I kept my head down, only a few more yards to go, and then he called my name, "Skye." I could hear him breathing behind me, he was that close, but I didn't turn around. I kept walking towards the door and hoped he wouldn't follow, but if he did I was sure I could shrug him off. Just like I've done to everyone else the past few years…

He didn't take the hint, "Skye, can we talk?" He put his hand on my shoulder and I resisted the urge to punch him, what did he want from me?

I turned, giving him my signature smirk, "Yeah? What do you need Clay?" I stuffed my hands into my pockets and tried to act bored, like he was a complete idiot for talking to me.

Clay pressed on valiantly, "I just want to make sure you're okay. I—"

"What do you care? I haven't spoken to you since, what? Eighth grade? Since when have you been worried about me? Look, Clay, I'm fine. I just have a headache so I'm going home, that's all." I turned to go, but he grabbed my shoulder again.

"I just want to talk Skye, and I'm not taking no for an answer. Besides, I talked to you last night, remember? The bus?" Obviously intended as a joke, I'm not in the mood.

"Barely." I muttered, lying through my teeth. It's not everyday a girl is beaten by her mother then escapes a city bus for solace. And it's less likely to run into someone from school, attempt conversation for the first time in months, and get brushed off. No, what bus ride?

Clay has a pained expression on his face, "Can we just talk? Just for a a few minutes?"

I look at my watch, the 'rents don't get home until 12. If I can finish this chat quickly, I can get home and do the deed by then. "Fine, you have 5 minutes."

He sits me down on a nearby bench, and I wait. He's pacing in front of me, visibly nervous. I check my watch; he only has 4 minutes and 55 seconds left. Finally he speaks, "Why do you want to die?"

The question catches my so off guard, I am speechless for the first time in my life. I regain composure quickly and decided to act offended, "Excuse me? What the hell are you talking about, Clay? I'm not suicidal." My second lie today.

He's still pacing, "You have to answer honestly Skye, and otherwise I'm not going to let you leave."

"I'd like to see you try." I snorted, 4:49 left.

"Just answer the question."

"I already told you, I'm not suicidal."

"Skye…"

"What? That answer's not what you wanted to hear? Well I'm sorry, I understand that so much of the population wants me dead, why not just kill myself and put you all out of your misery? Well why not? That's all she ever talks about anyways…" I say before I can stop myself.

He pounces on my slip up. "Who? Who's this she?"

I was tempted to lie, but I was wary of his threat. I didn't have time for that, "My mom. My dad too, but only when he's sober." 4:37 to go.

He stopped pacing; maybe he thinks I'm opening up. How funny, how cute, how impossible, I've never really talked with anyone before in my life. And I'm not about to start. "They tell you to kill yourself?"

I shrugged, "When their in a good mood."

Clay rubbed the back of his neck involuntarily, he's still nervous. "Do they hit you too?" He indicates a bruise on the bottom of my leg. I cuss and try to cover it up, but it's too late. What's the point of wearing baggy clothes if they don't even fulfill their purpose?

"Yes."

"Often?"

"See previous answer." 4:19.

The bell rings for second period, but neither of us move. He seems to be processing the information, but if he thinks that comes as a shock, he hasn't seen anything yet. "Do you want to grab a bite to eat?" He sure knows how to offset a girl.

"That's going to cut into you're time, you know."

"Rosie's is just around the block." He gestures to the left.

"Fine."