Author's Note: I'M A LAZY PIECE OF SHIT I'M SORRY.
You see him in the hallway the next day, and sprint after him, despite the heavy books in your backpack slamming methodically into your spine. He spots you and attempts to slip into the raging before-class swarm of students, but you lunge after him and spin him around by his shoulder. Cringing away from your touch, he backs into a less crowded corridor as you approach him, triumphantly brandishing a single plastic fork. You know you should have waited until this afternoon, but after your colossal fuckup yesterday, you can't bring yourself to. It's also a shitty gift, you know that, too. But it'll be funny, and John likes funny.
Although right now he isn't smiling.
As the pair of you proceeds further down the hallway, the sound echoing through the school from the front entrance dies down, and you're walking side by side. Just like old times. You half expect him to crack a joke, or ask you about your night. But instead, when you hand him the flimsy utensil with a cheeky grin, he takes it from you and lets it fall between his fingers to the multi-colored carpet.
You look over your shoulder and watch the plastic cutlery seemingly drift into the distance as you continue down the hall, rows of lockers bordering you on the left and floor-to-ceiling windows. When you glance back at John, he is staring stonily forward, gaze fixated on the junction at the end of the corridor.
"Dave," he begins slowly. "I better not see you at my house again. Okay?" There is warning in his voice, and a promise. You remember that today marks the last day of the Annoyance Stage, according to your calculations, at least. You are not looking forward to what comes next.
"Okay?" he repeats, finally turning his head. You want to protest, but he has already quickened his pace and turned left toward his first-period classroom as you reach the end of the hall. Every cell in your body screams for you to run after him, but what would that accomplish? So instead, you turn around in a daze and head back in the direction of your class. The bell rings, and the school falls silent. When you've almost reached the front entrance, there's a deafening crunch which penetrates the stillness, and your right shoe falls unevenly on the old carpet. You look down and raise your foot, to find the insubstantial plastic fork shattered underneath your weight.