Of Confidence

Her body was numb. She lay back in his pillows as she let the note slip through her fingers and flutter lightly to the brown wood floor. Her eyes stared at the plain white wall that made his ceiling, and the emptiness of the canvas resembled that of her heart.

Everything hurt. Her eyes were red, dried out from the lack of sleep she had the evening before, for she was too preoccupied to even contemplate sleep. Her arm muscles were sore from gripping his body so close to hers. Her lips were swollen, small bruises on her neck from where his lips had made their mark. The private parts between her legs throbbed; they always said the first time hurt.

But none of the physical pain could even compare to what she was feeling inside. First, she felt lucky; lucky that he had even cared to leave a note in the first place, let alone with her favorite flower. Most girls would have woken up with his scent, and his mark on their limbs and nothing more.

Then, she felt cheap; yeah, he had left her a note, but he had still left. He didn't have the balls to stay and face her. He had taken everything she had left and she trusted him, but she was nothing more than his monthly fix.

Third, she felt like a hypocrite; this was everything she had ever dreamed of, well besides the end, but having him be the one to have her in the most intimate ways was exactly what he had wanted. She had begged, and prayed for him to be her first forever, and now she took it back.

Then, she felt furious; he knew that this was her first time. He had known what it had meant to her. He had known that she wanted him to be the one who took her virginity. But, he also knew that she wanted him to be there in the morning. He knew she wanted to discuss the new foundation, and step they had taken, but he left. He couldn't do it.

Melanie collapsed into John's pillow as the tears cascaded down her cheeks.

She felt broken; and she knew there was no one left who she could trust to fix her.

______________________________________________________________

Melanie lifted her body out of the lukewarm water that filled her bath tub and wrapped a lilac towel around her petite frame. She couldn't help to notice the puffy red eyes that adorned her face as she walked by her mirror.

She walked down her hallway and closed out the sounds of her parents and her sister down at the table finishing their dinner. She had excused herself, claiming she wasn't feeling well, while her family assumed she was upset that the boys had left that day without her getting to say goodbye.

Melanie felt her heart bulge when she thought of the boys leaving; she didn't get to say goodbye to anyone.

Just before her tears were about to revive, she felt her phone vibrate as a text message appeared on her screen.

I'm sorry you weren't feeling well enough to come see us. John told us about how you were throwing up all night. I hope it wasn't the diner food I bought you for lunch yesterday. We're safely in California, playing the show soon. I love you and you should text me so I know you're alive? <3 Kennedy

She was throwing up all night. Melanie threw her phone into her bed spread, balling her fists. John told everyone she was "sick."

He wouldn't dare tell them about the balls that he lacked. He wouldn't tell them about how he used her to get sex. He wouldn't dare tell them that he broke her heart. And he wouldn't dare tell them that he knowingly did it, and he still left.

I'm glad you're safe, and I'm alive. But I've been better. She typed back to Kennedy, laying her nearly naked body in her sheets.

She pulled her blankets closer to her body as her bedroom door opened, letting a strong amount of light from the hallway into the room.

She shielded her eyes, "What do you want, Haley?"

Her sister walked into her room, sitting on the edge of her bed. "What's going on, Melanie? I'm your sister...I know that this isn't just because John left."

Melanie felt her breath catch when she said his name. She pulled up her phone and pretended to text, hoping that her sister would think she was totally okay. "Nothing. It's just weird he's not here."

"You can lie to mom and dad all you want. But, I don't buy it," Haley replied. She moved closer to her, looking at the skin that Melanie's cell phone light shone on. "Oh my Gosh, Melanie. Is that a hickey?"

Melanie quickly laid her hand over her neck, but realized she couldn't cover all the spots that John had been. "Uh-Uhm, no."

Haley laughed, "You and John had sex, didn't you?"

It was only a few seconds before tears made their way back onto Melanie's cheeks. She sat up, leaning towards her sister, and buried her face in her hands. "I-it was supposed to be special. I thought it was..."

Haley was silent, watching as her sister fell into an uncontrollable sob, her fragile body bouncing up and down, her breath getting more troubled. "He left you?" She asked quietly.

Melanie tentatively shook her head, and she turned her eyes to her sister's matching baby blue skies. "He was gone."

Haley wrapped her arms around her and Melanie felt her lips near her ear. "John O'Callaghan has never been known to stay."

She gave her one more sympathetic glance before Melanie watched her younger sister exit her door and leave the room.

Melanie picked her cell phone back up, opening it to Kennedy's response.

Five minutes! I wish you were here<3

She felt a small smile on her lips as she thought of Kennedy's excitement; no doubt he was fidgeting his fingers like he always did when he was nervous.

Tell Garebear, Pat, and Jared good luck. And good luck to you, Kenny.

No John?

Tell him to break a leg.

She smiled at the ironic message; she had never wished pain on John before, but now it's all that she could ever hope for.

_____________________________________________________________

"In less than two months, you will all be walking across the stage accepting the diploma that Principal Ashworth will be handing you, leaving your high school days behind," Mr. Schwartz began. "We won't be here to tell you to do your work, your parents won't be there to guide you through heart breaks, most of your friends will disappear into their own lives. Nothing is the same beginning June 7."

Melanie twirled her finger as her Creative Writing teacher gave the seniors a speech before their last paper. No one really listened as the man spoke, they all liked him, sure, but they all had better things on their minds.

The girls behind her talked about the new color of their nail polish, and how the left side of Kristen Tyler’s thumb nail was already peeling. The football players to her left discussed more productive ways to create the perfect play. Melanie tried not to constantly think about reapplying make up to the marks on her neck and shoulders. She would’ve worn a turtle neck if it wasn’t too hot.

“There are many things in your life we wish we could change,” Mr. Schwartz continued.

Melanie chuckled to herself, isn’t that right?

She felt a tap from her right as she turned to face Bryan Cook smiling at her. His blond hair was ruffled on his head, his blue Hollister t-shirt accenting his green eyes. “Hey, Melanie.”

She smiled as she looked back to her paper, continuing the doodle of people that were originally supposed to be notes on the new assignment. “Hey, Bryan.”

“Are you going to prom this year?” He smiled.

She felt her stomach turn as she thought of the event that was in only two weeks. “Yeah, are you?”

“I am. I am. You don’t seem so excited?” Bryan chuckled, noticing that her voice dropped when she said she would be attending the event.

She shrugged her shoulders. “I guess proms just aren’t really my thing.”

“Maybe you’re just not going with the right date,” he said, picking up a pencil and twiddling it between his fingers. He put it behind his ear and leaned forward to where his elbows rested on Melanie’s desk.

“Those are pretty flowers,” he laughed, sarcasm in his voice.

Melanie looked down to the flowers she had drawn on the paper and felt a blush creep up on her cheeks. She looked at the adolescent drawing she had created. Two small, cute, if you asked her, stick figures stood next to each other; a boy on the left, and a girl on the right. All that stood between them were flowers; daisies, her favorite. “Are you making fun of my wonderful drawing, Bryan?”

He chuckled and sat back in his desk, leaning against the bar that connected the chair and the table top, “Never,” he grinned through his teeth.

Just before Melanie could reply the whole class came to attention when Principal Ashworth’s voice came over the loudspeaker.

“Hello students, so as you all know Prom is in only two weeks away which means it is time to start voting for your Senior Prom Queen and King!” Quiet cheers, and giggles from girls around the room erupted as their principle continued. “The nominees for King are as listed: Jason Clarion, Braden Russell, Bryan Cook, and Christopher Baker. The nominees for Queen are: Melissa Renton, Shiloh Claremont, Kristen Tyler, and Melanie Hendricks.”

Melanie felt as butterflies arose in her stomach when all the room turned to look at her with a smile on their face. Bryan slapped her on the back with a smile on his face. “Maybe you can be my Queen,” he laughed.

She laughed along with him, secretly knowing she desperately hoped to lose. She didn’t want any attention on her. She may have hung out with the “popular” crowd, but she had never liked having all eyes on her. She hated that people wished they were like her. She hated that girls tried to style their hair, or buy a blazer that looked like hers. She couldn’t even figure herself out, why would they want to be like that?

Mr. Schwartz snapped at the class, regaining their attention and Melanie felt Bryan lean back away from her and into his desk. “So now, your assignment: I want you each to write a letter to yourself, looking back on your past seventeen or eighteen years of life. Look back on your memories, and your nightmares that you’ve experienced these past years. Give yourself advice on the things you wished you could change, and how if you could change them how different your life would be now.”

Melanie bit her bottom lip as she pictured the one thing she could change most; trusting him.