When the Dead Walk We Run

                I lived by the firm philosophy that there were three kinds of secrets in life.

                The first type was the little ones, the white lies. I’d never bothered keeping track of them; I didn’t think lying to Mom about eating an extra cookie was worth a lifetime of shame. The next step up were the things I’m ashamed of, secrets that I would not want anyone finding out about. The fact that I slept with a kitty stuffed animal until I was 14 wouldn’t exactly cause me a life time of shame, but it wasn’t exactly something I want to broadcast to the world.

                Then there was the final type. The secrets that were so dark, so pressed close to my chest that if they were to get out, picturing the fallout is unimaginable.  The secrets that seemed to be so ingrained into my brain, that they had become a part of my personality.  People tended to have few if any of these earth breaking secrets, unless they were convicts or something, but mine had been reminding me of its existence more than usual lately.

                This was probably because I had just run into Jessica Tanner better known as my ex-secret girlfriend who broke my heart, steeped on it, and left it in a shallow hole.  Or maybe it was because I happened to run into her by finding her making out with one of the baseball players in the girls’ bathroom.

                “You know he isn’t supposed to be in here, right?” I said, pointing at the taller boy whose hands were creeping below her waistline.  Jessica pushed him back, turning to face me, her arms crossed, her face red. The boy just looked pissed, his hands in fists, and I couldn’t help but notice the bulge in his pants. I was so glad that I didn’t walk in a few minutes later.

                “Stop being a smartass, Morgan.” Jessica huffed, blowing some of her blond bangs to the side. She was in her cheerleading uniform, the blue and green stripes of Flyer’s high school on the black fabric.  Her hair was up in a high ponytail, her makeup done perfectly.  “We were just talking.”

                “Right,” the boy said, his voice breaking an octave. I had to restrain a giggle. Jessica glared at him, smoothing out her skirt.

                “Don’t you have a game to get to Chad?” The tiny public bathroom seemed to get five times colder, even with the summer heat. Jessica did have that effect. The boy almost whimpered, looking a bit like a lost puppy.

                “I can stay for a few more minutes as long as the flat chested ginger  moves it.” I couldn’t help but glance to my admittedly depressing bust line and gritted my teeth. Jessica snarled.

                “Out pretty boy. You insult Morgan, we’re done here.” She shoved him to the side. He almost hit the tiled wall, and stalked out. Jessica glanced in the mirror for a second before walking towards me. I couldn’t help but notice the plastic gold locket still hanging on her neck.

                “What a dick,” she said , flicking off the door from where he had left.  “I should have slapped him.”

                It wasn’t the best response all things considered, but I didn’t exactly have a reputation for being that eloquent. “You’re the one who decided to tongue wrestle with him.” Jessica’s glare was back, now shifted onto me and I tried not to flinch. I failed.

                “I had a bad day. He was pretty.”  She grimaced, clicking her nails against the sink.  “I can’t say it was my best choice.”