Broken Ties

When my alarm clock went off, I was already awake.

I sat up on my bed with my feet resting on the floor and closed my eyes for a while with my head hung low. I took a deep breath, and thought to myself, Don't make such a big deal out of it. One fourth of the kids in my class have gone through their parents' divorce. Besides, you'll be back in a year.

I released my breath in a sigh as I opened my eyes, with a new resolve to deal with everything as strongly as I could. But almost instantly, my resolve was shattered when I laid my eyes upon a picture resting on my bedside table.

Edward.

I took the frame in my hands, reminiscing the happy moment we had shared when we had this picture taken. All the memories we had shared together, our unbreakable bond of friendship, and how he was almost the brother I never had. I had never managed to reach the intensity of our friendship with a girl, because between girls, there was always cattiness, jealousy or inhibitions about the other friend being more popular.

Edward was the reason I managed to get through the day in school. Both of us came from money, and we were in a school which didn't have all that many students. It was largely divided into two categories – the cheerleader types with jock boyfriends who talked about how they almost slept with an older guy in college and who complained almost on a daily basis as to why their boobs couldn't be bigger. Then there was the intellectual group, the one which had girls and boys with perfect resumes who would almost certainly make it to some Ivy League college (not just because of legacies), get a top notch job later, and leave their own mark on the world.

Me? I didn't belong anywhere. I didn't look good – far from it. Despite living in a place which was almost perpetually under sunlight, I was as pale as anyone could get. Other than this, there was no feature I had that made me stand out. I was clumsy, and moved without grace. My hair was long and brown, and my inability to manage it caused me to tie it up every day, until one day when I finally gave up on trying to loosen knots and had it chopped off short. Too short, for my liking.

Edward had joked and called me a punk rocker while I sulked, and I had thought, why not? So from then on, my wardrobe consisted only of blacks, navy blues and super dark shades. Somehow, it helped me be overlooked by the others, as it probably made me seem not very approachable.

Edward had been there with me throughout the days, no matter how many people called me a freak or passed comments about my unusual ordinariness. Interestingly, this was in spite of the fact that he was a fine looker himself. He still hadn't reached the stage when he was completely masculine, but there was no denying that he had beautiful features.

His eyes were a shade of green, a startling green that reminded me of lush forests. His hair was soft and almost bronze in colour, and seemed to style itself on its own. He was really thin, almost to the point where it looked unhealthy, which made it impossible for him to be a jock.

That didn't stop him from being hit on by the girls from time to time. It wasn't very frequent merely because he was spotted with me most of the time. I was some sort of a repellent, and occasionally, I would apologise to him for stopping him from discovering his popularity potential. He would say that I was being silly and brush it off. And I could tell that it really didn't bother him, because he wasn't quite the type to enjoy attention either. It was only him who made me feel that I wasn't completely a freak, and who made my days not just tolerable, but also enjoyable.

Now that my parents were going to get divorced, I was being sent to live with my aunt in California until my mother sorted out the divorce. It was a stupid custody situation that I couldn't avoid. For a year, I had to live there, with my aunt and her beautiful daughters until my mother joined me, in a place where I would feel even more out of place. And this time, I would have no Edward by my side, making me believe that life wasn't all that bad, discussing music and bands that we both loved, and hardly being affected even when I snapped at him frequently during PMS.

A tear slipped from my eye and fell onto the glass of the picture. I watched its progress down as it reflected various colours in the sunlight filtering through my window. Downstairs, I could hear Mom fighting with Dad again, and I thought I heard something shatter, with a ringing sound. Maybe it was one of those crystal pieces.

Or maybe it was my heart.

Thanks for reading! Oh, and please review and tell me what you think of it! I'm awfully busy, with exams looming up around the corner, and hearing what you think of it, and whether it's worth continuing, will really help me take some time out to update :)