reasons I wasn't entirely sure of at

, I did just criticize him to our teacher in a blind rage. I looked awa

to the left, asking, "Hear what?" "That I

floor, a huge sense of embarrassment. Seeing neither Aria nor Mark, I resorted to gazing at my w

for it to com

ge, he said sarcastically,

r. As his eyes darted over mine, I attempted to seize the fleeting feelings, pulling out rage, disbelief, and the typical anguish;

't bother anymore and I

to fail no matter what because I'm your

-up eyes were a mix of sea green and ocean blue that made my chest tighten with melancholy. The two of us being that close

ed to you?" he asked, shaking his head in disgust

diating from his body, and I could still feel his thin

but he merely tightened his grip on me. "T

ep blue eyes vanished into an unfathomable abyss. He had reerected the wall he had constructed around himself over the

st let me go?" I as

ad forgotten for a long time that caused my chest to rise and fall like it did during a marathon run. His inability to take his eyes off of me seared into my cheeks, condensing all of h

f boisterous kids making their way to lunch. I grudgingly followed everyone as a

face by the time I saw Mark

ing my packed lunch in front of me. "Wha

s lodged itself up your ass

n wrap, "You don't even wanna know,

reen eyes followed every move I made as she tal

odded, picking my nose a little

rdboard and ash all of a sudden. Even though Aria and Mark tried to engage me in their talk, I found it difficult to keep up with them. Rather, I spit covertl

ing on Tyrone and my complicated relationship. With my elbow resting on the table, I rested my head in m

ge phobia of hot sauce, and obsession with banana cake are all still fresh in my memory. However, I would ru

w at my friends and snapped out of my re

ou even list

ng! I always yawn w

table to tap her hand, and they shared a sly look before turning back to look at me. Mark then

it warily. "

m when I've finished it. Not before, not during, but after. Mirroring my indifference, Aria moved the fist-sized box closer to me on the tabl

nd open it," she said with a sm

ed and rumpled wrapping paper. It w

I slowly raised my head and allow

th a sheepish expression, and

"I watched so many DIY tutorials on how to wrap a p

me a quick, side hug. As I fought to remove all the adhesive tape and tore the paper to fragments, the

have!" I exclaimed,

s I opened my birthday present, a

ter he threw your old iPhone in my pool. "After this asshat dropped yo

imaced in apology, so I gave him a forgiving

roperly today," she said, tilting her

and to maintain my indifferent demeanor. I said goodbye to them as the last period bell rang and rushed to my Language lesson. I was seated next to George Scott, one of the most notorious soccer players at t

class and the guilt I carried about with me made it impossible for me to focus. I was fl

g me since the end of the fourth period. I would have laughed it off if someone had informed me before ninth grade

g at the beach, hanging out at the mall, or just idly watching movies at the theater. However, I had plenty of time during the last four years to come to terms wit

onship. Given what he did to me in the ninth grade, I doubt the emotion was reciprocated. For her, the ide

ather, so I didn't blame her. And no, that's not how I mean it literally. She simply tried to shield

elping to tear the rope keeping my heart together

n even if it wasn't reciprocated. It might dismantle them piece by piece until they were left wondering, "Why was I fo

those aspects of myself and not wanting to give them back to me. So was calling him useless so out of order? Al

omething different at college, his grades did not demonstrate his academic ability. All of his parents, instructors, and pupils were aware of h

disagreeing with myself deep down. Tyrone couldn't be so disconnected from reality as to not re

ed, everyone was aware o

rted down from the top, and I forced myself to look past my sadness and follow him. I put

ss, he pus

my heart. We all tried our hardest to support him, but all he did was close us off. He transformed from the affabl

nd his extensive list of transgressions began to take center stage in conversations. The day he set fire to a teacher's car had to have been the wil

the cool table. I shut my eyes, pressed my lips together, and, for once, didn't push Tyrone out of my thoughts

yself as I mentally went through all of my favorite memories, one by one, reliving them as though I were in first grade. Before the twins spent hours chasing each other, I saw