I'm so sorry for the delayed update. I've had a rough couple of weeks in school, and I also have to regularly write stories for class, too, so there's that. I'll work to stay on top of things.

Chapter Ten

It was my third day eating lunch in the bathroom when Meg decided to intervene. I was sitting in the stall furthest from the door when I heard it open. I froze, hoping no one would find me sitting there with a half-eaten peanut butter and jelly sandwich. The intruder took a few steps, and when I risked a peek, I saw the boots were Meg's.

"Open the door," she demanded. I didn't answer, instead opting to take a bite of my lunch.

"Come on, Christine. I know you're in there." Her boots moved closer. "I'm not leaving until you talk to me," she announced. When I still didn't answer, she dropped to the ground and slid under the stall door. "Yuck," she commented as she sat across from me. "You better be glad you're my best friend."

"What do you want?" I asked tonelessly, wanting to get this conversation over with so I could read.

"Why are you mad at me?"

I stared at her for several long moments, certain she had to be joking. Yet, she genuinely seemed confused. "Seriously?" I managed. "You can't think of any reason I might be upset?"

"No, I don't! But, if you would tell me –" she stopped when she saw the look on my face. I continued to stare at her in disbelief, and she didn't try to say anything else. No excuses, no apologies… nothing. "That's why I'm upset, Meg," I told her, my voice cracking as tears filled my eyes. "You never notice how much you hurt me sometimes, and you never apologize."

"Christine, that's not fair!"

"No, it's not," I agreed, though my meaning was different than hers.

"You can't be –"

But, I'd had enough and pointed towards the stall door. "Get out of my stall," I whispered.

She watched me, waiting for me to change my mind, but I continued to point towards the door expectantly. Pressing her lips together angrily, she rose and stomped out of the bathroom, still never bothering to apologize or finding out why I'd been mad at her in the first place.

For the first time in my life, I skipped class, instead curled up on the ground crying over the loss of my best friend.

o0o

The warmth of the library couldn't ease the chill in my bones as I went upstairs. Looking around, I saw my spot was empty, but at the moment, that didn't matter to me. I was desperate to talk to someone, anyone, and there was only one person I could think of who would take the time to talk to a sixteen-year-old, even if it was to irritate her. I wanted to be irritated, angry, or… something other than hurting.

I found Erik in the smallest, darkest corner of the second floor, several books scattered around him and a notebook in his lap. "Hi," I began uncertainly. Too late I remembered that we hadn't parted on the best of terms.

He continued reading as though he hadn't heard me. Clearing my throat, I opened my mouth to speak again.

"Clearing your throat is bad for your voice," he said without looking up.

"Oh! You heard me." I smiled sheepishly. "Ummm… how are you?"

"Busy," he replied shortly.

"Doing what?" I asked, trying to see the title of the book. He shifted slightly, keeping it out of my sight. I had a sneaking suspicion he did it on purpose. "Work," he told me. "Work that is far too important to be interrupted by a whiny child."

I took a step back, shocked. Erik had been rude to me before, but he had never so deliberately insulted me. He must be angry about me snapping at him the other day, I decided. I did act a bit childish. I took a deep breath and decided to make amends. "Listen, if this is about the other day –"

"Miss Daaè." He looked at me disdainfully over his book. "As you said yourself, we are not friends. I'm a busy man and don't have the time or patience to amuse you today, so go and play elsewhere."

Play? I thought indignantly. I was prepared to tell him off, but then, I realized he was absorbed in his book again. Without a word, I walked away. I grabbed my opera anthology and sat in my spot, my fingers trembling with anger. I'd been called many things at school, but no insult had ever stung so much. I knew I wasn't the child Erik believed me to be, but hurt nonetheless for him to think it of me.

I was reading about Le nozze di Figaro when Erik finally emerged from his work corner. "Good afternoon, Miss Daaè," he greeted as though nothing had happened. "Which opera is it today?"

I peeked over the top of my anthology. "Oh, you're speaking to me now?" I asked with feigned surprise.

"I have finished my work," was the only excuse he offered.

"So, you have time to spare for the child now?" I wasn't being very gracious, but my feelings were hurt by his earlier behavior.

He walked away, and for a moment, I thought I'd driven him away. I was trying to decide whether or not that was a good thing when he returned with a chair. "No! That wasn't an invitation to sit down!" I exclaimed, the opera anthology falling into my lap.

"I know," he replied as he sat across from me. "You will excuse me for sitting anyway."

"I will?" I was about to make another snarky comment when his eyes narrowed. In the short time I'd known him, I had learned that the best option for me when he did that was to shut up. So, I sat there silently, biting my lip nervously as he studied me. I was beginning to think he was staring just to unnerve me when he said, "I'm sorry."

My mouth fell open stupidly. "You're sorry?" I echoed, certain I'd misunderstood him.

"I apologize for my rudeness," he repeated without a trace of insincerity. "When I'm working, I'm not very gracious when I'm interrupted, I'm afraid." He offered a small smile. "There, now. You can stop scowling. I wasn't trying to punish you for the other day." When I still didn't say anything, he added, "Am I forgiven, then?"

I couldn't help myself. I smiled at him. It had been a long day, and I was too weary emotionally from my fight with Meg to fight with anyone else. "Yeah, you're forgiven," I told him. "Sorry for snapping at you the other day."

He shrugged. "I'm not offended as easily as you are." I raised my eyebrows but chose to overlook his comment. "What?" he said, his voice teasing, "no death glare?"

I shook my head. "I've already lost one friend today," I told him. "I'd rather not lose another so soon."

I didn't fully realized what I'd said until I heard his quick intake of breath. Realizing what I'd said, I started to apologize, but instead, something entirely different escaped from my mouth: "Yeah, friends."

Another long moment. Then, he smiled again, but this time, there was no sense of teasing anywhere in his features. "Then friends we shall be, Miss Daaè."

Posted on October 1, 2015