Don't Let Go
Chapter Seven: So Take This Feeling 'N Make It Grow
Okay, breathe. Don't panic. Don't panic. Breathe. In, out; that means inhale and exhale, Sarah. "Oh my god!" She half shrieked, eyes wide, pushing away from the table. "What am I gonna do, Canaret? How am I supposed to give this paper back to him? I can't even talk around him!" Maybe if she just edited it and mailed it to him. Or maybe she could get someone else to give it to him. To protect his public image and all. Or maybe she could burn it, and claim that she'd lost it and didn't have a chance to read the whole thing, but the opening paragraph was delightful.
"Sarah, calm down!" Canaret hissed as she glanced around at the tables around them. Thankfully, everyone in this corner of the room was less inclined to gossip than most, having been the subject of much gossip themselves. That, and this corner of the cafeteria was reserved mainly for those who reveled in their psychological traumas and were very self-focused. Therefore few of the people around the infamous Sarah were inclined to pay any attention to her panicked half-screeching.
"I can't! I can't calm down!" Sarah tried to keep her voice at a normal conversational level, despite its strained quality. She stared at the dreadful piece of text that was causing her all these breathing problems. That evil, wicked piece of paper. A horrible thought struck her, and she groaned in disgust. "God, this is just some joke, isn't it?" She slumped down in her chair sourly. "Just some dumb jock playing a dumb joke. They're probably off in their elitist circle, laughing at me." Of course. He couldn't really like her. How could anyone ever like someone like her?
Canaret blinked, her expression that of complete disbelief. "Girl, did you not see how nervous he was? This is, like, the modern equivalent of a love letter! And this sort of 'dumb joke,' as you so eloquently put it, doesn't happen in high school. Middle school, maybe, but not high school." Canaret sat back and sighed. "Look, give him the benefit of a doubt. I mean, if you like him, there must be something worth liking about him, right?"
Sarah stared at the paper as though it would leap upon her face and gobble up her head. "But-but-" she protested weakly.
"Sarah!" Canaret clapped her hands together, and Sarah jumped. Sarah focused desperately on Canaret. Canaret sighed, and leaned forward, her face serious. "Sarah, pull yourself together. I've know you a couple of years, and every time a chance at some marginal, eentsy-beentsy bit of happiness strolls by, you turn your head and convince yourself it doesn't exist. Every. Single. Time." Her eyes softened. "Sarah, what happened that you have to punish yourself to this extent?" She gazed at her friend, worry saturating her still, dark form. "When will you let yourself be happy?"
Sarah smiled weakly. "This coming from a Goth."
Canaret looked at her sharply, not finding her comment at all amusing. "Focus, Sarah, focus." She sighed with frustration, and steepled her fingertips together. She eyed Sarah with determination. She said firmly,"Feel free not to answer me, but you owe it to yourself to look at this big, blinking sign that says,'Be happy!' attached to the body of wonder-jock." She sat back and gazed at her friend with concern. Gently, she said,"Don't keep passing up the gifts the universe grants, Sarah. They're far and few in-between."
Sarah's eyes dropped numbly to the paper, the confession hidden in a description of Christian's daily life. If she assumed that he was referring to her, then she was everywhere in his life. Everywhere he looked, it seemed, there she was, a darkly unsmiling effigy of secret knowledge that caused the very air to dance when she so much as smiled. Her gaze fell upon the words he tried to use to capture her very essence, and she noted the exasperated, quick ending to a key descriptive paragraph because words were failing him badly.
She took a deep breath and tried to remove the heavy block in her mind. If she moved it, there was no going back. No room for regrets, no room for hiding. She would have to be brave, which was infinitely more difficult than being miserable. Did she really lack the courage to step up to the counter and ask for a hazelnut mocha, or would she forever settle for the boring, predictable instant coffee?
She'd run from the same thing, once, a long, long time ago in a place so far and yet so near. She didn't want to run away again, did she? Or was the happiness she sought of so little value that this brief sacrifice, this allowing of the ground to turn to quicksand beneath her, was something she was unwilling to go through? Sarah closed her eyes. If you open your eyes to the truth, Sarah, there's no way to close them again. If you admit this possibility, you can't hide behind the argument that you didn't know. Are you going to open your eyes, or are you going to walk through life blindly forever? When will you take off the blindfolds and look at all that could be? She inhaled sharply. Counted her heartbeats; one, two, three, four. Repeat. One, two, three, four.
Then, slowly, her dark brown eyes opened.
~~~~~~~~~~~
AN: Hm...I think I'll end it there. It's a good spot to stop, ne? *ducks as various sharp implements come flying her way* Hey! Okay, so it's a short chapter. Come on, I update pretty much every day. And this fic is in no danger of ending soon. *starts speaking in announcer-like voice* Remember, the chapter lengths may vary.
*giggles madly* Oooh, this is fun fun fun! *claps hands*
And fear not, Jareth fans. Our favorite man in tights will be all over the place, I promise. After all, his greatest foe needs his 'help.' *grins* Plenty of chapters for him to bounce around in.