The Hollow Days

I couldn't get out of English faster, I fumbled to put everything in my backpack and headed off to my last class, Geometry. I hate math, but anything to just be out of a class where no one can bother me. Like Emma. I don't need her in my business at all hours. Two classes is enough. I don't care if she cares about me, or if she wants to befriend me. I don't need it, I don't need her sympathy. I don't want it, either. I just want her to make new friends already and fuck off. Once she finds new people to hang around with, she'll figure it out. She'll find out that I'm not someone that she needs to worry about, that she wants to worry about, or surround herself with. After doodling my way through Geometry, I snuck past the crowd and was the first one on my bus. I sat in the same seat I had in the morning.

I turn up the volume on my music. I didn't want to see Emma's face again. Not that she wasn't pretty, some people might even consider her beautiful. She had these high cheekbones and a sculpted nose that wasn't too pointy but it was just narrow enough. Her brown eyes were a chocolate color and her hair was this soft gold. I just hate people, especially people like her. She'll probably be a future therapist or something, and I hate them. I watch her get on, and am disgusted that the first thing her eyes go to is me.

My nails dig into my jeans and I feel this unbearable fire in my chest that makes me want to rip her head off. I want to disappear under her intrigued gaze; I felt like a bug under the microscope. "Do you have to look at me like that?" I snap at her, and see it was a mistake because instead of sitting all the way up against the window in the seat next to mine, she sits on the edge, prepared to talk to me.

"Huh? Like what?"

"Like I'm a freak." My glare remains as I study her and I decide to continue, "you have no idea who I am." What I've been through, what I've seen, how I feel, I want to add.

"You're right, I don't. I never said I did." She says boldly but I watch her lip quiver, and she knows I see it. She leans forward desperately, "and hey! You have no idea who I am either! It's not fair for you to make so many assumptions when we've never even talked."

The way her chin jutted out when she was trying to make a point was cute, I had to admit that. "Well it's even less fair for you to base your assumptions on what you've only heard." I mutter, looking out my window, turning my music up even more. I could hear her voice – barely – as she questioned me or came up with lame excuses when she knows I'm absolutely right.

Then I feel her grab my arm. She had the softest skin I'd ever even felt. I hesitantly jerk my arm away, but I sure do, with a hiss off my tongue, "don't touch me!"

"I asked what you meant!" She throws her hands up in exasperation and then sighs, frustrated. "No one has told me anything about you, Elliot."

My eyes widen. "I'm sorry, then."

"Wow." I cringe at her tone of awe. "Are you actually apologizing for snapping at me?"

I sink in my seat, averting my gaze once again to the pavement speeding by as I murmur, "no, sorry that no one has told you yet."