Birdie
Day Twenty-Three
He smells like a lolly, sickly sweet and a little addicting, addicting enough to make me breathe in the scent again and again burning it to my memory. I have never smelt anyone as good as Eli smells at the moment and that makes me feel awkward, like I am painfully away of my hands and what I am doing with them, clutching the whiteboard with white knuckles.
In the past few days the whiteboard has yet to leave my side, it makes communication, which for a while was impossible, possible. My parents think the whiteboard is the work of a genius, but I'm not so sure. I don’t think Eli is by any stretch of the imagination a genius, a tainted kid with too much time on his hands yes, a genius not so much. I stare at the supposed genius who is leaning back in his chair with his feet planted firmly on the lunch table a small smirk on his face as he watches me.
I am not sure why he is smirking I am starting to think it might be an instinctual thing when he gets anxious or feels awkward. And I can tell as he plays with his fingers, cracking the knuckles one at a time, that he is nervous and anxious and just a little bit awkward, which makes me feel better about feeling so awkward myself.
He has the most perfect lips I notice as I stare at him with a hint of mystification, he seems to pretty to be true and that makes my heart hurt a little. His lips are prettier than mine and maybe a year ago I might have been jealous but right now I am sad because I am noticing sad boys and their lips.
I am not sure if Eli is sad but I can’t think of any other reason he has taken such a shine to me. Maybe he understands and that makes my heart beat faster for a brief second but the feeling is soon gone and I am left playing with a thread on my over sized sweater, the one with a deer embroidered on the front.
“So that test was killer huh?” He asks me with a small smile one that tells me he regrets his words instantly, they sound lame even to me and that strikes me as funny. I nod my head not sure if Eli expects me to answer him or if he is used to me silence. I think he might be used to it, for the past three days he has sat with me at lunch and asked me varying personal questions, none so far about Alison but I know he is desperate to know, a part of me is desperate to tell.
I don’t answer him but I write in my pink texter with a sore heart a question that has been on my lips for the past three days, why are you sitting with me?
Eli laughs a little chuckle when he reads the words, “Why not?” he asks and I give him a look that makes him laugh loudly, a few heads turn to stare at us with a look of shock, all probably wondering what the silent girl could have possibly done to make him laugh. I think they are disappointed when they see that I haven’t spilt my drink down my sweater or choked on a piece of pizza, and I hate them all.
I want to tell Eli not to sit with me but I don’t talk and I am too tired to rub off the words on my board so I sit next to the boy silently wishing he would leave me alone. Eli reminds me of Alison he has the same carefree laugh she did and it makes me hurt so bad to sit next to him and listen to the musical chime of his laugh. I want to throw my pizza across the room and flip every chair in this cafeteria hall until I am out of breath and tears but I don’t, I sit quietly looking at Eli waiting for something to be said.
“Birdie, if you want me to leave you can tell me” the nickname feels familiar and foreign all at the same time and sends a deep pang through my heart, I am suddenly desperate to know the time and have Eli stop staring at me so damn intently.
I need to count, I fidget with the loose string on my sweater pulling the thread until I feel a small give and I know I am creating a hole. But I can’t stop my fingers from pulling even though I know the damage I am causing and that strikes me as what Ali must have felt when she swallowed that bottle of pills.
I use the back of my hand to wipe the message from the board and reply to Eli, please don’t leave me. And I mean it more than he can ever understand because I am so lonely, so lonely and sad. And I need someone to see through my silence and to my sadness so they can save me. I need someone to save me but Eli smiles and I know he doesn’t get it. He doesn’t get my sadness and somehow in a crowded hall I feel more alone than ever, and that makes me sad, really sad and all of a sudden I am tired. Tired enough to sleep for a thousand years and tired enough to collapse, and oh how I want to so somebody will see I am not okay, but I don’t.
I don’t dare collapse because Alison would never have accepted a show of weakness in front of all these people, she was nothing if not strong. But I am not Alison and I am weak, oh so weak, and I lay my head on the cool metal table my heart beating in my throat and reminding me how unlike Ali I truly am.
I hate myself and for the briefest second I hate Alison and that leaves me gasping for air, terrified I can no longer remember how to breathe, I do but I wish I had forgotten.
In the past few days the whiteboard has yet to leave my side, it makes communication, which for a while was impossible, possible. My parents think the whiteboard is the work of a genius, but I'm not so sure. I don’t think Eli is by any stretch of the imagination a genius, a tainted kid with too much time on his hands yes, a genius not so much. I stare at the supposed genius who is leaning back in his chair with his feet planted firmly on the lunch table a small smirk on his face as he watches me.
I am not sure why he is smirking I am starting to think it might be an instinctual thing when he gets anxious or feels awkward. And I can tell as he plays with his fingers, cracking the knuckles one at a time, that he is nervous and anxious and just a little bit awkward, which makes me feel better about feeling so awkward myself.
He has the most perfect lips I notice as I stare at him with a hint of mystification, he seems to pretty to be true and that makes my heart hurt a little. His lips are prettier than mine and maybe a year ago I might have been jealous but right now I am sad because I am noticing sad boys and their lips.
I am not sure if Eli is sad but I can’t think of any other reason he has taken such a shine to me. Maybe he understands and that makes my heart beat faster for a brief second but the feeling is soon gone and I am left playing with a thread on my over sized sweater, the one with a deer embroidered on the front.
“So that test was killer huh?” He asks me with a small smile one that tells me he regrets his words instantly, they sound lame even to me and that strikes me as funny. I nod my head not sure if Eli expects me to answer him or if he is used to me silence. I think he might be used to it, for the past three days he has sat with me at lunch and asked me varying personal questions, none so far about Alison but I know he is desperate to know, a part of me is desperate to tell.
I don’t answer him but I write in my pink texter with a sore heart a question that has been on my lips for the past three days, why are you sitting with me?
Eli laughs a little chuckle when he reads the words, “Why not?” he asks and I give him a look that makes him laugh loudly, a few heads turn to stare at us with a look of shock, all probably wondering what the silent girl could have possibly done to make him laugh. I think they are disappointed when they see that I haven’t spilt my drink down my sweater or choked on a piece of pizza, and I hate them all.
I want to tell Eli not to sit with me but I don’t talk and I am too tired to rub off the words on my board so I sit next to the boy silently wishing he would leave me alone. Eli reminds me of Alison he has the same carefree laugh she did and it makes me hurt so bad to sit next to him and listen to the musical chime of his laugh. I want to throw my pizza across the room and flip every chair in this cafeteria hall until I am out of breath and tears but I don’t, I sit quietly looking at Eli waiting for something to be said.
“Birdie, if you want me to leave you can tell me” the nickname feels familiar and foreign all at the same time and sends a deep pang through my heart, I am suddenly desperate to know the time and have Eli stop staring at me so damn intently.
I need to count, I fidget with the loose string on my sweater pulling the thread until I feel a small give and I know I am creating a hole. But I can’t stop my fingers from pulling even though I know the damage I am causing and that strikes me as what Ali must have felt when she swallowed that bottle of pills.
I use the back of my hand to wipe the message from the board and reply to Eli, please don’t leave me. And I mean it more than he can ever understand because I am so lonely, so lonely and sad. And I need someone to see through my silence and to my sadness so they can save me. I need someone to save me but Eli smiles and I know he doesn’t get it. He doesn’t get my sadness and somehow in a crowded hall I feel more alone than ever, and that makes me sad, really sad and all of a sudden I am tired. Tired enough to sleep for a thousand years and tired enough to collapse, and oh how I want to so somebody will see I am not okay, but I don’t.
I don’t dare collapse because Alison would never have accepted a show of weakness in front of all these people, she was nothing if not strong. But I am not Alison and I am weak, oh so weak, and I lay my head on the cool metal table my heart beating in my throat and reminding me how unlike Ali I truly am.
I hate myself and for the briefest second I hate Alison and that leaves me gasping for air, terrified I can no longer remember how to breathe, I do but I wish I had forgotten.