English was the last lesson of the day and, true to his word, Richard played the role of an angry ex perfectly. He arrived just before the bell rang and the whole class watched as he stalked towards his desk right behind me, not even glancing at me as he took his seat. If I didn't know he was pretending, I would've felt extremely hurt.
But then the students' curious gazes turned to me. I felt heat rush to my cheeks and I quickly ducked my head into my textbook. I didn't care about the glares I got from the student body in the corridors, but a lot of these students I was quite well acquainted with; which is a different story.
Their gazes weren't judging, more along the lines of: why did you cheat on him? You're not the kind to cheat on someone.
The lesson dragged on like any other until ten minutes to the end of the class. I leaned over to ask Amy what an answer was and, without looking at me, Amy pushed the book in my direction.
I blinked. "Is ... everything okay?" I asked with a frown.
"Yup," Amy responded, but she refused to look at me as she continued to write in her book.
My frown deepened but I glanced at the page, silently writing down the answer before handing the book back to her with a soft 'thanks'.
She didn't respond as she took her book. I was perplexed by her behaviour. What did I do?
The bell rang, cutting off my train of thought and I began packing my things. When I looked up again, Amy had already disappeared. I frowned.
"Hey, you ready to go?" I looked at Anne and nodded, grabbing my bag.
"So, what's the deal with you and Richard?" Anne asked once we were out of the classroom. Students bustled around us, drowning out our conversation.
"We decided to 'break-up'. He's just playing the role of a boyfriend upset about finding out his girlfriend cheated on him," I explained and Anne nodded.
"Doesn't put you in a very good light, does it?"
"No," I agreed and frowned. "What's up with Amy? She's been acting weird."
Anne shrugged. "I haven't noticed anything. Maybe she's just having an off day?"
"Maybe ..." I trailed off, not convinced.
I've known Amy her whole life (I'm eight months older than her), and I had a feeling that there was more to her behaviour than an off day – a lot more.
-
"Come on, Dobey, let's go for a walk," I said later that evening as I grabbed his lead.
I had already finished all my homework while I sat at my dad's workshop, so my evening was free. Although exams were three months away, I didn't feel like studying. I just needed a walk to clear my head.
"Where are you going?" Mom asked as I opened the front-door, drying a plate in her hands.
"I'm taking Dobey for a walk," I replied and she immediately shook her head.
"No, you're not. You're still grounded, remember? That means no more walks. Now go back to your room."
My eyes widened in disbelief. "But ... Dobey needs his walks."
She couldn't be serious. I barely have a social life as it is; now she wants to take away my walks?
"Your father and I can exercise him; you're not leaving this house," Mom said and fixed me with a hard stare.
I pressed my lips into a thin line, trying my best to keep from snarling at her. I looked away and closed the door, unlatched the lead from Dobey's collar, before turning on my heel and marching off to my room - closing my door roughly behind me – making sure my mom heard it.
-
The next day I was still in a mood from what my mom said. Having over-protective parents already meant I barely had a life. I officially now have no life other than school. Which is hardly a life, now is it?
A scowl was set on my face as I marched into the school building and straight to my locker. I roughly swopped books and slammed the locker shut with such force that a small freshman jumped, dropping her books on the floor. I turned at the sound and instantly felt bad. I took a deep breath to calm myself before going to help her.
"Sorry," I muttered as I grabbed some papers that were strewn about the floor.
"Th-that's okay," she said.
I paused when I felt a gaze on me and slowly looked up from my crouched position.
My heart jumped in my throat when my eyes met chocolate brown and goose-bumps flooded my skin. Cole stood about twenty feet from me, his right hand tucked in his pants pocket while his left hand held onto his black blazer which was slung over his left shoulder, drawing attention to the swirling ink on his arm. His eyes bore straight into mine, but they were unreadable.
I swallowed the lump in my throat and quickly handed the freshman the last of her papers. "Sorry once again," I muttered hastily before practically running to my first class (which wasn't fast considering the fact that my rib is still broken), trying to ignore the heated gaze on my back as my heart thudded in my chest.
-
I'm someone who has had many, many awkward encounters in my life, but all of them combined could not have prepared me for the torturous hour of English that came in third period. Why? Because the two boys that I have broken up with in the course of forty-eight hours sat next to each other right behind me.
You can't get any more awkward than that.
Granted, Richard and I are still on speaking terms after school, but it did not make it any easier. Amy was still acting weird and the whole time I could feel Cole's scorching gaze on my back. Not to mention that everyone in the class kept stealing glances my way.
In short, for the excruciating sixty-minute long lesson, I buried my nose deep inside my textbook. As soon as the bell rang signalling break, I was definitely the first one out of there.
I immediately made my way to the girls' bathroom. Upon entering, everyone grew silent and stared at me. News had spread of Richard and I breaking up; now begs the question of why?
I tried to ignore them as I walked to a cubicle and locked the door, letting out a deep breath as I leaned against the wall, my bag dropping to the floor. I just needed a break from everything for a moment.
I wasn't sure how long I stood there, but it was long enough that, by the time I moved, my knees clicked. I grabbed my bag and hoisted it onto my shoulders and was about to open the door when a voice stopped me.
"I just can't believe how downhill Lizzy's gone," a soft voice spoke and my eyes widened when I recognised it.
Amy.
My fingers froze on the latch.
"Are you talking about that whole drama between her and the heartthrobs?" a voice queried, but I didn't recognize it. She wasn't someone from our group.
"It's not a rumour if it's true," Amy replied.
"What?" the voice asked in disbelief. "Are you saying ..."
"Lizzy really is seeing Cole? Yes," Amy completed her sentence and I heard a bite in her words. Amy sighed. "I don't ... it's just like since she's been baptised, she's just become a different person."
Her words were like a slap to my face that I actually had to place a hand over my mouth to stifle a gasp. That was probably the biggest insult that someone has ever said to or about me; and I've had a lot of them this year. I've always been so proud of my baptism: it symbolises that you believe in God with all your heart and strive to be a perfect person in His eyes. The way Amy said that meant that I only did the baptism for show and never meant anything by it. In short, I might as well be following the devil.
"Why, what's she done?" the mystery voice asked intrigued.
"Well, she insulted my dress that I wore to the senior dance," Amy began to explain causing me to frown. I never insulted her dress; I just gave her my honest opinion. "And she lied about pre-photo arrangements. She said that she couldn't have photos taken before the dance because she didn't want my dog to urinate on her dress. Only for me to find out that her and Tyler had pictures taken before the dance at a different venue without even telling me."
My frown deepened. She had told me that she wasn't able to go anywhere else for the pictures, and I couldn't go to her house because the light fabric on my dress was very absorbent and would show the stains of their ill-behaved, she-dog beagle who doesn't know how to control her bladder. I didn't bother calling her to say I was having pictures taken elsewhere because I didn't think it would have made much of a difference.
Has she always been this sensitive to things?
"But that's not the worst," Amy said, her voice tight. "She knew I liked Cole and she still went after him, not even blinking an eye about how much it hurt me."
And then I felt as though a bucket of ice was thrown at my head.