Status: Active!
Behind the Lines
Chapter 2
As soon as the bell rings for the last period before lunch, I head over outside by the Willow tree I was sitting at in the morning. I take out my paper bag that holds my lunch from my bag. Since my mother makes lunch for everyone in the house, except me, I have to fend for myself and make my own lunch. I made a turkey sandwich with some ranch on the bread, and packed a water bottle and an apple.
I sit back against the tree and relax, listening the to the birds sing, drowning out the sounds of chatter coming from behind. I munch on my food while reading Perfect Chemistry by Simone Elkeles, not noticing someone sit by me until they clear their throat.
I am brought out of my zone and look over to the person who so kindly graced me with their presence. Please note sarcasm.
Of course, the person is none other than, you guessed it, Landon Reynolds, the boy I am always trying to forget, but seems like a mission impossible.
I ignore him and turn back to my book and lunch and read away. Knowing I will not make an effort to talk to him, he clears his throat once more and starts to talk.
“How you doing?” he asks, clearly not getting the message that I do not want to talk to him.
“I could be better if you left,” I say bored, not even giving him the pleasure of me looking at him.
“That’s not very nice, Nay,” he says, using my old nickname. Did he really think I am going to be nice and act like nothing happened?
“Never said I was,” I say simply, shrugging my shoulders and taking a bite of my sandwich.
“What are you reading?” he asks after a few moments of an awkward silence that graced our presence. Ha-ha, awkward turtle time!
“I’m reading None of Your Business by Leave Me Alone,” I reply, still not looking at him.
“Sounds like an interesting book. Mind if I borrow it after you are done?” he asks politely, trying to get on my good side. Note how I said trying. He is currently failing in that area.
“Don’t you have anything better to do than annoy me? Why don’t you go and entertain your little minions,” I say sharply, finally looking at him, knowing my eyes are flaming with anger and annoyance.
He flinches a little by my gaze and his everlasting smirk has disappeared replaced with a look of remorse and regret. By what, I do not know. If he felt anything, he should be ashamed for talking to me after three years, trying to apologize when it is clearly too late.
“Nay, please just hear me out…” he starts to say, but I cut him off like usual. I think it is becoming a bad habit of mine.
“I have no patience to listen to your crap. Especially after three years. I don’t want to spend two months together with you for this project, and I know you don’t either. You’re probably only talking to me right now so you don’t feel awkward working with me for the next couple months. So please, spare me the details and get lost. I’d rather get an F on this project than talk to you every day,” I blurt out, not regretting anything I said.
If his face was sad before, it is incredibly sad now. He looks up at me with sad eyes, and in that moment I can tell he is hiding something. I do not know what it is, nor do I want to know. But I can tell that whatever it is, it is hurting him. I am really good at reading people, and since I grew up with Landon, I can read him like an open book, regardless of hating him or not. Something is hurting him… but I can care less. I cannot pity him now after all that has been done. Not now, not ever. I cannot allow to trust him again, only to be broken another time. I already have picked up the pieces of my broken self. If it happens again, this time I will not be able to put myself together.
“Please,” he pleads, his sad blue eyes collecting water in them. Wow, the school’s golden boy crying? That is unheard of. He is always acting like nothing ever hurts him. Like he is the strongest piece of metal out of all. Now he just looks vulnerable and broken. Like how I did three years ago. I know it is bad to keep bringing up the past again, but I lost everything to him. You must be saying, forgive and forget, but I cannot. I have lost my family forever and everyone thinks I did that unforgettable deed. To be known as the girl who committed that crime is the worst feeling ever when you know you never did it. Only Landon and three of his friends know what happened, none of them wanting to confess their guilty. I just happened to walk by, and there I was, in the middle of all that drama, framed.
“I don’t want to hear anything you have to say. Besides, you don’t want your friends to make fun of you for talking to me and having to work with me, so let me save you the embarrassment,” I say, finishing the last of my sandwich and picking up my trash and putting my book in my bag.
I stand up and start to walk back into school, leaving Landon to sit there alone by the tree. I cannot help but wonder why he is so sad. But hey, they say curiosity killed the cat.
I walk to my next period class, though I am a few minutes early, since there are five minutes left in the lunch period. I have painting right now, which I am relieved to day. I do not have Landon in this class, plus painting and drawing really gets my mind off of things. It is like my happy place. No one can judge me or call me names or make me feel like my existence is a mistake. I can finally be me and not have a worry in the world.
As soon as class starts a few minutes later, my teacher, Mrs. Sandler, let’s us get our materials for the project we are currently working on. We have to make a painting portraying our dream paradise. It can be the beach, island, arcade, bar, etc. And then we have to write a paragraph explaining the importance or meaning of our painting. That is the easy part. Painting is the hard part, yet it is so effortless. I guess you really have to be a painter to know how that feels. It is like a great stress reliever. And as I drown myself in the painting, so stress from today starts to fade away.
I start walking my way home after school ends. It takes thirty minutes to walk back home, as I live three miles away. But I cannot take the bus, knowing I am bound for being a victim for bullying, and I do not have a car of my own. My brothers are not close to me anymore, so they never offer rides, even if I am running late. My parents just do not care enough about my safety for walking an hour everyday through the city, so they never drive me. They say I am a growing girl who could use the exercise. Yeah, way to go parents, you just called your only daughter fat. I know I am not—in fact I am a whooping size four—but it bothers me my parents would say that.
I reach home after my treacherous walk, and enter the house. I do not bother saying “Honey! I’m home!” knowing, one, I do not have a “honey” and, two, no one is home. My parents are at work, drowning themselves in work, while my brothers are sweating away at football practice, probably going to a friend’s after to hang out, most likely Landon—the quarterback and team captain—or Mike, Landon’s best friend and the running back.
I go to my room and put my stuff by my desk, taking out the work I need to do for homework.
Three grueling hours of homework and test review later, I go back downstairs and prepare dinner for everyone. No one is home yet, but they will be in an hour, nearing eight o’clock.
I decide to make pizza. I take out whatever I need, prepare it, and then pop it in the oven. Thirty minutes later and the pizza is done. I sit down on the dinner table and eat alone. I finish my two slices in fifteen minutes, and clean up the mess. After I am done with that, I go back up and get ready for bed. It is not even eight yet, but I am too tired to do anything else. I do whatever I need to do before I go to bed. I set the alarm clock for tomorrow morning and lay the covers over me.
Right before I am in deep slumber, I hear my phone vibrating from my bedside. I groan but pick up the phone, telling me I have a new text, which is quite unusual. I open it up to see the number, but do not recognize it, as it is not one of contacts, not that I have that many to begin with.
I open the text which reads,
Please just hear me out. ~Landon <3
I sit back against the tree and relax, listening the to the birds sing, drowning out the sounds of chatter coming from behind. I munch on my food while reading Perfect Chemistry by Simone Elkeles, not noticing someone sit by me until they clear their throat.
I am brought out of my zone and look over to the person who so kindly graced me with their presence. Please note sarcasm.
Of course, the person is none other than, you guessed it, Landon Reynolds, the boy I am always trying to forget, but seems like a mission impossible.
I ignore him and turn back to my book and lunch and read away. Knowing I will not make an effort to talk to him, he clears his throat once more and starts to talk.
“How you doing?” he asks, clearly not getting the message that I do not want to talk to him.
“I could be better if you left,” I say bored, not even giving him the pleasure of me looking at him.
“That’s not very nice, Nay,” he says, using my old nickname. Did he really think I am going to be nice and act like nothing happened?
“Never said I was,” I say simply, shrugging my shoulders and taking a bite of my sandwich.
“What are you reading?” he asks after a few moments of an awkward silence that graced our presence. Ha-ha, awkward turtle time!
“I’m reading None of Your Business by Leave Me Alone,” I reply, still not looking at him.
“Sounds like an interesting book. Mind if I borrow it after you are done?” he asks politely, trying to get on my good side. Note how I said trying. He is currently failing in that area.
“Don’t you have anything better to do than annoy me? Why don’t you go and entertain your little minions,” I say sharply, finally looking at him, knowing my eyes are flaming with anger and annoyance.
He flinches a little by my gaze and his everlasting smirk has disappeared replaced with a look of remorse and regret. By what, I do not know. If he felt anything, he should be ashamed for talking to me after three years, trying to apologize when it is clearly too late.
“Nay, please just hear me out…” he starts to say, but I cut him off like usual. I think it is becoming a bad habit of mine.
“I have no patience to listen to your crap. Especially after three years. I don’t want to spend two months together with you for this project, and I know you don’t either. You’re probably only talking to me right now so you don’t feel awkward working with me for the next couple months. So please, spare me the details and get lost. I’d rather get an F on this project than talk to you every day,” I blurt out, not regretting anything I said.
If his face was sad before, it is incredibly sad now. He looks up at me with sad eyes, and in that moment I can tell he is hiding something. I do not know what it is, nor do I want to know. But I can tell that whatever it is, it is hurting him. I am really good at reading people, and since I grew up with Landon, I can read him like an open book, regardless of hating him or not. Something is hurting him… but I can care less. I cannot pity him now after all that has been done. Not now, not ever. I cannot allow to trust him again, only to be broken another time. I already have picked up the pieces of my broken self. If it happens again, this time I will not be able to put myself together.
“Please,” he pleads, his sad blue eyes collecting water in them. Wow, the school’s golden boy crying? That is unheard of. He is always acting like nothing ever hurts him. Like he is the strongest piece of metal out of all. Now he just looks vulnerable and broken. Like how I did three years ago. I know it is bad to keep bringing up the past again, but I lost everything to him. You must be saying, forgive and forget, but I cannot. I have lost my family forever and everyone thinks I did that unforgettable deed. To be known as the girl who committed that crime is the worst feeling ever when you know you never did it. Only Landon and three of his friends know what happened, none of them wanting to confess their guilty. I just happened to walk by, and there I was, in the middle of all that drama, framed.
“I don’t want to hear anything you have to say. Besides, you don’t want your friends to make fun of you for talking to me and having to work with me, so let me save you the embarrassment,” I say, finishing the last of my sandwich and picking up my trash and putting my book in my bag.
I stand up and start to walk back into school, leaving Landon to sit there alone by the tree. I cannot help but wonder why he is so sad. But hey, they say curiosity killed the cat.
I walk to my next period class, though I am a few minutes early, since there are five minutes left in the lunch period. I have painting right now, which I am relieved to day. I do not have Landon in this class, plus painting and drawing really gets my mind off of things. It is like my happy place. No one can judge me or call me names or make me feel like my existence is a mistake. I can finally be me and not have a worry in the world.
As soon as class starts a few minutes later, my teacher, Mrs. Sandler, let’s us get our materials for the project we are currently working on. We have to make a painting portraying our dream paradise. It can be the beach, island, arcade, bar, etc. And then we have to write a paragraph explaining the importance or meaning of our painting. That is the easy part. Painting is the hard part, yet it is so effortless. I guess you really have to be a painter to know how that feels. It is like a great stress reliever. And as I drown myself in the painting, so stress from today starts to fade away.
I start walking my way home after school ends. It takes thirty minutes to walk back home, as I live three miles away. But I cannot take the bus, knowing I am bound for being a victim for bullying, and I do not have a car of my own. My brothers are not close to me anymore, so they never offer rides, even if I am running late. My parents just do not care enough about my safety for walking an hour everyday through the city, so they never drive me. They say I am a growing girl who could use the exercise. Yeah, way to go parents, you just called your only daughter fat. I know I am not—in fact I am a whooping size four—but it bothers me my parents would say that.
I reach home after my treacherous walk, and enter the house. I do not bother saying “Honey! I’m home!” knowing, one, I do not have a “honey” and, two, no one is home. My parents are at work, drowning themselves in work, while my brothers are sweating away at football practice, probably going to a friend’s after to hang out, most likely Landon—the quarterback and team captain—or Mike, Landon’s best friend and the running back.
I go to my room and put my stuff by my desk, taking out the work I need to do for homework.
Three grueling hours of homework and test review later, I go back downstairs and prepare dinner for everyone. No one is home yet, but they will be in an hour, nearing eight o’clock.
I decide to make pizza. I take out whatever I need, prepare it, and then pop it in the oven. Thirty minutes later and the pizza is done. I sit down on the dinner table and eat alone. I finish my two slices in fifteen minutes, and clean up the mess. After I am done with that, I go back up and get ready for bed. It is not even eight yet, but I am too tired to do anything else. I do whatever I need to do before I go to bed. I set the alarm clock for tomorrow morning and lay the covers over me.
Right before I am in deep slumber, I hear my phone vibrating from my bedside. I groan but pick up the phone, telling me I have a new text, which is quite unusual. I open it up to see the number, but do not recognize it, as it is not one of contacts, not that I have that many to begin with.
I open the text which reads,
Please just hear me out. ~Landon <3