Life Goes On Without You (Rewrite)

Loaded Statements

You could only run so far, hide so well, in a school where everyone knew one another. A small student body which was teeming with rumours already. A ghost that spread it's spindling arms, a whispered wind in every step I took.

That's her.

What is she going to do?

If I was her, I would leave and never come back.

The last comment was duly noted, I tried to supress the nausea lurching through me. The truth was I did not know where I was going, or where I was meant to be. I was reeling from the interaction, being insulted was nothing new but, it was that particular insult, one laced with ignorance, the sharpness of words that I had been cut by far too many times.

Aimless, was one way of describing it.

So much for a new slate.

Reinvention was never my forte.

I tired not to sniff, tried to keep the tears locked to my irises, a mantra my brother had drilled into me, surfacing as I took a deep breath, a lungful of air to purge the feelings of despair, and replace them with something as innocuous as oxygen.

Don't let them see you bleed.

Don't let them see you cry.

If I thought hard enough, willed myself into shifting what had really happened, I could almost convince myself that I had run not because I was afraid but because I would not let them see me bleed.

"Ah," a voice too old to belong to a student cut through my thoughts, "You must be Amina. I was wondering where we misplaced you,"

It was a half-hearted joke, but the chipper tone of the teacher, stopped it from falling completely flat.

"Oh, yes sorry, here, I am," awkwardness spread after my words, but he offered me a soft smile.

"Well, I am Mr Raynor," he held out a hand for me to shake, and after a moment of me staring at it, he retreated the outstretched palm, "Oh, my apologies, I'm not sure if you can or can't shake my hands. Some of my Muslim friends say it's fine, some don't, it's all a real jumble, must be hard, remembering to do everything," this time, he spoke without the malice many did.

It wasn't a pitying, it must be hard for you, sort of tone.

It was a genuine intrigue, it appeared from his lanyard adorned with a rather garish orange Pi pin, and the grid paper shirt that he was a Maths teacher, he was probably figuring our the logistics, and the probability of me forgetting an Islamic rule was.

"Not, really, but it can be..." I trailed off, my gaze accidently settling on the figure of Zac, he looked pensive, his lips curled into a frown as he stared back at me, "hard." I finished.

"Yes, it can be. Being new and all, Rosewood is a rather small town I'm surprised anyone would come here willingly."

I laughed softly, "Why not?"

"It's quite boring, nothing much happens, if you want excitement, you should go to the town over Heronden. That's where I'm from anyways. It was quite a kerfuffle when I moved here from Heron Hall, it was rather polarising for me to abandon the school there, and come here to Rosewood of all places."

"The betrayal of the century," said by anyone else I would have laughed, but there was nothing to be amused about when Zac was staring me down as though I was a bug on his windscreen, annoying, miniscule and of need of eradication.

I kept my scowl at bay, even when Mr Raynor, turned to Zac, "Ah, if it isn't our resident Head Boy. I was just about to come find you. You must have met Amina by now, right Zac, you are always so friendly with the exchange students,"