Disclaimer: I don't own anything, really. I tell you no lies.
Welcome to the Fallout.
III.
By the time the lunch bell rang, I was certainly in no mood to be around anyone, (particularly him) let alone eat anything. The sickness hadn't subsided as it usually did, and the thought of even trying to ingest greasy Grub Truck food made me even queasier.
So, I settled for hiding out in the black box theater. I waited until most everyone was already gone before making my way there. As I approached the theater doors, I caught sight of a blur of black in my peripheral vision. I glanced over curiously and saw Jade at the end of the hall near the Wahoo! Punch machine typing furiously away onto her Pearphone screen. I stopped my arm midair where it was about to push open the theater doors and my face fell. Jade. My heart, or more accurately where it should have been, took a freefall. It was almost as hard to see her as it was to see him… her boyfriend. Just thinking about what had happened, all the while being behind her back, was enough to put me on edge. That's why I didn't. Think of it, that is.
And here she was with her trademark scowl on her face, nothing but the usual insecurities and suspicions to break her twisted sense of trust in her… boyfriend. (That word was still hard for me to swallow.) She really did have no idea, as far as I knew. She was untrusting by nature, but if only she knew she actually had a legitimate reason to lose all faith in him…
I didn't want to think about what would happen then.
Jade chose that moment to look up and we made eye contact for the briefest of seconds. Her eyes narrowed, as they usually did when she noticed me, but there was something else in her stare. Hate. Pure, unadulterated hate. I mean, I always knew she didn't care for me, that much was pretty clear from day one. But to see for half of a second just how deep that dislike went was really unnerving. And sort of upsetting.
Her voice cut through the tension like nails on a chalkboard would have. "Can I help you?" She asked, her voice laced with that special blend of malice and monotone that only she could pull off.
I tripped over any words or apologies I probably should have said then and just turned away to push open the theater doors I was still hovering in front of.
"Freak." She muttered, but it was if she'd screamed it.
A wave of shame washed over me and I quickly scurried into the theater.
I always seemed to make a fool of myself. I berated myself for caring.
I made a beeline for the stage. I hadn't actually sung in the longest time, and although I couldn't feel the familiar hum of excitement in my veins that I usually got from performing, I actually sort of missed it. Singing was easy. Singing was uncomplicated and expressive. I walked quickly to the stage but then stopped short midstride.
"Whoa…" I whispered, as all the blood rushed to my head. I staggered over to the nearest chair and all but collapsed on top of it, grabbing my head in my hands.
When the pressure alleviated enough for me to relax, I lifted my face from my palms.
I could feel the weakness run straight to the core; inside and out. I felt as if I could fall over and sleep forever pretty much all the time now. I was weak from lack of food, but the idea of it did nothing really to entice me. Ironically, as that thought occurred, my stomach made a terrible gurgling noise not unlike a clogged garbage disposal, as if it was trying to digest something that just wasn't there. Which was exactly what it was doing. I briefly remembered the granola bar Andre had given me a bit ago, and I rooted through my bag until I found it. I fumbled with the foil wrapping, feeling every muscle in my hands twinge as I tore it open. That was probably not good. I experimentally took a small bite of the corner and swallowed the food with great difficulty down my scratchy throat.
After I forced myself to swallow about three quarters of it—I was already full at the third bite—I replaced the wrapping and stored it away for later, maybe.
After a while of just sitting there staring at the little dust particles floating in the air in the light, I blinked and shifted my position. When I couldn't get comfortable in the hard chair, I slumped down far enough to where my chin was flat against my torso, sighing dejectedly. My eyes were fixed on the hem of my—his sweatshirt and I felt a twinge of nostalgia hit me as I again thought about that night involuntarily, and every other night we had spent together flashed before my eyes without any warning. It felt like there was so many of them, it was like a movie in flash-forward, mental images zooming by in my brain. It might have felt like there was so much time we had had, but in reality I really had had no time with him at all. Not truly. We existed on borrowed time, stolen glances, and secretive moments. I was literally so weak emotionally that I actually cringed at the word 'we'. Because there was no 'we' when it came to him and I. There was Tori… and then there was … Beck. No 'we'.
I forced his name out in my thoughts. I wasn't so weak as to be hurt by pronouns and proper nouns, was I? … Yes, I was.
Why did he mess me up so badly? Why couldn't I be strong when I really needed to? Why was everything so fucked up? Why did I end up alone? I felt the anger bubble up toward the surface again, but maybe that was just the granola trying to escape.
My gaze traveled from my waist upward on my body, hovering around my abdomen. No… I corrected myself. There was a 'we'. I wiped the wetness from my face before even registering that it came from my own eyes.
As soon as the final bell rang, dismissing the school day, I scurried toward the parking lot to wait for Trina. I got about halfway there when I realized with a huff that I'd forgotten my theater history book in my locker.
Changing my direction, I pushed through all the eager students, fighting the sea of teenagers, headed back to where I had been not even five minutes ago. Sighing with extreme irritation, I tried to open my locker so quickly that I messed up the combination. I rested my forehead against the cool metal for a moment to collect myself and tried again. When I could move again, I turned the dial to the correct numbers. By the time I collected my history textbook, a good chunk of the student body had already fled the building. I looked at the time on my phone and muttered a curse. Trina had better not have left me, or I swear…
I hurried towards the doors, struggling to put away the book in my bag, not looking where I was going. I had to stop for a brief second to close the bag, and when I straightened up and continued my frantic fast walk towards where I hoped my sister's car would be, all the while never looking anywhere but the ground in front of where my feet were moving, I got a prickly feeling on the back of my neck and felt the odd sensation of being watched closely.
A/N: Hello again, lovelies. To be perfectly honest, I really wanted to get a chapter out on this one so I whipped it up real fast. And to be perfectly honest again, I'm afraid that I believe this isn't particularly that great of a chapter. I'm aware that this is short. All three have been. But it'll lengthen more when I get a better idea of where I want this to go.
Anyone into dubstep? Bassnectar = greatness. The Lights remix makes my brain a puddle of goo. Anyways...
I should have chapter four out soon. If not tomorrow then Thursday. I already have Thursday evening planned. I'm gonna take a super long bath and not do any homework because Thursday is my new IDGAF day and I'm a pro slacker. :)
Oh yeah, thank you for all the wonderful reviews on the first two chapters. You make me a happy camper.
P.S: Is untrusting a word? Freakin Firefox says it's not. Like tf is this. okay. sorry. just had to ask.
