It was that time of year again. That awful time of year, when everyone was singing and smiling and laughing without a care in the world. The time you forget you're poor and decide to live off happiness instead. I snorted. No wonder it doesn't last.
Everyone tried to get me into the spirit but of course I refused them. I would never participate in a holiday that gave me such awful memories. The scene started to creep back into my head and I shook it vigorously, hoping to rid myself of these cursed memories. I succeeded, and I sat down with my usual scowl as if I hadn't just almost broke down in front of the entire class.
I looked down at my Monster can and pretended to study it intently while internally I regarded my thoughts. I had used to drink coffee, but after that day, I found I needed something much stronger than coffee just to function. I can't believe it's been a year... I snapped myself out of my depressive trance and turned my attention to the front of the room, doing anything to take my mind off of my daily torment device known as my brain.
A redhead sat next to me and tilted her head, her concerned brown eyes trained on me. "Are you okay?"
I nodded. "I'm fine." I said quietly.
She shook her head. "I don't believe that. Not for one second."
I sighed. "You're one of the smart ones, then."
She shrugged. "I'm not smart. I just notice things. Now why are you upset?"
I shook my head. "I don't want to talk about it, Cat."
Cat nodded and went back to sit next to Andre. I stared at her seat. It was in the front of the classroom, far away from my seat. She used to sit there all the time, so I had moved as far away from it as I possibly could. I sighed. I really needed to stop thinking of her.
The bell rang and everyone rushed to get out of their seats, but I had stopped caring about my classes enough to want to hurry to them. I had stopped caring about a lot of things after that day a year ago. As I made my way to my locker, my eyes came to her old locker. Her decorations had been replaced with a blank locker, and now the blank locker was replaced with white X's with black outlines all over it. Someone else must have got the locker. My eyes flared before I forced myself to keep walking. No one should have that locker. No one can replace her.
I angrily opened my locker and shoved my things back in it. A tall boy with fluffy hair came up to me. "So, Cat told me you're upset." He began.
"Fuck off, Beck." I slammed my locker and started to walk away.
He kept pace with me. "Is it about what happened last year?"
"I said, fuck off!" I yelled as I picked up the pace.
"It wasn't your fault, you know!" He yelled after me as I stormed away.
I found myself in the Hollywood Arts bathroom, crying my eyes out. Beck was wrong. It was entirely my fault. My mind couldn't help it; it began to replay the memory I had been repressing all day.
"I can't believe those guys back there!" She exclaimed.
I shook my head. "I know right? They actually thought they had a change with us. As if!"
She laughed. "Right? I would never date a guy...like them."
My gaze left the road for a second so I could raise an eyebrow at her. "I heard that hesitation. Care to explain?"
She blushed. "I might be bisexual. What of it?"
I nodded and hesitated before speaking again. "Pansexual."
She raised her eyebrows. "You are?"
I nodded. "But also demiromantic. That's why I never date anyone. It took Beck years to get close enough to me that I would even consider dating him."
She nodded slowly. "I see. So, say if, I don't know, I asked you out.. what would you say?"
I chuckled softly. "I think I would say yes."
"You think?" She asked incrediously.
"Well, I might have to think about it a little, but I probably would." I smirked.
She grinned. "Really?"
I shrugged. "We've been friends for what, three years now? I think that's enough."
"We've been friends all these years?" Her eyes widened. "And I never knew?"
I shrugged again. "I always figured that you would just assume. Why else do you think I would be okay with you hugging me all the time?"
She smirked. "Is that why you were all excited to sleep in the same bed in Yerba?"
I blushed a little bit. "Maybe."
She smiled and became silent for a while. A few minutes later, I heard her speak again. "Jade?"
"Yeah?"
I never got a verbal answer. Instead, lips were on my lips and we flowed together like a single being, enjoying this moment of ecstasy before it all came crashing down.
I sobbed like a baby when my brain replayed this part, and even though I begged my mind to stop, it didn't. It continued to torment me with images from that night.
"Wait, sir, I think she's coming to!"
The voice interrupted my dreaming and I burst from my sleep to see strangers standing over me. I tried to get up and immediately groaned. One of the men held me down. "Oh no, don't you move now. Your body has took quite a beating. We were just about to move you into the ambulance."
I moaned. "Did I have an accident?"
The man nodded. "You're lucky you aren't dead."
I grimaced. "What about the other girl? Is she okay?"
The man frowned. "Ah, well, she wasn't as lucky as you.."
I turned my head to the side and widened my eyes. I had always loved horror movies and blood, but in the movies it was fake. Here, it was real, so real... the blood of the love of my life was staining the sidewalk next to me as her body was lying there, neck twisted and eyes wide and glazed. I didn't cry. I sat there, wide-eyed and slack-jawed, mourning my love. It wasn't fair that I had lived and she hadn't. I should've died with her. I hadn't even gotten to tell her.. "I love you, Tori," I whispered as they rolled me into the ambulance.
As the image of the tan girl laying dead on the ground returned to my head, I immediately lost all sanity I had recently maintained. I sobbed over the loss of my love. We had gone out for Christmas dinner and it had ended with her death. She never even gotten to know how much I loved her.. how much I still love her.. I miss her so much..
In a Hollywood Arts girls bathroom at 9:45 AM, I cried my heart out, wishing so very much that I could just drown in my tears.