Chasing Ever After
Sadie.
Aren’t you just falling in love with him again?
Annie’s voice repeats over and over again inside my head. And then I see her face in my mind: I imagine her crying silently that night, trying to cover up her face so I wouldn’t see.
Maybe I’m just overreacting.
“Hall…”
But what if she really was crying? Did she and Carter fight during the dance? Or maybe I did something wrong.
“Hall!”
Startled, I look up to see Mr. Fletcher, just some substitute science teacher, towering over me.
“Mr. Fletcher, umm, I’m so sorry, what were you saying?” I say, flustered. Everyone in class is looking at me. I exchange glances with Annie, and she glances back, worried sick.
“Is there something wrong, Hall? You aren’t paying attention to my class.”
I bite my lower lip. “I’m sorry. I’m all right, just…I have a headache, sir. May I please excuse myself?”
After I went to the restroom to wash my face, I see Jack leaning against the wall just outside his class from afar. And then by some twisted fate, he yawns and stretches and, just before I made my dramatic escape, notices me.
He starts walking.
And I start walking.
My craptastic heart is making a big fuss over this. My palms are starting to sweat. Should I just turn back? But no, he’s looking at me, and I’m looking at him. And I can’t control my feet—somehow they’re leading me towards Jack.
Aren’t you just falling in love with him again? Aren’t you just falling in love with him again? Aren’t you just falling in love with him again? Aren’t you just—
“Hey,” he greets. We are now face to face, in the middle of the seemingly endless corridor of school torture.
“Hi,” I reply awkwardly.
“So…” Jack breathes in and out, and I prepare myself for whatever he’s going to say. “Haven’t talked to you in a while.”
Well, I have been actually avoiding him since the dance. Meeting him unprepared is like going to war with no weapon whatsoever.
“Yeah, I know, sorry.” Smooth, Sadie. “Why are you out here? No class?”
He smiles lopsidedly. “Nah, got asked out for…uh…’daydreaming’.” He makes an air-quote gesture. “I wasn’t. I just didn’t want to listen to that fat-ass teacher blabber about his love for Quantum Physics. Who cares about Physics when his forte should be English? Goddamn that potato.” I chuckle a bit at that. “And you?”
“Same reason. I was…thinking about a lot of things.”
“What, like the load of schoolwork this school requires us to do because it enjoys watching its students suffer in the never-ending pile of numbers and letters and all that crap?”
I avert my eyes.
“Actually…” I begin, nervous. “There’s something I want to tell you.”
He inches closer and grins at me, and then asks, as if mockingly, “Are you going to confess to me again?”
Suddenly, I’m infuriated. And mad. And shit-I-can't-deal-with-this-anymore hurt.
So I push him hard.
“No,” I spat acidly. “I just want to tell you to forget the night I ever confessed to you, for real this time. I’m going to bury my feelings for you to fucking oblivion.”
“Sadie—“ he interrupts, but I cut him off.
“We can be friends, and I will never ever look at you any more than that. And so will you. Forget everything until this conversation and we can go on with our lives as if we’d just met today. Forget the confession, forget the dance. Forget whatever happened between us, because nothing ever did.”
I expect him to laugh or joke around because that’s what he always does—he laughs when I’m serious. He makes fun out of other people’s feelings just because he thinks he’s too great of a person. That’s Mr. Ego for you.
But he doesn’t.
He just stares at me, unmoving. He closes his eyes and then he inhales and exhales slowly. Then he nods.
“Okay,” he says.
“Okay,” I say.
“Friends."
“Friends. And no hard feelings.”
“Okay.”
“That’s all.”
“Okay.”
That’s when he excuses himself and starts walking away.
Somehow, it feels painful to stare at his back as he leaves. I want him to look back, but he won’t. I want to apologize, but I don’t. This is for the best anyway. Because if I don’t do this, then I just might fall in love with him again.
“This is for the best,” I mutter to no one.
It came out like I was trying to convince myself.
Annie’s voice repeats over and over again inside my head. And then I see her face in my mind: I imagine her crying silently that night, trying to cover up her face so I wouldn’t see.
Maybe I’m just overreacting.
“Hall…”
But what if she really was crying? Did she and Carter fight during the dance? Or maybe I did something wrong.
“Hall!”
Startled, I look up to see Mr. Fletcher, just some substitute science teacher, towering over me.
“Mr. Fletcher, umm, I’m so sorry, what were you saying?” I say, flustered. Everyone in class is looking at me. I exchange glances with Annie, and she glances back, worried sick.
“Is there something wrong, Hall? You aren’t paying attention to my class.”
I bite my lower lip. “I’m sorry. I’m all right, just…I have a headache, sir. May I please excuse myself?”
After I went to the restroom to wash my face, I see Jack leaning against the wall just outside his class from afar. And then by some twisted fate, he yawns and stretches and, just before I made my dramatic escape, notices me.
He starts walking.
And I start walking.
My craptastic heart is making a big fuss over this. My palms are starting to sweat. Should I just turn back? But no, he’s looking at me, and I’m looking at him. And I can’t control my feet—somehow they’re leading me towards Jack.
Aren’t you just falling in love with him again? Aren’t you just falling in love with him again? Aren’t you just falling in love with him again? Aren’t you just—
“Hey,” he greets. We are now face to face, in the middle of the seemingly endless corridor of school torture.
“Hi,” I reply awkwardly.
“So…” Jack breathes in and out, and I prepare myself for whatever he’s going to say. “Haven’t talked to you in a while.”
Well, I have been actually avoiding him since the dance. Meeting him unprepared is like going to war with no weapon whatsoever.
“Yeah, I know, sorry.” Smooth, Sadie. “Why are you out here? No class?”
He smiles lopsidedly. “Nah, got asked out for…uh…’daydreaming’.” He makes an air-quote gesture. “I wasn’t. I just didn’t want to listen to that fat-ass teacher blabber about his love for Quantum Physics. Who cares about Physics when his forte should be English? Goddamn that potato.” I chuckle a bit at that. “And you?”
“Same reason. I was…thinking about a lot of things.”
“What, like the load of schoolwork this school requires us to do because it enjoys watching its students suffer in the never-ending pile of numbers and letters and all that crap?”
I avert my eyes.
“Actually…” I begin, nervous. “There’s something I want to tell you.”
He inches closer and grins at me, and then asks, as if mockingly, “Are you going to confess to me again?”
Suddenly, I’m infuriated. And mad. And shit-I-can't-deal-with-this-anymore hurt.
So I push him hard.
“No,” I spat acidly. “I just want to tell you to forget the night I ever confessed to you, for real this time. I’m going to bury my feelings for you to fucking oblivion.”
“Sadie—“ he interrupts, but I cut him off.
“We can be friends, and I will never ever look at you any more than that. And so will you. Forget everything until this conversation and we can go on with our lives as if we’d just met today. Forget the confession, forget the dance. Forget whatever happened between us, because nothing ever did.”
I expect him to laugh or joke around because that’s what he always does—he laughs when I’m serious. He makes fun out of other people’s feelings just because he thinks he’s too great of a person. That’s Mr. Ego for you.
But he doesn’t.
He just stares at me, unmoving. He closes his eyes and then he inhales and exhales slowly. Then he nods.
“Okay,” he says.
“Okay,” I say.
“Friends."
“Friends. And no hard feelings.”
“Okay.”
“That’s all.”
“Okay.”
That’s when he excuses himself and starts walking away.
Somehow, it feels painful to stare at his back as he leaves. I want him to look back, but he won’t. I want to apologize, but I don’t. This is for the best anyway. Because if I don’t do this, then I just might fall in love with him again.
“This is for the best,” I mutter to no one.
It came out like I was trying to convince myself.
♠ ♠ ♠
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