Love Left Unrequited

Chapter 11

"How, exactly, did . . . that develop?" I ask quietly, my voice just moments from quivering. It takes restraint to not suck in a deep breath to distract myself.

Spencer looks at me. "I don't know. I've always thought she was pretty, you know? It's just some girls have that special quality to them. It's nothing they can control. She's unique and special."

"So, you like her based off of her looks?"

"I'm not trying to be that way, you know that," he teases, but I don't see the joke. "It certainly helps though." He breaks out into a grin, and then nudges me with his elbow.

I give him a short nod and stop my tracks. I point to the door beside me. "Class," I say. Inside awaits me the pestering boy, not nearly the one I actually want to see. Alas.

I scurry inside, trying to erase what he just told me. He didn't mean anything wrong by it, I know, but still, my heart aches slightly. No boy has ever said anything close to what he just told her. I've never been much of anything more than platonic to anyone.

"Good morning," I say, my voice tinged with sweet venom as I take my seat. I glance over at Vance; he is unaffected.

It takes a second for my temper to flare. "Do you have any particular emotions? Do you do anything besides sit there and text or whatever it is you do?" I spit.

The problem with that is that I should know better than to think he is a gentle dog. He fights back with, "You wouldn't know, would you?"

I feel stupid for trying to be something I wasn't, so I simply roll my eyes and turn to the front of the classroom. The teacher passes out a simple typing exercise.

"How's the girlfriend?" I ask, minutes later. I keep my eyes glued to the paper. I've already played Dr. Phil once today, I can do it twice.

"Diane? She's fine. Beautiful. Popular- don't deny it. You know we both are."

"At least you recognize it. Most of them claim that they aren't popular, all said whilst throwing their hair over their shoulder and showing off that winning smile. Gotta love 'em."

He shrugs apathetically. I turn my head as I realize that I'm sorry. I'm too stubborn to say it, though. I feel like I've ruined something before it could begin.

"I guess you never know. That's why I asked, I suppose," I tell him.

"What?" he asks. I wasn't mumbling, not to my sense anyway. I hate when people say they can't hear me. They should have been listening.

"Nothing. I didn't say anything." I tap my fingers against the table. I don't know how they do it, I really don't. Those beautiful children, their shiny hair, their perfect tongues. The only words that come out of my mouth make people mad or indifferent toward me. He will never start the conversation first, that I can be sure of. Unless they are my best friend, they will not start the conversation first. I'm not desirable in the social rankings, I'm not. It's a simple truth that, luckily, I will be free of in two years when I graduate.

It doesn't take long for me to type the paper. Each click, each word makes me wonder what I could've said to Vance, and what I didn't say. Another relationship with another carefully crafted person crumpled. The bell rings not long after; I'm one of the first out of the door.

I practically sprint to the auditorium. As I walk, I notice the small piece of paper that I had pinned to the board earlier. A slight smile floats to my lips at the sight of the silly idea. However, when I get closer, I notice that the paper is bigger. Titled. Not mine. I rush forward and practically rip the small paper from the bulletin board.

"Hello -Harry Potter," the note reads, and I laugh out loud.

"Good to know there's always a wizard looking out for me," I say as I scrawl something on the back of the paper and pin it back up.

"Someone actually replied," I tell Jackie as I sit down beside her on the stage. She smiles at that.

"Really? What'd they say?"

"Well, it isn't exactly like they signed it themselves, that I know. I'll check back. It's probably some creeper, but they have to be better than someone who was so unobservant that they wouldn't notice a tiny slip of paper on a bulletin board with fliers that are at least ten years old. All they said was 'hello', anyway," I say.

"I'm kind of surprised, really," she replies. I nod a bit, though I was hoping that she would've believed more in me.

"Me too," she says, just as Phillip sits down and pecks her on the cheek. Catrina sits down beside me, though she doesn't kiss me. I shoot her a polite smile, one that is returned a few seconds after.

"I got a 95 on that AP Lit test today," Phillip says, a cocky light forming in his eyes. My breath hitches, though I manage a wide smile.

"Yeah, I really liked that test." Lies. "I don't remember my exact grade, but I made an A too." Lies. I made an 85.

This is what our friendship has come to. If there's one thing I know, it's that they're insane about grades. Their parents push them past what would be my breaking point. I'm lucky, though. My parents don't mind the fact that my average is a 99 and not a 107. They don't make me apologize. I'm forever thankful for that, for how they raised me. I'm not sure I could withstand a constant personal aspiration to maintain a top ten percent average. I can barely even stand the judgement that they give me. When a was a blossoming sophomore, young and innocent, I snapped at Jackie about grades. I didn't expect her to snap at me and tell me that I was a loser for making one B my freshman year. In my defense, geometry was a completely useless subject. There was no way a simple person could make any higher than a B.

I look down at my sandwich and try to think of something that could divert the topic to something more peaceful. Minutes pass with mindless small chat before I realize that neither Celia nor her loving boyfriend Spencer have showed their faces.

"Tonight's the night," Phillip says suddenly, making my head pop up.

"What is it?" I ask. "What's going on?"

"It's that time of year again," he says with a smirk.

"Are you not going to tell me or something? Am I missing out on a joke?" I ask.

"No, you're perfectly aware. Just make sure you're ready to go tonight. Midnight. Let's go out and play, kids," he says, almost maniacal in his fashion.

"I'm not robbing any banks, just to clarify." Jackie rolls her eyes at Phillip to show me that he means no harm.

I suppose that they are shocked that I don't remember this "event", however, they should know by now that I can't remember what I had for breakfast, let alone what I did in year's past.

The shrill bell rings overhead, halting our conversations. I hop up, and before I know it, the bell is ringing for us to leave school. Midnight crawls closer. My nerves are steady, but I'll go with them, whatever they're planning. I'll do anything they want me to do. That's what friends are for.

Hours later, midnight is here. I wait patiently in the dark of my room, the window of my room open. I text Phillip, Jackie, and Catrina to simply tap on my window when they come. I don't text Celia, even if she is coming.

A small tap comes to my window, and I rush forward to it and raise the bottom. I grin when I see Phillip's face.

"Let's go then, eh?"

Author's Note: I'm so sorry that I didn't write this chapter before now, but my schedule been crazy and I haven't had time to sit down and write this. Anyway, I'll try to update again with a longer chapter but this is as good as it's going to get right now. I'm sorry about that. I hope you liked this :) I promise I'm not giving up on this story I just needed some space. The next chapter should be longer!