Rock, Paper, Scissors

12: Things Got Out of Control

The ride to the hospital was of course silent. I usually didn't like that but it was perfect for me to think of a plan to get the so-called 'solid proof' Mr. Ferguson needed. Once at the hospital I got a little more time to think while I waited to be called.

As I came back to the waiting area, Nick quickly noticed me and raised from his seat. He looked at me in expectation, waiting for me to give him the verdict. A joined him with a mischievous idea on my mind.

"You're right, it's broke. Like almost everything is broken. See this finger?" I said, showing him my middle finger. "It's broken in like eleven different places. I need to wait a bit for the cast."

He looked at me as if doubting me but reluctantly gets back to his hard-plastic dark blue chair. He adjusted himself in a desperate move to be more comfortable.

I burst into laughter, not caring if I risked a forced psychiatric hospitalization. My laugh really got out of control when I saw a confused frown drawing on Nick's face followed by realization. Only a loud 'shush' from a nearby scaring looking lady made me stop. Sort of.

Still having a hard time not to laugh, I got closer to him. "Just kidding. I told you, it's nothing. At least nothing that a little bit of ice won't solve." I grinned, happy, and proud of my little act.

Nick ran his hand through his hair. Frustrated, he got up and started walking out of the hospital. I joined him, a smirk on my lips. That was what you got when you forced me to do things I didn't want to do.

I glanced at him and catch the corner of his lips twitch slightly up.

Amused huh? And here thought he'd be pissed at my subtle way of giving him the finger.

We arrived at the school's parking lot but Nick couldn't bother to stop his car near mine. I think he was making me pay for the little joke I had pulled before. He parked the car and turned the engine off.

"Aren't you going home? School's already over," I asked.

"No."

My eyebrow raised at his one-syllable reply. "Okay, well, thank you for the ride. See you never. Bye." I smiled, got out of the car, and ran to mine, ready to go home and drawn in my misery under a hot shower.

The truth was that I was sad, I was broken. I was heartbroken. I trusted Manson despite having my guts screaming that it was strange for him to like me. I guess I wanted to believe it, I wanted to believe that a nice handsome guy could fall for me; that what was written in those secret notes was real. I remember the exhilarating feeling I had every time I discovered a new one laying in my locker. How strong my heart pounded, how hot I felt. Now it's cold, weak, and I hated myself for it. I hated that Manson manipulated me from the start. I hated that I trusted him. I hated that I fell for him. I hated he broke my heart and I hated that I let him. And above all: I hated to admit it.

I wasn't going to cry though. No, that's not me. I'm more the type of person to get revenge. I wouldn't retaliate if it was for something little, a simple misunderstanding or clash, but this? This had broken my heart in pieces, those little fragile pieces I'd managed to put back together. Now scattered all over again. It was wrong in all ways. It was wrong that he'd used and hurt me, it was wrong that he had bullied Micah for so long and it was wrong that no one did anything just because he had the right father.

As soon as I got home, I texted Noah with my plan. It was dangerous. It could either go well or... I'd rather not think about it. I took a shower and joined my parents. My father's sense of humor was enough to distract me during dinner until I plunged in my homework to avoid thinking of Manson. But as I was ready to go to bed, I saw my pink box. The box I used to store all of Manson's notes. I looked at it and felt utter disgust, but it had to be done. I opened the box and took the notes, taking time to read each one before tearing them.

'You don't know me, but I wish you did, Since the moment I've noticed you'

More like: 'since the moment you decided to use me to get back at my friend'.

'Just wanted to say I think you're glowing today'

'We're matching today, you look cute in that blue sweater.'

I remember looking everywhere for a guy wearing a dark blue sweater that day. How pathetic.

'Roses are red, Violets are blue, sugar might be sweet but not as sweet as you.'

Huh, that had made me melt at the time, now it felt so lame. It gave me an idea though, I started scribbling. I took the paper and folded it neatly, storing it between the pages of my notebook, ready to be used.

The next day Noah didn't leave my side, he was too afraid that Manson would 'attack' me. I don't think Noah is the best bodyguard out there though, I would trust a grannie more than him to throw a punch if needed. But I accepted it, I knew he felt better being at my side and I knew he wasn't there to protect me from Manson but to be there just in case I needed a shoulder to cry. As if.

Noah might not have been as far off as I thought because when I crossed Manson in the corridors my whole body tensed. He didn't even glance at me. And as hard as it was to admit it: it hurt.

Lunch had been quite quiet. I didn't want to think or talk about Manson, so Noah tried to distract me by talking about rumors he heard here and there. Apparently, Mrs. Sanders, my history teacher was having an affair with Noah's math teacher and students had nothing better to talk about. I was glad though, glad that they didn't realize Manson and I were no longer a thing; relieved that they weren't talking about me. I knew it was a question of time.

Something shifted to my left, catching my attention. I turned my head to see Nick casually sitting next to me. I looked around and realized the trio had decided to join our table for no apparent reason or invitation. I turned, dumbfounded, to Micah who was sitting next to Noah.

"What are you doing?"

"Eating lunch with my friends. There's no reason for me not to."

"There has never been a reason for you too," I pointed, still hurt that he didn't trust us, that he thought we couldn't handle it or make a decision for ourselves.

"Just let it go angel," Tyler said.

'Angel'!? Great, this lunch was going to be promising.