What Is Life Without a Purpose? What Is Purpose Without Love?

"Did you really get with her?"

This was the second time I've been asked today. Somebody knew about last weekend. And I needed to find out who, before the entire school found out.

"Is that really any of your business, Timothy?"

Tim hated being called by his full name, I had found out last year.

"Whatever." He turned back around to face the front, leaving me alone once again.
And then, the blonde Alex, whom sat beside me, walked in, taking his seat. And he gave me that look- him, too, asking whether or not me and Aubrey had happened.

"Alex." I squinted at him, almost glaring. "Don't even."

He raised his hands defensively in front of him saying "Okay, I got it."

I would ask Alex how he knew later at lunch, considering I sat near him.
Because I could actually stand Alex enough to talk to him about it without getting pissy.

I didn't have this class with Tom so there wasn't anyone that I really wanted to talk to. Apparently everyone else couldn't say the same; by the end of second block I had been asked two more times. So make that four times today.

I was getting anxious waiting for lunch as I walked to biology, while also getting worried about who in that class had also heard.
Hopefully no one that hadn't already asked me. I was almost praying.

But nope. The first thing I hear as I sling my bag over my chair, is someone behind me-it didn't even matter who, I knew their intention- saying, "hey Aus. Nice." I turn around to find a hand poised for a high five.

I glared, stating lowly, "don't call me Aus," before walking out of the room. I heard Tom behind me, asking where I was going, but I didn't answer.
I ended up in the single stalled bathroom, that way no one would walk in.
I leaned against the wall for a few minutes, just thinking. That then turned into me watching myself in the mirror, not looking at anything in particular.

I knew I shouldn't have done it. And this was exactly why. Now people would assume all the wrong things about me, and Aubrey would probably end up getting hurt somewhere along the line.
This sucked. Did the whole fucking school know or something? Because I barely even knew two of the people that had commented on the event, and I'm pretty sure neither did Aubrey. So how would they know?

I ran my hands roughly through my hair, sighing heavily, deciding I was good enough to go back to class.
I entered the room again with a not much different vibe than when I had left; only this time, with an actual glare that meant to tell everyone "don't even think about it."
And it worked. Not even the teacher questioned where I had been the past ten minutes, which was okay with me.
I guess even Tom picked up that I didn't feel like talking because he didn't even try to through the whole class. He stuck to himself, and I stuck to writing some of my favorite lyrics over and over in my notebook as usual. My cursive was getting pretty damn great.

-&-

Lunch, of course, took forever to get to. Biology seemed to drag on today- probably because I was eager to leave. That always happened.

But now I was sitting at our table on the back side of the cafeteria, tapping my foot impatiently while waiting for Alex to make himself comfortable in his chair. Once situated, I dared to ask.

"How do you know?"

"Know what?" He asked around a mouth full of his sandwich.

"Who told you about Aubrey?" I started playing with my fries, drawing a frown in my ketchup.

"Dude, she's the one that started it. I mean, she didn't tell me, but she is."

"Are you serious?"

"Would I lie about this?" He cocked an eyebrow at me, taking another bite.

"I guess not." I sighed, resting my head on my hand, staring down at the mess I had made on my tray.
It looked like a bloody frown.
It looked how I felt.
That probably doesn't make sense, but it gave off a major sense of just "ugh." And my whole day was pretty much "ugh," too.

Why would she tell anyone about that?
How did she know anyway? She never remembered those nights, after she couldn't walk two feet without falling, and talking in slurred, unknown language. Why did it have to be this time that she did?

And that was nobody else's business.
Should I talk to her? What would I even say?
I could probably make how I feel towards her known better by completely ignoring her. Even though she was nice, how she acted got annoying and I never wanted to talk to her much anyway, but I was always sure to be nice to her just because it was the nice thing to do. But not now.
Lunch was going to be extremely awkward when everyone got here. Everyone including Aubrey, who was now making her way to sit down.
I cast my eyes down to my tray in a glare, stabbing at the vegetables piled in the corner. I thought I heard Alex choke a little; I could picture him spitting a little chocolate milk and that was funny but I still wasn't going to look up. And then Tom was here, sliding in next to me. Then everyone else who sat at the table was there and no one was talking. I could feel the tension I was probably creating with my murderous actions towards my food; along with everyone's eyes focusing on Aubrey and I. I can't believe she dared to sit in the chair next to me, honestly.
Unless.
Well, she didn't know I knew it was her.
I picked my head up slowly, looking at her- not very nicely, I might add. My face was blank, but that kind of blank look someone gives you when you know they're down right furious. And she didn't look very proud, then.
She had to know I knew now; I mean, who didn't?
And if it wasn't clear to her-with the way I shrunk back and ignored her, glaring the entire time-that I knew, she would soon.

-&-

My phone buzzed on my pillow near my head, letting me know Tom had replied to my texts.

"If you know she did it I'd bitch her out, go for it."

I had told him what happened; explaining from this weekend until today. Including how unhappy I was.

Now that I had the final decision made for me, I could go through with "bitching her out."
I sent him back a short reply and went to my contacts, finding her name.

Here goes nothing.

"Do you have something to tell me?" I sent her.

I could picture her now; sitting, her face getting pale as she read my message. I hope she's scared.

It was a few minutes before I got a reply.

"about what?"

"You've got to be fucking kidding me. You know what."

Like she didn't know what I was talking about. Right.

I could just feel my bitchiness coming out.

"Why don't you explain."

Oh, I would explain alright.