. I don’t want to talk about it with Mitch. Mitch jokes about me and him, Mitch is right. Mitch says everything I feel. Mitch doesn’t know that.
I’m afraid to tell anyone. I’ve put so much anger against him, people will die of shock. I don’t know why I push him away; I need to. I need to keep him away as much as I need him. I don’t know what my next move is.
We’re all outside at the park. We’re all having fun; our friends. I stole his sunglasses and I was wearing them.
“You think my sister’s hot?” my brother says to his friend in disgust.
My brother tells me, and I feel disturbed.
He walks over to my brother’s friend; our friends follow. I try to slide into the circle, but the only place I can is beside him, so I suck it up.
“You hitting on my girl?” He says. My stomach twists a little.
Our friends laugh. This is how he always acts. I wish he wouldn’t act like this now. I desperately want to take off his sunglasses.
“She’s your girlfriend?” My brother’s friends asks.
He pauses and grins. I stand there awkwardly, because I don’t know what to do. Usually I laugh and say, “we’re not going out.” I didn’t this time. My mouth wouldn’t say the words. I’m glad I didn’t take off his sunglasses, now no one can see my eyes. No one can look into them. I feel like they can see right through them, though. That scares me.
“One of them,” he replies, jokingly.
“I don’t get it,” our friend says. He stares at him blankly.
He didn’t look at me once and I’m glad, because I know I might have broken.
I’m sitting on the gym floor. He’s not beside me, but I see him. I shake in my short sleeve shirt. I kind of want to wear his sweater. I don’t ask, because Mitch will tease me. I don’t ask, because I’m scared of what he’ll say.
He takes it off and leaves it on the bench. I want to run and grab it, but I don’t. She picks it up. She puts it on. She’s one of them. She looks warm. I wish I didn’t know that he’d say no to me. I wish I knew it’d be a yes, just like she knew. She knows no one of the opposite gender has enough guts to stand up to her. I don’t understand why.
I think he’s trying to make me jealous, and its working. She’s definitely trying to make me jealous, and it’s working. I don’t show it. I don’t even look at them, because I want them to think I’m strong. I take it in.
We’re at Mitch’s house; our friends. I don’t sit beside him. He’s acting like himself.
He’s joking around like usual. He’s trying to kiss me. I sit on the couch beside one of our friends. One of our friends holds me down. I shake my head and my arms, trying to get loose. I’m laughing.
Everyone else is too.
Mitch tells me to relax, he won’t do anything. I try and he kisses me.
“I got her!” he laughs.
I sit there. I don’t have any emotion.
“Yeah, on the cheek,” Mitch says. Mitch wants to be right, but Mitch is wrong.
He shakes his head, “actually, on the lips.”
And I don’t forget it; and that kills me.
I sit in music. Mitch has moved beside him. He is three seats down from me. Our friends are in between us. Mitch is on the end, so when I talk to Mitch he sees me. Our friend will do something funny, and we’ll both laugh. He looks at me, but I pretend I don’t see him. I pretend I don’t give a damn about him. I pretend he doesn’t mean shit to me and it feels good. While I’m pretending I feel invincible.
Then.
I.
Lose.
All.
Control.
So I look straight ahead of me. I focus on the blackboard. I focus on the notes I need to play; but he’s still there. I watch him in the corner of my eye and he’s looking at me.
I wonder what’s going through his head. I wonder if he’s really missing me. He’s stronger than that, I guess.
It’s almost Christmas. Mitch and I have to introduce the acts for our school Christmas concert. I’m nervous.
I’m getting clammy and gross, and I don’t know what to do. Some of our friends come and talk to Mitch and I before we begin. They wish us luck and I thank them, but I don’t care. I don’t see him.
We have to begin. I speak as slowly and as clearly as I can. Mitch doesn’t look half as nervous as me and I’m glad. Mitch calms me down. I think we did great.
Mitch and I get to leave. I see him in the hall. He doesn’t talk to me, just to Mitch.
“Did you see us?” Mitch asks.
He shakes his head. I get hurt.
“Oh,” I say quietly.
He looks at me. “I tried getting in, but I couldn’t. There were too many people.”
“Sure, whatever,” I joke. Mitch laughs.
He says, “You know I tried my best to see it.”
And I feel better. I feel wanted; and I feel like I’m flying.
I don’t know how to feel anymore.
We’re sitting in gym, again. It’s just me, him and Mitch. We’re talking about something, and it leads to something else. Something way off topic.
I’ve heard it; people tell me all the time. I ignore it; I don’t want it true.
But sometimes I think it is.
“You know what you did,” I say.
He doesn’t say anything and neither does Mitch. We sit there awkwardly.
I’m losing myself.
Mitch comes over. We’re hanging out in my living room again. Mitch tells me stuff. Mitch tells me stuff about him.
“I don’t know,” Mitch sighs, “but people have told me he’s saying shit about you. I’m sure they’ve told you too, right?”
I don’t say anything. People have told me. My hearts sinks into my stomach and I want to scream. I just want to break something, but there isn’t anything for me to grab. I don’t know if it’s true, but I just have a really good feeling it is. He’s told me shit about other people then been friends with them, so why wouldn’t he do the same to me?
Mitch pulls me in for a hug. I need it.
I don’t know what to do anymore.
It’s Spring Break. Well, almost. Mitch walks home with me. One of them comes up to me.
“Why are you mad at him?” they ask.
I just shrug.
“Just tell me,” they say.
“He’s fake and two-faced. I know he say all this shit about me, so please tell him if he’s going to say shit don’t be my friend after. I’m tired of people talking about me,” I reply.
And they don’t say anything else. They simply stop walking; Mitch and I carry on.
I’m done waiting for him.
I want to know if it’s all worth it, because I really don’t think it is.
First day back and he knows. He doesn’t talk to me; this is when the stares started. Our friends keep coming to my desk and asking me why I hate him. I think he’s sending them over. I wish he knew I couldn’t ever actually hate him, no matter how many times I say it.
I want him to ask me himself. I want him to get off his fucking pedestal and ask me. He doesn’t care.
“I don’t care!” he says as he raises his hands in the air.
This is the moment I wish that I could hate him. I can’t hate him, and that’s what’s breaking me. I wish I wasn’t this weak. I hope we can pretend I don’t care as much as he doesn’t. Although, I can only pretend for a while; and that’s what kills me.
I don’t think he’s funny anymore; and that’s what kills me.
My eyes watched as they left the room that used to be smothered with lights and music. I realized I wasn’t watching them, I was watching him. He didn’t even turn around. Nothing; I thought I was more than that. I wanted to be more to him, I couldn’t care less about what the rest of the damn world thought. I wanted him to care.
He makes me sick. Why do I feel like I need him? I’m like a fish out of water. I gasp for air. I’ve been hurt, but no one helps me. They talk amongst themselves. I want to cry.
“Why would you think she hates you?” I texted him on Mitch’s phone.
I set it down beside me on the couch. Mitch was sitting so close to the TV you’d wonder how he didn’t go blind.
I was having a conversation with him over Mitch’s phone, I pretended to be Mitch. The phone vibrates and I pick it up. I slide it open and click on the middle button to open the text. His name pierces me in the stomach. I reread the text about a million times.
“Why wouldn’t she?”
The words are sharp. He’s right; but I wish he didn’t know that.
I hate him, but I miss him. I want to be around him all the time, and that’s what kills me. Saying goodbye is hard, seeing him everyday is harder.
Sometimes I’ll be sitting down in class and I’ll feel a stare. I turn to him and he’s looking at me. He’s looking right into my eyes, but he doesn’t turn away. I don’t turn away either. For that moment, I feel like everything is okay again. Neither of us cracks a smile, but I’m smiling inside. It’s brighter and bigger than ever before.
Sometimes I’ll be sitting in class and I’ll be laughing with some friends. I don’t think of him. They move closer to us, him and his friends. They laugh like us. I can see him looking at me. He’s wondering if I notice. He’s wondering if I get his hint about him not needing me. He doesn’t need me; and that’s what kills me.
Sometimes I’ll sit beside his friends on the bench in gym. We’re always on the same team. I talk to his friends and he looks away. He watches the other people play. I keep looking at him; I want him to be interested in our conversation. I want him to look at me. He doesn’t. He never does.
He talks to them. He’s talking about me. He’s saying, “She’s a bitch”. He’s saying, “I hate her”. He’s saying everything he means. I hear it, doesn’t he notice? He wouldn’t notice me. He doesn’t care about me; anymore. I feel empty and used. I want him to be on my side, like he was before. What did I do?
I pretend it doesn’t bother me. I tell everyone I can’t stand him. I wanted them to think I was strong; I wanted him to think I was strong
“He’s an asshole,” I tell everyone, “I can’t stand him!”
He smirks at me on the bus. I smirk back and yell, “Is that the best you got?”
I read the text messages he’s sending me. We’re having a fight via text message.. I really just want to scream in his face. He won’t let me. He’s protected by his own little shield. I want a shield like that; maybe his words wouldn’t cut me then.
“Pathetic,” he mutters as he walks past me. He doesn’t look at me.
I tell my friends some shit about him. I wanted to look strong, I wanted to feel invincible.
That was a long time ago. I try and put it behind me, but it’s what ruined everything.
We.
Don’t.
Talk.
Any.
More.
And I can’t stand it.
He’ll talk to his friends and I’ll over hear. I’ll hear his voice and close my eyes. I feel like I’m flying, because that’s how he used to make me feel.
I smiled today. I don’t remember why, but he was looking at me. He was looking right at me. It wasn’t like the stares before, it was different. He was smiling too. For the second my eyes darted over at him, we were smiling together, and then they quickly looked away. I could feel his stare and I knew we’d gone back to normal. It was the best smile I’ve ever shared.
It’s Halloween. He avoids me still. He still thinks I’m pathetic. I don’t talk to him, I don’t look at him and I don’t ever want to be friends with him.
I work at the candy table at the dance. I sell stuff for our graduation trip. I nicknamed myself
“Money Hands”, because I’m so fast at getting people change. I’m working with Mae, one of them. He comes up to the table and leans on it; he’s facing us. He says something but the music is too loud and I can’t understand him. I don’t think I need to because it’s directed to Mae, but I’m nosy and want to hear.
“How much are you?” he finally says loud enough. Mae laughs. They shared a laugh. I stand awkwardly near the end of the table. I don’t laugh. I don’t find him funny anymore.
I sat outside with Mitch. It was our lunch break. I tell Mitch what I think of him. Mitch looks through the little window placed in the doors that lead inside our school. Mitch opens the door and talks to some of his friends. I continue talking. Mitch shuts the doors in a hurry and folds his lips. Mitch glares at me and I freeze. Mitch didn’t tell me he was inside listening to me.
I still don’t talk to him. I see him ahead of me in the halls. I walk right in between him and his friend. I interrupt his conversation. I make him think of me. I don’t look at either of them. They both look at me; I can feel them watching me as I continue to walk down the halls. It feels like they have lasers from their eyes. I don’t turn around even though that is what I’m dying to do. I leave without saying a word. I hope he thinks I’m strong.
He sat beside me. I didn’t say anything to him and he didn’t say anything to me. We just sat there. Mitch says he misses being my friend. I wish I could tell Mitch I miss being around him, but I can’t. I don’t want him to know I miss him like he misses me. I’m going to be stronger. I don’t know why, but I want to prove to him I’m stronger than he thinks. I won’t cave. He isn’t trying to be strong. He just wants to be friends and I know that. Why am I trying to be stronger than someone who isn’t trying? Why am I wasting my time? Why isn’t he talking to me?
Mitch is tired of this. Mitch is both our friends. Mitch is done.
“How about you be friends with him again, just to see how he acts,” Mitch begs me, “if he’s a jerk, then at least you tried to be friends. That’s all I ask.”
I agree, and Mitch texts him. Mitch places the phone on my lap and I shake my head. Mitch wants me to talk to him. I don’t want to. I’ve been doing a good job of avoiding him, considering we have all the same friends, I can’t give in now.
The phone vibrates.
A slow hand that belongs to me picks it up. It feels like déjà vu and I get a sick feeling. I don’t want to forgive him. I’m not ready to forgive him. Maybe if I wasn’t rushed I could forgive him on my own, but that isn’t an option. I slide up the phone and click the middle button.
“I don’t know, I might regret it later.”
I almost throw the phone at the wall, but Mitch rescues it from my hand. I scream into a pillow from my couch. I’m about to rip it. Mitch rescues that too, because it’s not mine. It’s my mother’s and she won’t be too happy if I eat her pillow. Mitch keeps telling me to calm down, but I’m furious. I want to know how he’d regret it.
Mitch sits me on the couch and tells me to relax. I try. Mitch tells me to ignore him. Mitch tells me he doesn’t mean it. Mitch tells me he’s trying to be cool. I know he is trying to prove to me he’s strong. All this time I thought I was playing a rigged game, but I guess he knew what he was doing all along. He’s always going to be one-step ahead.
I “forgave” him.
I wonder why he stares at me. I think he can see right through me; he sees how much I miss him. I don’t look at him for too long. I’m afraid he might be able to tell. I always manage to meet his eyes. No matter what class, no matter what day, no matter what time, I meet his eyes.
And.
It.
Makes.
Me.
Nervous.
We’re sitting in someone’s basement. He has his arm around me. I don’t get up and move, I don’t push him away. I think this is what I wanted, but I’m not sure. I’m not sure of myself anymore. We’re watching a horror movie. I jump and he laughs. I laugh too, because I feel like an idiot. He’s making jokes and I laugh at them. I can laugh at them. It feels good to laugh with him. I think he’s funny again.
Mitch pokes me in my side and winks at me. I laugh and roll my eyes. He and I aren’t anything but friends and that’s all we’re going to stay; and that kills me.
I don’t trust him, but I still feel like I need him. More than anything I want that to disappear. More than anything I want to erase everything we’ve done; but I can’t.
He’s hurt me too much.
Sometimes I’ll text his friends. I talk about anything I can think of. I hope he’ll get brought up. He never does.
I want to talk about him. They’ll know what he’s thinking, and that makes me eager. I don’t ask about him. I don’t want them to know. They’ll let him know; and I’ll be destroyed.
Mitch is telling me to forgive him. Mitch says he didn’t say anything. I don’t seem to care anymore. Mitch brings him up. I thought I wanted that; I don’t. I don’t want to talk about it with Mitch. Mitch jokes about me and him, Mitch is right. Mitch says everything I feel. Mitch doesn’t know that.
I’m afraid to tell anyone. I’ve put so much anger against him, people will die of shock. I don’t know why I push him away; I need to. I need to keep him away as much as I need him. I don’t know what my next move is.
We’re all outside at the park. We’re all having fun; our friends. I stole his sunglasses and I was wearing them.
“You think my sister’s hot?” my brother says to his friend in disgust.
My brother tells me, and I feel disturbed.
He walks over to my brother’s friend; our friends follow. I try to slide into the circle, but the only place I can is beside him, so I suck it up.
“You hitting on my girl?” He says. My stomach twists a little.
Our friends laugh. This is how he always acts. I wish he wouldn’t act like this now. I desperately want to take off his sunglasses.
“She’s your girlfriend?” My brother’s friends asks.
He pauses and grins. I stand there awkwardly, because I don’t know what to do. Usually I laugh and say, “we’re not going out.” I didn’t this time. My mouth wouldn’t say the words. I’m glad I didn’t take off his sunglasses, now no one can see my eyes. No one can look into them. I feel like they can see right through them, though. That scares me.
“One of them,” he replies, jokingly.
“I don’t get it,” our friend says. He stares at him blankly.
He didn’t look at me once and I’m glad, because I know I might have broken.
I’m sitting on the gym floor. He’s not beside me, but I see him. I shake in my short sleeve shirt. I kind of want to wear his sweater. I don’t ask, because Mitch will tease me. I don’t ask, because I’m scared of what he’ll say.
He takes it off and leaves it on the bench. I want to run and grab it, but I don’t. She picks it up. She puts it on. She’s one of them. She looks warm. I wish I didn’t know that he’d say no to me. I wish I knew it’d be a yes, just like she knew. She knows no one of the opposite gender has enough guts to stand up to her. I don’t understand why.
I think he’s trying to make me jealous, and its working. She’s definitely trying to make me jealous, and it’s working. I don’t show it. I don’t even look at them, because I want them to think I’m strong. I take it in.
We’re at Mitch’s house; our friends. I don’t sit beside him. He’s acting like himself.
He’s joking around like usual. He’s trying to kiss me. I sit on the couch beside one of our friends. One of our friends holds me down. I shake my head and my arms, trying to get loose. I’m laughing.
Everyone else is too.
Mitch tells me to relax, he won’t do anything. I try and he kisses me.
“I got her!” he laughs.
I sit there. I don’t have any emotion.
“Yeah, on the cheek,” Mitch says. Mitch wants to be right, but Mitch is wrong.
He shakes his head, “actually, on the lips.”
And I don’t forget it; and that kills me.
I sit in music. Mitch has moved beside him. He is three seats down from me. Our friends are in between us. Mitch is on the end, so when I talk to Mitch he sees me. Our friend will do something funny, and we’ll both laugh. He looks at me, but I pretend I don’t see him. I pretend I don’t give a damn about him. I pretend he doesn’t mean shit to me and it feels good. While I’m pretending I feel invincible.
Then.
I.
Lose.
All.
Control.
So I look straight ahead of me. I focus on the blackboard. I focus on the notes I need to play; but he’s still there. I watch him in the corner of my eye and he’s looking at me.
I wonder what’s going through his head. I wonder if he’s really missing me. He’s stronger than that, I guess.
It’s almost Christmas. Mitch and I have to introduce the acts for our school Christmas concert. I’m nervous.
I’m getting clammy and gross, and I don’t know what to do. Some of our friends come and talk to Mitch and I before we begin. They wish us luck and I thank them, but I don’t care. I don’t see him.
We have to begin. I speak as slowly and as clearly as I can. Mitch doesn’t look half as nervous as me and I’m glad. Mitch calms me down. I think we did great.
Mitch and I get to leave. I see him in the hall. He doesn’t talk to me, just to Mitch.
“Did you see us?” Mitch asks.
He shakes his head. I get hurt.
“Oh,” I say quietly.
He looks at me. “I tried getting in, but I couldn’t. There were too many people.”
“Sure, whatever,” I joke. Mitch laughs.
He says, “You know I tried my best to see it.”
And I feel better. I feel wanted; and I feel like I’m flying.
I don’t know how to feel anymore.
We’re sitting in gym, again. It’s just me, him and Mitch. We’re talking about something, and it leads to something else. Something way off topic.
I’ve heard it; people tell me all the time. I ignore it; I don’t want it true.
But sometimes I think it is.
“You know what you did,” I say.
He doesn’t say anything and neither does Mitch. We sit there awkwardly.
I’m losing myself.
Mitch comes over. We’re hanging out in my living room again. Mitch tells me stuff. Mitch tells me stuff about him.
“I don’t know,” Mitch sighs, “but people have told me he’s saying shit about you. I’m sure they’ve told you too, right?”
I don’t say anything. People have told me. My hearts sinks into my stomach and I want to scream. I just want to break something, but there isn’t anything for me to grab. I don’t know if it’s true, but I just have a really good feeling it is. He’s told me shit about other people then been friends with them, so why wouldn’t he do the same to me?
Mitch pulls me in for a hug. I need it.
I don’t know what to do anymore.
It’s Spring Break. Well, almost. Mitch walks home with me. One of them comes up to me.
“Why are you mad at him?” they ask.
I just shrug.
“Just tell me,” they say.
“He’s fake and two-faced. I know he say all this shit about me, so please tell him if he’s going to say shit don’t be my friend after. I’m tired of people talking about me,” I reply.
And they don’t say anything else. They simply stop walking; Mitch and I carry on.
I’m done waiting for him.
I want to know if it’s all worth it, because I really don’t think it is.
First day back and he knows. He doesn’t talk to me; this is when the stares started. Our friends keep coming to my desk and asking me why I hate him. I think he’s sending them over. I wish he knew I couldn’t ever actually hate him, no matter how many times I say it.
I want him to ask me himself. I want him to get off his fucking pedestal and ask me. He doesn’t care.
“I don’t care!” he says as he raises his hands in the air.
This is the moment I wish that I could hate him. I can’t hate him, and that’s what’s breaking me. I wish I wasn’t this weak. I hope we can pretend I don’t care as much as he doesn’t. Although, I can only pretend for a while; and that’s what kills me.
I don’t think he’s funny anymore; and that’s what kills me.