Intoxicated

Chapter Six

I want this to be over. It's nothing but a waste of time - miserable. I take a bite from the cold-cut sandwich served in the cafeteria, stuffed with off-mayonnaise and dry turkey. At least the bread isn't mouldy or anything. I hope. 

Drowsy, metallic murmurs sound all throughout the cafeteria. Everyone's huddled at their designated tables, picking at others and their food mindlessly. I can't say much, except I'm sitting on my own - in the corner, back faced to the wall. That way, no one can stare at me from behind. If they want to glare, they have to do it to my face. 

Cowards. I take another mouthful of the sandwich. At least it's bland enough that I can't taste how terrible it is. Well, for the most part. I set it down and pick up my water bottle, unscrewing the cap as I scan the room. 

It's made of white undertones, though more off-white than anything. Not sure if it was always like that or not. The only colour is the dark blue stools surrounding each table. Other than that, it's as lively as a hospital. I've always hated them, almost as much as I hate this stupid school. 

My eyes wander to the front of the cafeteria, in the far corner. Where loud, ignorant laughter erupts. Of course it's them, I think as I take a gulp from my water, glowering at Jace and his group of pretentious pricks. Their laughter rings in my ears. I tighten the cap on my drink bottle. Could they get any louder? 

I nudge my drink bottle about, watching them from afar. Where's Noah... It's hard to make out his face when they all have the same basic, short-cut brown hair and sport jumpers. I can't even remember what they play - it must be rugby or something, given all the large fields here in this town. 

I need to search him up when I get home. Stalker-ish or not, I want to find out what happened. Or need to. There's just the matter of... well, actually approaching Noah and finding a way to talk to him. Without getting punched in the face, too. Wasn't he friends with Alex? Or at least, he didn't try to beat either of us up? 

Jace and his group start to rise to their feet just as the bell rings, scrunching up bits of rubbish onto their trays and leaving them there. 

Pieces of shit, I think as I get up, taking my tray with me. You could at least clean up after yourselves - trash has to look out for each other. I slide mine into the bin, setting the tray on the shelf as I make my way out into the hall. Others bump and shove past.

I should be used to it by now, but -

"Ooof!" I stumble back, rubbing my now sore forehead. 

"Shit -" Hisses a voice, and not just any voice -

My eyes widen in alarm. "Sadie," I blurt, my mind racing faster than my heart. Her blue-green eyes sharpen, darkened with eyeliner and thick mascara. I haven't talked to her since - I mean, I - "I-I'm sorry. I should've watched where I was going." 

Her eyes hold mine for what feels like forever, before her smooth honey coloured face creases. "Well maybe next time, watch." She snaps, giving me one last icy glare before shouldering past, her long, sleek ponytail whipping as she walks away.

The thud of her shoulder on mine lingers. I watch her as she's swallowed up in the swarm of students. Nothing's changed, really - between us. 

Except Alex - that we both lost him. For good. 

None of this makes sense. Maths is supposed to be logical, a problem solver - not cause them. What is this bullshit? I drop my pen on my book, staring at the board with strained eyes. A dull ache starts on either side of my head. Perfect, I think. Another headache. Just what I need. 

"Alright there, Ms. Wright?"

I turn to see Mr. Cornwell standing beside me, peering down at my messy notes through his small, rectangular glasses that sit too far down on his nose. The one that sticks out. I mean, how can he even see like that? And why can't he keep his beak of a nose out of my business? 

"Yes, I'm fine." I reply through a tight jaw, re-gripping my pen. He raises a bushy gray brow. "Thanks." I add, giving a half-smile for good measure. Now please leave.

Mr. Cornwell only leans closer, squinting still. "Are you sure?" he prompts, looking down at me. "I could always get someone to help you."

Isn't that what you're meant to do? I shake my head. "It's fine," I assure him, my voice soft but insistent.

Now please, fuck off. 

The feeling of someone's eyes on me rises. I follow it, finding a familiar pair on me - a scowl. Jace. I can't decide whether I want to punch him or just walk out the classroom and go home. Ever so slowly, Jace narrows his eyes back to the front. 

Mr. Cornwell nods. "Very well." And stalks off.

Thank - no. I really need to come up with an alternative. Thank fuck. That works.

It's over. Finally, I think as I get up and collect my things, cramming them into my worn black bag. I don't know how I'm supposed to keep any of this up, but it's another day down, I guess. Only a billion more to go - assuming I make it that far.

Of course I will, I scold myself. Or more, my inner counsellor, thanks to my actual counsellor. Who I see every week. Positive thinking, remember? 

Great.

I wrangle my bag on and go to leave, ignoring Mr. Cornwell's pitying nod. I can feel Jace's presence a couple people behind me. There's never a time I'm not aware of it. I squeeze out the door, sticking close to the side so I don't get shoved. The sound of the bell is drowned out by the chorus of chatter and whoops.

The school day is done. One in a million. 

God, that's depressing. It pretty much wastes our entire lives. Our youth - the most important part. Or so the adults say. Something snags my bag. 

I'm yanked back before I can see. A few people step back as I struggle to regain balance. 

Someone's hot, smelly breath brushes against my face. "Missed you yesterday, Ms. Wright."

My nostrils flare. Jace. "Let go -"

He releases me, but doesn't back off. "No running this time, okay?" he bargains, his dark brown eyes boring into mine. Almost blazing. "Or I'll make it worse."

Something quakes inside of me - I can't tell whether it's fear or anger. I keep my mouth shut.

He takes a step closer, towering over me. A few people glance over, turning a blind eye. "Are you gonna say something or what?" he spits, his clenched fists hanging at his sides. "Too traumatised to speak after your lover boy got hit by a car?" 

All I can feel is my heart pounding. Don't bite back, I think. Don't make it worse. 

Jace folds his arms, his face inches from mine. "Did he even get buried? Or just burned? I bet they kept the casket closed - no one wants to see roadkill. How squashed was he on a scale from -"

I curl my fist. And before I know it, it snaps like a rubber band against his face - which turns rigid with rage.

He lowers his hand from his now red-marked jaw. "You're dead."

I made it worse.