six - is it being greedy to need somebody to see me?
I'm slowly starting to regret my decision.
It isn't Rich's fault at all, no. I just hate social interaction. Really badly. I'm sitting at a table with him and his friends who I don't know; the kind of people who treated me like garbage on my first day, like the tall, athletic-looking black guy, and the half-blonde girl who's always attached to her phone (and also the tall guy?) and whose wardrobe appears to consist of just crop tops. I don't remember their names, even though Rich introduced them to me. I guess he did that when I spaced out or whatever it was to avoid having a panic attack.
But there's good things in this lunch, I guess-like Rich. He's been keeping me occupied, even though he's talking with his friends. I've just been looking at him. I like looking at him. He's pretty.
He grabs my hand like it's the most casual thing in the world; he doesn't even take his eyes off his friends. He doesn't seem to mind my trembling. Our hands are on the table, on display for the whole entire world to see.
"Aren't you gonna eat?" He asks me. I don't have a lunch today. Oops.
"Oh...I'm not hungry." I tell him, which isn't a lie. If I ate, I'd probably puke it all up because of how nervous I am.
"Awh, does little Richie finally have a boyfriend? He's growing up, Jake," the girl interrupts our conversation. She nudges the guy's shoulder. He smiles and laughs, and then she smiles and laughs. I feel my face go red.
"What?" Rich lets go of my hand. It hurts more than it should. "No. We're not-we aren't a thing."
Ouch.
"Sure, whatever you say, Richie," the girl teases.
"Stop calling me Richie! It's so annoying," he says, but he doesn't look annoyed. Hell, he's even smiling, which makes me feel the happiest I can feel in this situation.
"Wait," the other guy-Jake, I think his name is-looks right at me. He inspects me for a moment. Yes, inspects. It's making me feel uneasy. "Didn't you go to school across town?"
Something bad is about to happen! My brain says. I wish I had something to grab onto, like, oh, I don't know, Rich's hand? But that's not happening any time soon, so I grab onto the sides of the seat underneath me.
"Yeah," I reply, and I even nod to get my point across. "I, ah, I switched schools just a-just a few, uh, weeks ago."
"You were a part of that stoner crew," the unnamed girl says. Her tone is just as bitchy as I expected it to be, which annoys me. They weren't a stoner crew, they were my friends. They just happened to smoke weed. I just happened to smoke with them.
"Yeah. Yeah, I was definitely part of a stoner crew," It's supposed to be sarcasm, but I sound like I'm telling the truth. Fuck.
Rich cuts in, "A stoner crew? What?"
"Yeah, whatever. So you knew Brooke, right? Weren't you like, her boyfriend or something?"
And that's the question that completely breaks me.
I can't move. I thought I could escape this. I thought I could escape her, but I can't.
"Yeah, I, ah, I guess I knew her. But I-I wasn't her boyfriend," but everyone knew she felt something more for me. Hell, even I knew that she felt more for me, and I-
"You were there when it happened, right? That must've been so awful, it really must have been." There's no real sympathy in this chick's voice. That's because she's mocking me. She's fucking mocking me, and I know she's mocking me.
I try to speak, but nothing comes out. Fuck this. Fuck these kids. Fuck the smiles they're struggling to hold back-this is my trauma we're talking about. Of course I'm going to sit here frozen still, just like this, as memories I tried to block out come back.
It isn't fucking funny. It makes me want to curl up and die. I just want to curl up and fucking die.
I force myself to stand up; my body feels so heavy. Forget how it feels when I grab my backpack-that feels like I'm being forced to hold up the sky. This is awful. This is so fucking awful, I hate this.
Rich grabs my arm, "Where are you going?"
"Bathroom." I say. He frowns. I feel like I owe him an explanation, so I come up with something on the spot. "I'm, uh...having my period."
And with that, I walk away. Jesus fuck, Jeremy. You couldn't have thought of a better excuse? You're such an idiot.
Luckily, when I get there, the bathroom's empty. I check every time when I decide to stick around and hide in a stall. Today, I decide to hide in the big stall, the same one I ate lunch in yesterday. Damn, that was yesterday. It feels like it was centuries ago.
I just vibe on the floor for a while, I guess, attempting to keep myself grounded before I spiral into a panic attack. It isn't helping a whole lot, but whatevs. I hear the door open, and I go completely still. Someone being in here is honestly the least of my concern, though; I'm just trying to avoid thinking about it. Just don't think about Brooke. Don't think about Brooke.
That doesn't help. I start thinking. Long blonde hair, my sweater, that reassuring, happy smile, the passenger's seat-
No! Stop. No more of that.
I thought that maybe I could have one good day, but no. I had to find out that everyone just makes fun of me behind my back. It's hard to forget what happened when people at school know what happened, when they know how fucked up I am.
Wait a minute, what the hell is that noise? Is someone really in here? And are they...peeing? Ew. Maybe the bathroom isn't the best place to have a breakdown.
The door opens again. Great, more guys have come in here to either pee or bother me or take a shit. It's so annoying. I hate it here.
"Hey," wait, it's Rich's voice. Forget what I said a second ago. "are you in here?"
"Last stall." I catch myself saying.
I hear silence, and then some footsteps. Then I hear my crush again. "Can I...come in?"
"Yeah," I mumble. "I'm not actually having my period."
I get up and unlock the stall door, and there's Rich. We stare at each other for a few moments. It's so awkward. I finally notice our height difference-he's shorter than me, but he's still not the shortest guy I've liked, which is weird.
I look down. I don't want him to see me. I'm pathetic. I can't even handle one conversation about it without getting what my therapist would call triggered; I'm just that screwed up.
"I'm sorry. They're douchebags and you don't have to sit with us again," he says. Finally, something I can fucking agree with. "I just...I really do like you. I don't wanna screw this up before it starts."
He likes me. Does he mean that in a friend way, or in a crush way?
He definitely meant it in a friend way! Are you crazy, Jeremy? He stopped holding your hand at the lunch table when they noticed, he denied being your boyfriend; he's probably straight.
I keep my gaze fixated on the floor, on his shoes; black combat boots. Of course-I haven't known Rich for too long, but those boots really suit his entire...vibe.
"Are you okay?" He asks, resting a hand on my arm. He needs to stop being so nice to me. This is why I have trust issues. One moment they're nice, then they're mean in the next.
I nod. "Yeah. I'm okay."
"Alright, good," he says, taking my hand into his again. Goddamnit. "you ready to head back?"
"Um, actually...I'm good," I finally look at him again. "just go. I'll see you in class,"
"You sure?"
"I'm sure. Just go," It comes off a little harsh, but nowhere near scary.
Rich nods and lets go of my hand. "Alright. I'll see you in class."
I watch him go. I watch the bathroom door close, and then I'm finally alone again. Being alone is so nice. I can just think-I could panic if I wanted to. There wouldn't be any interruptions, except for maybe the next bell.
A piece of green paper flutters to the floor from right above me. I spoke too soon; I'm not alone. I pick it up, unfold it, and I read over it; it's another space pun written in that familiar, messy handwriting. It's stupid enough to put a stupid smile on my stupid face.
Curious, I peek underneath the stall. I see white basketball shoes and the cuffs of someone's jeans. Those are not Rich's shoes or jean cuffs (he does not wear cuffed jeans, sadly), but somebody else's-a boy's. Rich just left, too.
If Rich isn't leaving the notes, then who is?
Before I can figure it out, this person leaves as quickly as I noticed him.
Huh.
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