None of it mattered to her. Nothing.
It didn't matter that she was standing in the middle of a school hallway. It didn't matter that she was drenched to the bone, her light blue tank top, now dark blue, hanging and clutching to her body, showing more to the student body then she ever wanted to. It didn't matter that her perfectly blow-dried hair was hanging in thick, wet strands and her makeup was running down her face. It didn't even matter that she was currently minus one shoe.
Nothing mattered. Not anymore.
She walked, her weight changing each time she took a step. The one shoe she had left squeaked every time it hit the linoleum floor. People lined the lockers, like a bad teen movie. Behind her, the glass doors showed the lightening and the flooding that was occurring at the moment.
But the rain – it didn't matter to her.
She had braved the storm, she ran through it. As she sprinted by the gym, the track coach, hiding out in his car, made a mental note to add her to his prospects list.
The school had an eerie silence to it; the only sound really heard was her shoes and the occasional breath. But to her, it felt like it was only her and the lockers. The people blended into the walls and she hardly noticed how they pointed and stared.
She didn't care.
The only thing that played over in her mind was the conversation she had the night before.
When the phone rang, she looked over at the caller ID and felt her features immediately form into a smile. She rolled over across her bed and picked it just before it went to voicemail. She checked the clock.
"You realize that it's 12 in the morning?" She asked good-naturedly.
"Brooke…we need to talk." Just those five words, words she had used so many times before, stopped her. She could feel the goofy grin sliding off her face. Her cheery voice hardened.
"What do you mean?" It came out harsh and rough sounding, and she could practically feel the flinch across the telephone lines.
"Brooke, it's just…" Brooke turned out the voice. No, she thought. This can't be happening. But she tuned back into the conversation.
"It's just what?" She interrupted. Her voice wasn't hard anymore. It was…the person on the other line tried to figure it out. It was something different, something Brooke didn't do often.
It was sad.
"He said that we…" Brooke finished the sentence.
"Should get back together, right?" Her defeated tone was heartbreaking.
"I love him."
"I love you." Brooke said after a moment of silence.
"You and me, Brooke. We were good, great even. It's just…" Brooke sighed.
"Do you always stop after you say 'it's just'? Am I supposed to finish the sentence every time?" Brooke wasn't being rude though. She was just asking.
There was silence as Brooke heard tears being shed. "I love you so much Brooke." There was a pause.
"Then why are we even talking about this?"
"I don't know what to do anymore Brooke. He's playing with my heart, but this time, he looked like he meant it." Brooke's temper flared.
"That's what you said the first time, and the time after that, and the time after that! He always seems like he means it!" Brooke took a deep breath and tried to control the rage in her.
"I slept with him." Brooke's ability to feel left her.
"What?" She spat out.
"I slept with him." When it was repeated, it sounded worse.
Brooke didn't say anything, even when she was begged. She remained looking at the ceiling, hoping that what she just heard was a lie. But it wasn't. The tone of voice, the hollowness, it confirmed the horrible truth.
"Brooke, we're not going to work." Brooke snorted.
"You're not allowing us to work." And there was the awful silence again. This time, Brooke spoke up.
"Does he make you happy?" But she got no answer. She waited for a minute or two, and then hung up the phone.
She was still walking down the hallway, her mind focused in on one thing only. Everyone stared.
It didn't matter.
And then, she saw her. She was leaning up against her locker, chatting happily with Peyton. The way the light shone on her hair made her look like an angel.
Then Lucas walked up and slipped his arm around Peyton's shoulders, and drew her in for a kiss.
It didn't matter.
She didn't care that her best friend and her ex-boyfriend had gotten together. She knew it was bound to happen. So when she found out, she smiled and gave her "blessing."
And then Nathan "Everyone Loves Me" Scott sauntered up and put his hands over Haley's eyes. The blond squealed before turning around and slapping him playfully across the chest. The brunette boy grabbed the hand and brought it to his lips, kissing the back of it softly. Haley blushed. And then, as if by chance, Haley looked up.
Her hazel eyes widened and froze. Brooke couldn't move. Haley's fingers were still loosely intertwined with Nathan's but he had his back to Brooke. All of them did, except for Haley.
And in that moment, nothing seemed to matter.
It didn't matter that her entire relationship with Haley had been a secret. It didn't matter that the only time they could really be with each other was in the janitors closet during class, or if Brooke could sneak into Haley's window without getting caught.
It didn't matter that her friends became Tree Hill's version of the O.C.'s "Fabulous Four."
It didn't matter that she was the only left out.
It didn't matter that she would probably catch her death in her soaking wet clothes.
It didn't matter that she'd have no one to go home to; that she was probably the laughing stock of the school; that she had left her windows open.
It didn't even matter that her heart was slowly collapsing and pulling apart and breaking into ten of thousands of little pieces.
Because when Haley turned back and the broke eye contact, Brooke saw the brunette girl smile. Smiling at Nathan. And in that moment, she got her answer.
So she turned around and walked away slowly, stopping at the glass doors to pick up her discarded shoe. She didn't look back.
Haley was happy.
Nothing else mattered.