Sabella

{Sabella} Chapter 1: Jackson is Missing

So I lied. I lied about why I had bruises. I lied about who wrote mean messages on my desk and locker. I blamed it on some girls in my class. Jackson would never hit a girl, but he did give them some choice language, which was fine by me. They bullied me too, just not as much.

One day, Ethan confronted me. The most cliché of all places, behind a dumpster, was where our rendezvous took place. I underestimated how oblivious Jackson was though, because this particular time, he followed me. As soon as Ethan laid a finger on me, Jackson darted out of the shadows and tackled him. Needless to say, my best friend in the whole world lost.

But, once we got back to his house, I held an ice-pack to his black eye for the longest time, and we talked. He told me that I should have told him about it before and made me promise not to keep secrets anymore. Seeing him all beat up, because of me, of course I complied. In return he promised to never keep secrets from me either.

We didn't keep secrets from each other. Whatever happened to Jackson, he didn't plan it. His mom must have known too. Before I had time to brainstorm where else he could be, she had already called the police. She gave them Jackson's description: curly brown hair, dark blue eyes, on the shorter side and skinny, not particularly muscular. She described what he was wearing that morning and where he was last.

The whole time, the only thoughts that crossed my mind were grim. Will I ever see him again? Does he know how much I love him? Is he hurt? Is he alive?

~

Three days later, the police stopped looking.

Laying on my bed, facing the ceiling, I let my tears fall down my face into my hair and on the sheets. Tears were just about everywhere, my bed being no exception. There was a deep red rose in a vase on top of my dresser. For Jackson from the school district.

There was a memorial assembly at our school. They proclaimed him dead after three measly days. They planted a tree for him. All his acquaintances went on and on speaking about how great he was. How likable he was. How he will be missed.

So impersonal. So fake. Everything Jackson would have disliked.

His mother asked me to speak at his funeral. She asked me to tell all of Jackson's friends and family how great he was. How he would have wanted all of us to move on.

It was going to be hard enough to attend his funeral. But she asked me to speak at it. Every time I thought about what I would possibly say at my best friend's funeral, I screamed profanities in my head. I cowered in the corner of my room and sobbed for hours on end.

I cursed myself for the small hope, burning in the pit of my stomach. They didn't find a body. He could still be alive. Alive in a place with no cellphone service and a place where he had no human decency. He hadn't tried to contact anyone yet. If he wasn't dead, I would kill him when I found him for not telling me he was okay.

When I found him. Thinking thoughts like that was poisonous. I rolled over onto my side, looking out the window at the bright blue sky. That day was too pretty. The sun was too bright and everyone got over Jackson's death too quickly. He deserved to be mourned for years. He deserved much more than a wilting rose in a vase.

Pure anger coursing through me, I nearly ripped the curtains while whipping them shut. I then melted down back onto my bed and curled up into a ball.

Just as I was about to start sobbing again, I heard a tapping by my window.

No one tapped at my window. No one but Jackson. He'd always use the fire escape, since my father insisted that my door stayed open at all times when he was in my room, but Jackson swore a lot. As sweet and courteous as he was, it was hard to keep his sailor mouth under control, and my father hated swearing.

Nervously, I slid off the bed and put on my slippers. They went well with my pink pajama bottoms and my unicorn t-shirt. Although my frizzy black hair was disheveled, I was too scared and curious to run a brush through it.

I moved the curtain out of the way.

I proceeded to scream as I got a glimpse of my best friend, or at least someone who looked a hell of a lot like him.

However, I immediately regretted screaming when my visitor jumped back and fell off the fire escape.

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A major plot point will be revealed if you can figure out what this says. Don't forget to let me know what you think and as always...

Lots of Love!