The Past is Only the Future with the Lights On

"Illinois? Please. More like Idaho," I spat dismissingly, stabbing the lettuce in front of me with my plastic spork as I glared at the girl across the cafeteria, currently laughing at something the boy sat suspiciously close to her had just said.

Every now and then, Frank would glance over at the table I was sitting at with Mikey and Dahlia, our eyes would connect for a millisecond and he'd go back to flirting with Victoria, as he had been all of homeroom as well.

Well, I was right about the jealousy. This was way worse compared to when he was dating Taylor.

I felt like storming over there, pulling that chick's too-real-for-my-liking hair and telling her to walk her fugly-ass back to Illinois. I was just so frustrated, I wasn't sure how to react to this whole situation.

"Someone's jealous," Mikey noted with a suspicious edge in his voice.

His comment immediately made me pull my narrowed stare from the two sat across the room and to the two knowing smirks sat next to each other. I dropped my spork on my tray, unable to eat at the moment, not that I had done much of it to begin with.

"I'm not jealous," I argued, watching both of them shake their heads out of the corner of my eye; I had looked over at Frank again. "I'm just pissed."

Although, even that seemed like a bit of an understatement for how I was feeling.

This all goes back to the day at Atlantic City. It was my fault I had all of these mixed feelings going through me at the same time. It was my fault I allowed myself to get so close to someone who could never feel the same for me. And it was my fault I hadn't at least tried to tell him how I felt once I realized it. Then, as impossible as it seemed in my eyes, I at least hat that little chance of being the one in Victoria's position.

I don't think I've ever hated myself more than I did now.

"Why don't you try talking to him about it?" Dahlia suggested, just trying to be helpful, as a good friend would.

Oh, why didn't I think of that? That's right, I did. But he's being the stubborn one and ignoring me.

"He won't listen," I said, sounding so sure of myself, slouching in my seat and staring at my crossed arms.

"Kel, you don't know that unless you try. Now, I am perfectly aware of what an ass Frank can be at times, but I also know the respect that boy has for you. Try talking to him again, even though I know you never did the first time, and I'm sure you two will be able to work this whole thing out," Dahlia told me.

I glanced from her to Frank, then back to her, unsure of whether or not I should believe that what she'd said would work.

With a sigh, I stood up, sliding my messenger bag strap onto my shoulder and grabbig the tray of food that I'd barely touched to throw away. "Fourth period," I promised her. There, it would just be the two of us, no distractions.

A couple meaningless, white lies that you tell yourself is just going to be a one time deal, and they become a dirty habit. Sometimes even worse than smoking, depending on how bad you have it. I was on my way to having it worse than that.

Too scared to confront Frank personally, I bailed out on PE - one of the two classes in our new schedule that had remained the same; along with my favorite class - just as he had during our last fight. Only I didn't even make it to the changing room after lunch.

"He loves me, he loves me not, he loves me. . .he loves me not," I mumbled to myself from under the large, silhouette of the oak tree, where I'd been sitting for about the last three hours, pulling the final petal from the surprisingly well blossomed flower.

This was something I'd always do in my mom's garden when I was little. She'd work for hours outside, trying to get the array of different flowers just as she'd want them, then I'd come around, usually wearing some of the clothes or heels I'd stolen from her closet to play dress-up in. And with my tiny, PB&J covered hands from the sandwich she'd just made me, I'd pull the stem of the one I liked most from the dirt and either wear it behind my ear, just so I could hear her warm voice tell me it looked so cute, or something along the lines of that, or I'd do the old, "he loves me, he loves me not," thing with it. And not once did she get mad at me.

Things were so simple back then. As a kid, I'd based love on the number of petals a flower had.

Now there's so much drama involved, sometimes I just wished I could get away from it all. Is that what I was doing here? Trying to get away from reality? 'Cause my flower had just told me Frank doesn’t love me - hey, maybe this was reality then. I'd just escaped the drama.

Reaching forward in the wet, cold grass to kill another flower, a voice suddenly entered my train of thought.

"There you are. What're you doing out here, Kelly? It's freezing," Frank said, coming from around the huge tree until he was stood next to my cross-legged form.

I hadn't even noticed just how cold it was until he'd said that.