Love Is a Serious Mental Disease

Monday morning, I drag myself out of bed. Mom told me she was going to work early so I didn't wait for her to greet me in the kitchen like she usually did.

Today, I would have to see Peter for the first time in two days, and I'm not sure if I'm ready or not. It doesn't matter if I'm not ready because we sit beside each other in Geometry. It's an inevitable situation.

I get dressed in a T-shirt illustrating the logo for my favorite band: Red Night Rave. I've listened to them on the outdated iPod I got as a birthday gift five years ago.

I grab a granola bar and a pour myself a tall glass of milk. I'd have to take the school bus to school today since I'm sure Peter won't be around to pick me up. I'm not sure where we stand at the moment or if I'm still mad at him or not.

I haul my wrapper in the trash can and put my glass in the sink before walking out the door, backpack in hand. As soon as I shut the door behind me, I see the bus backing up across the street from my apartment building. I fly down the stairs and out the building door. Luckily, the bus driver sees me and waits patiently while I bustle through the rocky pavement in my thin-heeled black boots.

When I get in the bus, I'm sure my unruly hair is poking out of my carelessly loose bun. These two heavy-duty girls snicker to themselves and I manage to hear them barely whisper, "Ew! Look at those hooker boots."

I've been listening to people make rude comments about me for most of my life, so I let it go. I found it's easier to let it go pretending they apologized instead of actually waiting for it.

I pick a seat at the very back of the bus. Why isn't the back occupied? Isn't the back the most favored seat. As I stand by my seat, I find a very good reason why no one would sit here. The stench is putrid. I want to pick another seat but I see the impatient looks of the students so I sit, cringing inwardly about the thought of sitting here for the next twelve minutes.

The bus gave me plenty of time to think about my situation with Peter. About the kiss, and the--the porn. Being in my sheltered life, I wouldn't know if I was supposed to be accustomed to teenage boys viewing pornogrophy. I thought only my cousin Ron did that.

So what if he does watch porn? That's not really any of my buisness. And he didn't know I was going to have a meltdown. I can still make it work.

I have it all planned out. I'll apologize to him at lunch. Maybe we could go out for fro yo afterwards and forget it ever happened.

All through my A.M. classes, I couldn't concentrate. I was trying to think of exactly what I would say. Finally, when the bell rang for lunch, I ran out of my class to grab my lunch which was in my locker.

I grabbed the paper bag containing apple sauce, a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, and chocolate milk. Usually, my mom made me three pb&j sandwiches and bottled water. I used to get made fun of for it and people thought I had a crazy sandwich obsession. No, my mom's just broke as hell! I had wanted to scream out.

I was practically running to lunch when I stopped in my tracks. I remembered how bad my hair had looked earlier this morning, and I want to fix it. I rush to the restroom and my lunch falls to the floor. I freeze. My breathing hitches. My heart drums against my ribcage like it's going to break it. Peter... my words slur and I don't think I even heard myself.

"Peter..." His lips break away from her neck. Her blonde bob is tangled in his hand. His eyes widen at the sight of me and his face is as white as a ghost's. The lipstick is all over him like a second skin.

I hurry out of the restroom so they wouldn't see this. Instantly, hot tears stream down my face.

Stephanie towers over me with a smirk on her face. I lift my balled hands up, and she snorts. "What're you going to do? Hit me? Are you sure you can afford for that to happen?" she spits.

I lower my hand to cover my face. "What can I say? He's pretty hot now. You had your chance. You should've done him dirty--if you know what I mean. Fun fact, did you know he's not a virgin anymore?" I hear her laugh and the click of her boots as she scamperes away.

My back slides down the wall with my hands still concealing my face. As more tears pour down my face, I began to choke. A moment later, I hear soft footsteps nearing me and I just know it's Peter's. I don't want any apologizing from him because right now, they mean absolute shit.

"I'm sorry,Scar. If I'm going to be totally honest right now, you were just the best I could get when I was fat. I'm sure there will be another guy out there for you. I just have so many options now. So...bye, I guess." My sadness now mixed with anger. I wanted to dissolve in my ocean of tears and also punch something.

I get up and run to the restroom nearly slipping on my sandwich that fell on the floor. I slam the stall door and lock it before sitting on top of the toilet with my hands curled around my knees.

Nothing ever works out for me. I hate my life I hate my life I hate my life I hate my life I hate my life I hate my life I hate my life

"Hello?" All I can see are black ankle boots. "Hey, I just saw what happened outside. Yeah, that was pretty intense." A few seconds went by in silence.

"Well, there's like a ton of guys out there...so..."Another pregnant pause. "So, um I've been cheated on like, eight times so there's nothing to worry about."

She huffed. "Let's be real here, I suck at cheering people up. Have you ever heard that quote that went something like, "Life moves on so you can choose to move along with it or get stuck behind and be lost forever? I know, cheesy. That's what I first thought until the quote started applying to my life. My dad left, my mom sleeps around. One day, when I was into drama and shit, my mom slept with the casting director so I could get a part in Macbeth." She laughed. "That dirty rotten bitch."

I laughed, not expecting her response. I think it's time for me to see who this girl is.

I get off the toilet and open the stall. I'm flabbergasted. It's Kat, the school punk. She was known for throwing the right kind of parties and hooking up with college boys. I always felt a little enchanted whenever she would pass by me in the halls. One thing she was not known for, however was communicating in any terms with a girl like me.

"There you are. Your name starts with an S. I know that much," she says.

"How'd you know?" I ask, wiping at the tears clinging to my eyelashes.

"I heard your boyfr--ex-boyfriend say it," Kat corrected herself. "So what's your name?"

"Scarlett," I reply. For the first time, I see her up close and I take in her features. She has shiny blue-black hair and deep midnight-blue eyes. Her pink lips are chapped in the middle, revealing a hint of blood. She wears all black and I notice a big skull on her left thigh.

"You have a skull tattooed on your thigh?" I say in an shocked manner. "How?"

"My mom doesn't care. She'll consent to anything. I got it when I turned seventeen. It represents my favorite album of Red Night Rave.
I'm guessing you know who they are?" She says,studying my shirt.

"I love RNR!" I chime.

She eyes me for a long time, transitioning her gaze from my eyes to my shirt. We begin talking about which band members we had crushes on which led to other conversations about other similarities we shared.

Before I knew it, it was three fifteen, which means it's time for me to go home.

"Hey, Scar? Can I call you that? It sounds edgy." I nod. "My friends and I are going thrift shopping. I was thinking you could join us."

Everything that happened today needed to be thought through. I should skip my bus ride home and just walk the eight miles to my house. Which is bad considering my heels, but I needed time to clear my head.

"Sorry, I have to get home," I say biting my lip.

"Well, maybe next time." She smiled, showing the gap between her front teeth that gave her that unique British look; and with that she left.

I gather my things from my locker, not bothering to pick up my lunch from the bathroom floor.

As I make my journey home, my mind dwells on the first memories I have of Peter. His stomach always pushing against his T-shirt. His crooked teeth barely showing through his sad frown. His imagination beaming up his warm eyes.

When he was being teased in middle school, I stood up for him. When summer came around, we read his comic books in his tree house. I found myself slowly falling for him; not because of his appearance, but because of my admiration for his "oblivious-to-this-reality imagination."

I remember he was too shy to ask me out so he wrote it on a napkin during lunch last year.

I did all my research on bypass surgery to help him get back into shape. He never thanked me for it, but his rare smiles were enough for me.

A tear rolls down my cheek and I don't try to wipe it away. When I reach my door, I'm full-on crying. I wipe my nose with my hand without care. I unlock my house door. It's unusually dark in here with the curtains masking the windows.

I try to calm myself, but I can't. I cry harder. "Surprise!" From behind the kitchen counters pops out Miranda, Noah, Sarah, and my aunt Susan. "Happy birthday!" The party blowers began to screech.

Was it really my birthday? I had completely lost track of time. I try to gain my composure. That means Peter broke up with me on my birthday. Could this day get any worse?! I run in to my room, locking it. I jump onto my bed, burying my head in my pillow and continue to bawl.

A few minutes later, my mom tries to persuade me to come out but I stay in my bedroom the rest of the afternoon.