Love Left Unrequited

Chapter 8

Chapter 8

"What exactly happened again? I'd be delighted to hear the story again," Celia mocked, and I rolled my eyes.

"Once more, this time for Catrina, who just decided to grace us with her presence," I motioned to Catrina, who had just plopped down beside us.

Jackie had called an emergency Wallflower and Associates meeting (a simple way for us nobodies to feel included) to discuss the matters that occurred last Friday night at the Winter Bash. Jackie knew I had left early that night, but I had spared her the details until just a few minutes ago. I wasn't much of communicator through texting, to say in the least. Currently, we were all seated, besides Phillip, who claimed he had a Robotics Club meeting this morning, in a square, our knees all touching. Jackie had barged into the stage, not caring if the theatre kids were rehearsing for this year's Phantom of the Opera, but I had to say, I was more of a Gerard Butler fan myself. I doubted I could watch and bear seeing a fake high school stand in, trying to claim his glory featured in the movie.

Jackie raised an eyebrow at me, curious to hear the story.

"I can't believe you allowed me to join this ridiculous 'club'," Catrina expressed.

"Ridiculous? That's preposterous!" Jackie exclaimed. "Octavia, you were saying?"

I gulped. "Prince Charming didn't show, but he came on his own to the Bash. I gave him the 'independent stallion' speech. Yes, before you ask, that is the same speech I give to myself every time I see a sappy couple. I seriously don't know how he has gone his entire washed-out life without noticing all of this stallion I'm rocking."

"Stallions are boys," Celia informed me.

"Yes, I know," I replied. "But would I inspire fear in the eyes of my nemesises using the word 'mare'? Don't think so, Celia. Don't think so."

"I think your grammar could handle that on its on," Catrina giggled.

I smacked her arm. "My grammar is certainly not lacking in any form."

"No, certainly not. You sound like the Queen of England sometimes. Lighten up. We were just messing with you," Jackie mocked, a smile present.

A laugh escaped my lips before I could hold it in. "Fine. This stallion admits defeat."

A shrill bell echoed around us, signaling that it was time to get to class. As I walked, every eye was on me, every whisper giggled around a corner about me. True to my style, I ignored it to the best of my ability.

"What a loser," I heard one girl say.

"Oh, you must be talking about yourself!" Catrina said, defending me. I raised an eyebrow at the scene. I'm surprised she stood up for me like that.

"I don't even know why they're talking about you. You left him, after all."

I shrugged. "There's nothing else to talk about, I guess."

"Whatever. They could talk about their dog's new manicures or something."

I shuddered. "I wouldn't want to be there for that."

"My point exactly."

Another bout of silence came over us, none of us knowing what to say now. "Doctor Who season seven comes back on in a few days," I say. A few nods are shared.

Jackie stood up and shouldered her bag. "Does anyone want to come with me to turn in a form to the office?"

"I will," I said, standing as well.

I followed her out of the door as we made our way through the school, neither of us walking fast. As we go, my eyes couldn't help but be held fast by an empty bulletin board that's standing alone outside of a deserted classroom. Actually, several deserted classrooms. This hallway was practically a ghost town.

"Wonder why they keep that up there," I said, pointing to the cork board.

"I don't know. Little pathetic thing, really."

"Yeah. Makes it seem like there's something actually going on here."

Jackie turned away from me and rifled through her bag. She pulled out a fresh sheet of paper and tore a piece off. "Take this," she said.

"What?" I asked, bewildered.

"Write a message on it. C'mon, like you said 'nobody uses this hallway.' See if anybody replies."

I averted her gaze. "I don't have a pen."

She tossed me a pen, and I frowned. "Well, uh . . .," I stuttered.

"Do it. Don't tell me you're a chicken."

"Of course not. I just think it's dumb."

"Right. Worst case, nobody will reply."

"Fine," I growled, scrawling a greeting on the paper.

"What'd you write?" she said, peeking over my shoulder.

"Hello. Standard greeting, thank you very much."

"This is exciting," she said a grin spreading over her face. "Initial it."

I almost slap an OG on it, until I reconsider. "What if somebody responds? What if they find me?"

"Well, can you think of any other names?"

"I always did like the name Chloe."

"Chloe it is. Last name?"

"Wilder?"

"Thornton Wilder?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. I blushed and nodded. She rolled her eyes.

"Our Town is good," I defended.

"No, no it isn't," she said, laughing. "Alright, Chloe Wilder it is."

I wrote CW on the paper, along with a little hyphen. Luckily, there is already a pushpin waiting for me, so I snagged it to the paper, which I have folded in half.

"Now we wait," I say with a laugh.

"What fun." She tugged me away from the scene and the lone paper attached to the bulletin board and towards her destination, the office. Once we reach the door, the bell rang overhead. I gave her a little salute and left.

"Jackie just made me pin a note to that bulletin board next to the auditorium," I said during English.

"There's a bulletin board there?" Celia asked. I nodded.

"That's . . . interesting."

"I doubt anyone will reply."

"Yeah, I agree."

The teacher shut us up after that, talking about Beowulf. I listened intently, or at least, tried. My mind kept on gravitating back to the note. I was curious to see if anyone would reply.

"Octavia?" she snapped.

"Yes?" I said, coming out of my trance.

"I asked who wrote Age of Innocence?"

"Uh," I said, racking my brain. "Edith Wharton?"

"Good." She turned back to the white board.

Soon enough, the class was over. The rest of the day flew by with ease, me slipping into dazes about nothing in particular. At the end of the day, when I exited my last class and am making my way over to the bulletin board where my note was, I noticed something that stops me in my tracks.d

Celia is attached to a familiar boy with a crop of brown hair. When I say attached, I mean that in the most literal sense. Lips touching, PDA expressing. My mouth opens slightly. Celia opens her eyes for a second, long enough to see me and turn them around so that I can see his face.

Spencer.

I take back what I said earlier- that was jealousy I felt the other day. Vance had just been blocking my way of seeing it. I immediately spun around and left the building, not looking back.

I guess there's a reason they call it unrequited love, right?

Author's Note:

Sorry I haven't updated in forever! But between meeting Stephenie Meyer and my husbands Max Irons and Jake Abel (which was so so so so so amazing!) it was hard to squeeze in time to make this chapter. I've been really busy with school and life so yeah. Have a nice day :)