"Today, however can change things for better or worse. The outcome depends on you."
When a marriage fails the residue trickles down to everyone in the family. Sixteen-year-old Daya Nicole Johnston must fight to understand what is happening in her li...
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*Nehru (Neo) Zhao*
After what felt like ten hours of willing myself into numbness, World History ended. I waited until everyone else left class before I got up to avoid a swarm of people seeing my red solo cup-esque face.
"Miss Johnston, may I speak with you for a moment?" My mouth gaped open, "Uh, yes ma'am."
I walked over to her desk without making direct eye contact as she clarified, "I heard about your incident the other day and wanted to make sure you were alright."
I pushed my hair into my face and tried to sound like I hadn't been softly crying all class. "Um, I think I'd feel better if people stopped asking me that, really. I'm sorry, it makes me feel I'm a bomb or something and if people don't constantly check on me, I'll explode. I'm fine, truly."
She looked up at me with concern, "Sweetheart, if you need anything or just want someone to talk to, I am available third block or after school."
I nodded, "Thanks Ms. Garrison, goodbye." And I darted out of there.
My person shifted through the hallway as anticipation built for my next class. I was dreading third block the most because I had that class alone with Jay. However, fourth was my second class with Liv. So... it was really a toss up to which one I was looking forward to least.
I sat at the front of the class by the teacher, because I knew that ever since Jay got his new friend group, they all sat in the back and pretended to be idiots.
He wouldn't sit away from them because that would be suspicious and if he tried to talk to me about anything of substance or that was lengthy, the teacher would stop him. We made instant eye contact when he walked in and I could tell that my plan had worked. I could avoid him for a little while longer, but not forever.
Sometime in the middle of class, he got up to ask the teacher if he could be excused to the restroom and dropped a note on my desk like he used to do when we were kids.
A part of me wanted to crumble it up and throw it at him, but I restrained myself. A feeling in my chest told me that he had his eyes glued on me the entire class before he excused himself. From the second he walked into class I could tell all his attention was on me.
I stroked the folded piece of paper with my thumb for a few minutes. I played with the edges, teasing myself with wonder over the contents of the note.
When he walked back in I took notice to how long it had been since I had been having a staring contest with this paper. His face sunk when he walked past me and saw that the note remained unopen.
A sigh escaped my lips, and I finally took the note in both of my hands. My hands unfolded the paper one time, but not fully to where the contents were revealed. I put it back down on the desk and ran my fingers over the new area that was opened to me. I could see words through the paper, but I could not make out what it said.
