The Remains Of My Wasted Youth.

I had half a mind to try and get out of going to school the next morning. Really, I knew I could if I wanted to. My mom would jump at the idea of keeping me home for a little bit longer. If it had been up to her, I would have finished all of my high school education at home, and then some. But I'd been eager to go to school and make new friends, and my dad had sided with me.

But last night, when I'd come home in tears and ran to my room, my mom had freaked out all over again. She'd tried her best to hide it from me, but late at night, when I'd thought everyone was sleeping, I'd crept downstairs and overheard a conversation that caused my head to spin round and round again.

"Stop coddling him, Isobel. He isn't five anymore, you can't protect him from everything that the world is going to throw at him. Things are going to happen. He's going to get hurt, he's going to do the hurting. He's not going to be perfect. But we're going to be here for him. And I'm betting you that someday, somewhere, he's going to find someone else who will make him happy and who will be there through anything."

"There are also several going to be people who would like nothing more than to destroy him. I can't let that happen."

"You can't stop it, either. Didn't two years ago teach you that? You weren't there, I wasn't there. There was only one person there who could tell us what really happened - and you never even talked to him, not once. He was suffering, too. He lost someone and can never get them back. We still have Alex. Yes, he's not the same. But we can get him back. We still have our baby."

"This time, we do. What about next time?"

"Why does there have to be a next time?"

"There won't be, if we just keep him home. Or better yet, let's take him back to England. He was safe there, he was HAPPY."

"He was happy here once, too. What's to say he can't be happy again?"

There'd been several long minutes of silence, and then my mom's voice, full of fear and sorrow, whispered "What if he remembers?"

And for that, my dad had had no answer. I'd fled back to my room, terrified of being caught, wanting to be caught, terrified to know what was going on, desperate to know what was going on. They'd been talking about me. And someone else. Someone nameless, faceless. Someone who'd lost something, the way my parents had almost lost me, from what I understood.

I'd been happy here before. As far back as I could remember, we'd lived in England. My parents had never actually said we had never lived anywhere else, so I guess it was possible that we'd lived here while I was a small child. Maybe something had happened and that's why we'd moved to England. But ... that didn't explain the allusion to two years ago.

Sighing, I dropped my head into my hands and focused on my more immediate problem. I was going to have to go to school and face Rian, Jack, and Zack. They'd obviously hated my song, and as much as I tried to kid myself, rejection in any form hurt. Especially when it came to my music, because my music meant more to me that anything else in the world
.
It was going to be a long day.

****************************************

It figured that the first person I'd see in a school of several thousand was Jack Barakat. Not that I could really miss him. He was wearing a ridiculous get-up of deep purple skinny jeans, a green t-shirt, and an orange hoodie that would have looked stupid on anyone else but him. On him, he looked like an ice cream cone.

But my eyes were drawn to the moody, silent boy beside him. It surprised me that Jack was friends with the kid from English - Zachary. Jack seemed so full of life, while Zack looked like a part of him was dead.

I shook my head, reminding myself not to judge someone based on their looks. I kept my head down as I manuevered through the crowds, hoping to avoid detection. Whispers followed me as I moved down the hallway. There had been whispers yesterday, too. It all came with the package deal of being a new kid.

I made it to my locker and to English just as the bell rang, and thankfully I slid into my seat without making eye contact with anyone. Jack had moved his desk closer to mine, I noticed, but I didn't look his way and my body language made it obvious that I didn't want to talk.
Still, it wasn't more than ten minutes into the lesson before I felt a bony finger tap my knee.
I looked up and found the melted chocolate eyes much closer than I'd anticipated.

"Are you okay? You ran out of there pretty fast last night ..." Jack hesitated. "I hope you didn't take Zack's lack of response .. I mean, he didn't mean that he didn't ... it wasn't that your song wasn't good ... it just touched a nerve. It reminded Zack of something he went through, that's all. Nothing personal The song was amazing."

So Zack could relate to my song. He didn't hate it. I don't know why, but the thought made me giddy and I smiled wide at Jack. "I'm glad you liked it." I sombered quickly enough though. "I'm sorry that Zack went through something like that ... but he's not alone. I went through something horrible, too. And so do so many others."

Jack just stared at me and I kept ranting. "That's why I wrote that song, you know. To help other people realize that they're not alone."

I was embarrased after I said this and kept to myself for the rest of class. As the bell rang, I saw a shadow in the doorway. It was Zack.

He motioned me over, and I didn't think twice. "Y-yes?" I stuttered, hating myself for it.

"Can you meet me at lunch? I'd like to talk to you about something." His words were direct and to the point, lacking emotion and simply formal, but there was a slight flicker of something in his eyes, and it was the burning curiosity to learn what it was that hid beneath the surface that had me saying yes before I knew what I was doing. My instincts screamed at me to stay away but as usual, I didn't listen.

He nodded after I'd accepting, and I went to turn away, but he caught my hand. His touch burned through me, setting my body on fire instantly.

"Hey.. Alex. I'm sorry for last night. You're amazing - I mean, your music is amazing. It takes courage to write about something that so obviously still bothers you. It takes even more to sing it to strangers. You're pretty lucky. I think, honestly, you've got the guts to say anything. I wish I did."

And then he left, leaving me breathless and hopeful.