For the past week, all I've thought about is Adam. That's all that fills my head. adamadamadamadamAdamAdamAdamAdamADAMADAMADAM. I'm trying not to admit to myself that I have feelings for him, but that's impossible. It's simply denying the truth. I'm in love with Adam Bretter, the boy with the big green eyes and scars on his arms. I'm in love with him, and I know that he may never love me back, and I know that he might not want anything to do with me, and I'm okay with that, because when you love someone, you accept them.
He sends me texts almost every night to wake up to, but only after 3:30 since he knows I'll be asleep. He also checks daily to make sure I'm not cutting myself. Most of the time I don't hurt myself, but when I do, I tell him. But then he goes and cuts himself, and tells me that he does so. I asked him today why he would ever do that, and this was his response.
Adam: If my Sydney is in pain, I won't let her be alone. We are in this together.
He sits with me every day at lunch now. We each have one cigarette, we check each other for fresh cuts, and then we walk back to school. We walk to the big green doors at Wyatt, and he holds the door for me before kissing me on the cheek. It's times like those when I begin to doubt that his feelings for me are strictly platonic. He's constantly joking that I'm exactly like his sister, and I constantly want to just scream when he says that. I don't want to be your sister, I would yell. I want to be your everything.
There's this new girl in my Physics class. She goes by Kimber, although I doubt that it's her real name. She wears black, like me, and has her hair dyed black and red, and she has lots of piercings. She saw me wearing my Ramones shirt in class, and she raised an eyebrow. "Wanna sedate me, Iris?" she joked. It almost felt like it was in a flirty way, but I haven't thought anything of it. We've talked about music quite a bit lately, and she 's not as scary as I thought she would be.
Things with Adam have seemed simply friendly, but today in AP that changed. I was sitting in my usual desk, Converse in air and headphones in, when Adam threw his shit down into the seat next to me. "Hey there, Hot Topic, " he smirks. I roll my eyes.
"Adam, do you have to be such a prick?" I laugh and hit him with my textbook. He pretends that he's been severely hurt, and I roll my eyes. "So," I say loudly, clearing off my desk, "Ready to answer some questions?"
Adam puts his hand on mine. "My dear Sydney, as much as I love writing this report, and believe me, I do love it, I thought that maybe we could talk about some stuff that's not educational."
I glance up at him. His green eyes seem full of worry, and I frown. "Yeah, shoot."
He smiles. "Sydney Daniels, over the past month, we've spent a considerable amount of time together, and we know a lot of useless shit about each other." I laugh, and he continues. "But over the past month, and this may come as a shock, I may have developed some feelings for you Syd."
My breathing stops. My head starts to swirl, and my hands shake. Is this a joke? Ohmygod not now ohmygod. I scramble to grab my bag and rummage to find my anxiety medication. My hand is slipping, and I can't get the cap off.
"Syd? Syd!" He grabs the bottle and quickly hands me a pill. I down it instantly, then start wheezing. I point at the pocket of my backpack, and he unzips it in a frenzy, his fingers closing on my red inhaler. He hands it to me, and it takes me two doses before I can breathe. I put my head down on the desk, panting and shaking.
"Sydney? Another one?" This was my third attack this week, and with my asthma being elevated due to the shit in the air, I wasn't fairing well. I nod, and gesture for him to go on.
"Well, what I guess I'm saying is that... oh Jesus Syd. I'm in love with you, okay?"
I shake my head. "Adam that's not funny."
He continues. "I'm in love with you, Sydney Daniels. I'm in love with how you always wear black, and how you sing along to the radio even when you think that I can't hear you. I'm in love with the way you smoke, even though we're both going to have black lungs by the time you turn 18. I'm in love with the little giggle you have when you're pretending to be mad, and how you always have winged eyeliner on because you want to fly away. I'm in love with every inch of you, and I guess I just hope that you could love me too."
Tears sting my eyes, and Adam wipes my cheek with his coat sleeve. I look into his eyes, and I shake my head. "You don't love me," I croak.
Adam's eyes get big. "No, Sydney, you don't understand-"
"No, Adam, you don't understand. Guys like you don't love people like me."
"And what kind of person are you, Sydney?"
"A FREAK, ADAM," I shout. "I'M A FREAK, AND I'M UNLOVEABLE, AND I WILL FILL YOUR LIFE WITH POISON."
And then I ran away. I left Adam Bretter, the boy I'm in love with, sitting in his desk, while I ran away.
YOU ARE READING
Wings
General FictionSydney Daniels was born on March 26, 1997 at 5 pounds, 4 ounces. Sydney Daniels died 17 years later at 90 pounds, 0 ounces. This is her story of everything in between.
