What’s Underneath the Surface

by 

Evangelina Li Hope Ellison                       

Approximately 7,700  words

Chapter I                         

~Invisible or Intimidating~

Everyone cheers for him. Not me. I feel forgotten. Invisible. Though I have scored more than him, I am the one most forgotten. Why am I assumed to be the best, but don’t have anyone cheering for me? Or talking to me? A small soccer game with no one cheering for you isn’t that big of a deal. Oh, I guess. It might seem depressing, but it’s normal for me.00

“YAYY! YOU WERE SO AMAZING OUT THERE, MY ADORABLE LITTLE

TEDDY BEAR!” cheered Olivia Cameron from the sidelines. She ran up to him, squeezing him to death, rubbing her cheek against his. Darren Summers. A semi-popular guy. He has that cliche’ personality that you see in high school movies. Smart, handsome-ish guy who’s popular and got all the girls surrounding him? That kind of cliche’.

“Haha, Olivia! Off now, you’re embarrassing me!” Darren chuckled, actually loving the attention. You know me? You’re probably thinking that I’m that unpopular nerdy guy who gets picked on by Darren. Pshhhh, no. I am not nerdy. I am at the top of every one of my classes. I win all of the Spelling Bees. Almost anything you can throw at me, I can handle.

As people say, though, it’s lonely at the top. I mean, extremely lonely. Everyone avoids me. Sometimes, nasty glares are sent my way. If I talk to someone, they run away. But, many of them treat me as if I were invisible.

And that brings us to present time. In the soccer game. I lifted my head up slowly to the score. 6 to 4. A close call, for our team. I then swiveled my head towards Darren. There were now three small swarms gathering around him. I scored more than him. Why is he the only one who gets praised? What about me? Or the rest of my teammates? Even the coach barely realizes I’m here. Small tears started to drip from my eyes. You would congratulate someone who’s handsome and supposedly smart, but you won’t congratulate someone who won you the game?

“Now class, please flip to pages 547. Would anyone like to read the caption next to the page with the elephant?” asked Mr. Fennell quizzically. His bright blue eyes pierced the classroom. There was silence. “Anyone?” I closed my eyes and knew what would come next. “What about you, James?” My eyes shot open. Nevermind. I didn’t know what was coming. I lifted up my head, holding my blank gaze and attempting not to show my surprise. Being called on by a teacher was like a vegan eating an entire filet mignon in three seconds.

“Sure,” I mumbled. I looked down at the page. “Because ivory is so valuable to some humans, many elephants have been killed for their tusks. This trade is illegal today, but it has not been completely eliminated, and some elephant populations remain endangered.” I looked up blankly, waiting for approval. Mr. Fennell nodded.

“Good read. Now, if you flip to page 549, there is a capti-”

“Mr. Fennell?” called a voice from the back row. Mr. Fennell adjusted his glasses. “Darren?”

It’s strange. It’s almost as if I could hear the fangirls screaming from here, although there is no noise in the classroom. Darren was grinning from ear-to-ear as he spoke. “Is it okay if I read this one?” Once again, I could hear the silent screams piercing my eardrums. “Ahem, ahem. Africa’s total size is roughly 11.7 square miles, representing about a fifth of the earth’s total landmass. This makes it larger than India, China, Mexico, and a huge chunk of Europe combined.” Unlike me, he looked up with great confidence, flashing a smile. Mr. Fennell still had the same reaction. A slight nod. I thought about it for a moment. Mr. Fennell was most likely my favorite teacher. He didn’t treat any of the students higher than the others, unlike my other teachers, who almost seemed like they had admired him as well as all the students. Mr. Fennell was the only one who treated us equally. Even if I am at the top of my class in Social Studies, he still treated me as if I were a normal student with an average grade and not an “overly exceeding” or “below average” status. That made me feel good.

“Now, your assignment is to read 547 through 54…” I decided not to listen anymore. It’s not like my grades could get any better, though. Please don't ask. My brain can get a bit confusing. All I’m really saying is that I don’t want to be known as an overachieving or underachieving person. I just want to be known as the “hey, it’s your friendly neighborhood guy” person. Only Mr. Fennell treats me the way I want to be treated. A regular student, yes, that’s it. A regular, perfectly average student.

I rested my head on the desk. There was one thing, though. Most teachers just let me slide with not doing the reading or rarely the assignment, but Mr. Fennell, as I said, treats me like a normal student, so I have to do the work in this class. Don’t get me wrong, it’s easy, it just feels a little pointless. Then again, what isn’t pointless in life?

I scribbled down my answers quickly. The person sitting next to me snuck a peek at my answers and scribbled them down as well. Lousy cheater, I whispered in my head. I stared at him blankly until he looked back up at me. There was a moment of awkwardness, but small drops of fear dotted his eyes. He quickly looked down back at his paper. I decided to ignore him instead.

Silence. I loved it. It’s been a while since I’ve had complete and dead silence. No whispers. No noise. Just complete silence. The wind blew my hair into my face, though. That was a bit annoying. I was outside in the school courtyard, eating lunch alone. I was always alone. It doesn’t bother me at all. No, not at all. I took a small bite of my ham-and-cheese sandwich and munched it quietly.Staring up into the pacific-blue sky made me a little dizzy. I rested my head down on the table where I was sitting and stared up at the bright white clouds slowly moving across the sky. I could see different shapes in them, but they aren’t very clear. A horse… a phoenix… a bird -wait, no. That’s an actual bird-. My eyes automatically avoided the glaring sun, hiding behind the cloud shaped like a cat face. It was nice to be alone, but it was a little unsettling as well.

I stood up from the table I was sitting at and threw away the rest of my lunch. It’s not like I needed it. And plus, you shouldn’t overeat, it’s bad for your health. There was a door from the courtyard to the lunchroom and a door from the courtyard to the hallways. I decided to go into the door entering the lunchroom, even though I didn’t want to. It wouldn’t end well for me if the teachers started freaking out because they didn’t know where I was. When I opened the door, everyone looked at me and started whispering to each other. I simply ignored them and headed to class early.

There were some girls and boys in the hallways at this time, for some reason. I couldn’t help but overhear their conversations. It wasn’t what I expected, though. I saw the two girls in the hallways first. They didn’t have any reaction to me, but it’s probably because they don’t see me. I’m invisible to them. “Hey, what do you think her name is?” asked the second girl.

“Who knows. Maybe Samantha, or something. I don’t think we have a person named Samantha in 10th grade,” replied the first. A new student, maybe? Is that the gossip nowadays? I thought while walking past them. Next came the gang of boys. I had counted 5 in total.

“Duuuude, did you hear what’s going on on Saturday?” said the second.

“No, duuuude, what’s going on?” asked the first. “Yeah, duuuuude. Tell us,” pressed the fourth.

“There’s a HUGE football game duuuuude,” answered the second.

That was extremely annoying. I ha-ahem ahem, did not like how they dragged out their words. Especially the word, “dude”. I constantly stop myself from saying the “h” word. It’s spelt H.A.T.E. I sighed and decided to ignore the rest of the conversation. It’s not like they said anything pertaining me. I shut my eyes. Heading to my locker was not a problem, as I memorized the entire school’s layout. Scuffing of shoes suddenly filled the areas around me. I had a small feeling that some of the people in the hallways were moving out of my way. It was sad and disappointing to me. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t want to accidentally run into someone while my eyes are still closed, but it pains me to hear people are intimidated of me. When will there ever be someone who can approach me like a normal person? Or approach me at all?

I quickly twisted my combination into my locker. 43, 17,26. I looked at my schedule by habit, but I didn’t need to. I knew the class after lunchtime was Science. Recess wasn’t fun if no one was going to play with you, so I always decide to skip it. I pulled out my science binder with a little bit of struggle and headed to Mrs. Eberhart's class. She wasn’t startled by my early arrival. There was a model of our solar system hanging slightly above my desk. I ducked my head a little bit to not break it and sat at my desk, immediately opening my binder to my science book and starting to write in it. Unlike the class, I don’t work with the teacher. She has my own book for me that she checks.

“What book are you working in right now?” Mrs. Eberhart asked, facing the whiteboard, writing down the lesson plan.

“Science: Four, I think,” I responded quietly, scribbling down my answers in my book. Mrs. Eberhart nodded, still not turning around to face me directly. Mrs. Eberhart walked away from the whiteboard, then headed over to the counter where there was a dark metallic sink, measuring tools, and a triple-beam balance. I couldn’t tell what she was doing. Instead, I decided to stare aimlessly out the window. Almost nothing cures my boredom. I watched as the boys and girls lined up. There was a whistle in one of the teacher’s mouths. If the students were lining up, that means the bell was going to ring in a matter of minutes.

“You should probably hurry if you want to leave before the rest of the class arrives,” states Mrs. Eberhart, almost always knowing my motives and my routine. Skip recess and come to class. Finish before the bell rings and classes start. The last problem gave me a hard time, but honestly, who doesn’t give me a hard time?

Scribbling down the answers hastily, I closed my book, ducked my head, and left. 

“Have a nice day,” she mumbled with assumption that I had already finished.  

All the students seemed like they had carved a path for me when I walk in the hallways. Some people would love for that to happen to them, to be feared and to be “respected”. Well, they’ll know what true isolation means when and if it actually happens to them. My brain sighed and told my feet to walk faster.

Now, it stated before that I was early to Mrs. Eberhart’s class, so what about my other classes? You’ll be off schedule and not working with the people you usually are supposed to work with. Then, at the end of the day, you’ll have an entire class period of school left with nothing to do. See, I don’t get off school early, if that’s what you were thinking. I just… have recess, I guess. And also, I consider those kids my classmates, since they are in the same class. I never work with them, though. Or rather, they never work with me.

“The glass inside of you is weak, due to shatter. What’s easy is to let it break

 completely. What’s hard is to repair it.”

Chapter II

~Again to Slice~

Home was always where I wanted to be, but there was really no place to go home. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not homeless. My family is too spoiled for that. The truth is that my family is quite rich, but not in the manner you’re thinking of. Yes, they’re rich in money, but they don’t use it to spend on extremely fancy cars or clothes. It’s more of utensils, depending on what they want. If they want it, they get it. Simple as that.

My parents don’t like to share what they do. I don’t understand, as most parents would love to share what they do with their children. The ones who raised me are a complete mystery to me except for their looks and their voices. No spoken words from them at all. It almost feels as if they don’t know I’m here. After about three years I have attempted to talk or communicate with my parents, I realized that I was just as invisible to them as I was to almost everyone else. I gave up trying because all they ever said to me was, “Not now, son,” or “We’re busy. Talk to me later.” I just wanted some loving, kind-hearted parents who would pay attention to me and give me the respect that I’ve ever so desired.

I easily unlocked the door to my house. There standing in front of me was a regular house. An average-sized house. With tons of eccentric and fancy utensils. I hung up my backpack and jacket when I walked inside. My feet automatically slipped of the black sneakers I was wearing on my feet. I padded into the house, careful not to make any noise. Even if I couldn’t see or hear them, I knew that my parents were home. Somewhere. In their workplace. I went up the stairs to where my room led. Next to my room was the parents’ room. There was only silence coming from it, and even if I creaked open the door, they would hear it

Let’s take a tour of my room: bed to the left, desk on the right side of the bed, drawers to the right. That’s it. For a teenager, it’s a quite boring room. Oh, there was a closet, too. Although, all my drawers contained clothes. The closet held some of my items that I keep to myself. I pushed open my closet to reveal some beautiful pieces of artwork that I had painted and drew. There were some hidden things behind the artwork, but what’s behind it doesn’t really matter.

I hopped onto my computer, typed in my password, and got onto the school’s website. The teachers usually posts personal assignments for me. I checked my classes quickly, and it was all a bunch of stuff I had already learned. I leaned back in my chair and sighed. Why couldn’t I just be like everyone else and have a normal life? A normal family? Couldn’t they at least address me? I unknowingly kept thinking about the one thing I swore myself not to think about.

I remembered some words spoken to me from a kind priestess I met when I was young. I was taken to her by my deceased grandmother, who noticed how sad I was and had believed in christianity. Those words affected me almost my entire life, and I could remember the memory clearly

Past

“My dear, we’re going to visit someone,” spoke a soft and sweet voice. My bright green eyes opened to reveal bright lights and an elderly woman with lovely, short and silver hair. Her dull blue eyes stared into mine, filled with kindness and… some other emotion. Worry? Sorrow? Hate?

“Who is it, grandmother?” I asked, looking at her with innocence. She smiled.

“A very wise priestess, Jamey,” she replied quietly, but affectionately. I cocked my head and millions of ideas flooded my head. Baptism, possibly? That was natural for young children. Who knows… I didn’t. I wasn’t very knowledgeable in Christianity terms and events, but…

“Are we exorcising me?!” I cried, throwing my deference out the window. “Please don’t! I don’t want to! It doesn’t sound very fun! Are we gonna baptize and THEN exorcise?” Grandmother almost fell on her behind. She stumbled backwards.

“Oh, no dear! Of course not! Why would you think of such a thing?” Grandmother cried, grabbing my shoulders gently. I was young, and scared of everything, so I started to burst out into tears. Grandmother gave a melancholy look, scooped up my head and cradled it as if it were a new plushie given to a young child. The sobs and cries slowly faded away and tears stopped gushing out.

“Sorry, Grandmother,” I whispered.

In the car we went. I stared out the car window. The radio for christian music was softly playing in the background, and my grandmother was humming along cheerfully. In the car, it seemed that we were going to leap into the future any minute. Blurs of blue, green, white, and grey zipped past. It all stopped though, whenever we hit a red light.

Once that would happen, I would stare and stare and stare at it until it turned green. That’s when I would look out the window once more, fantasizing about time travel.

It didn’t take long to reach the church. We pulled into the parking lot and found the spot closest to the entryway. I hopped out of the car and immediately helped my grandmother. We padded inside, down a few hallways, and turned a corner to approach a room with a young woman kneeling down at the end of the middle of the room. She was whispering something. I stared at her intensely. Then, she stopped, and complete utter silence fell across the room.

“James Oakley and Rhoma Oakley. It’s a pleasure,” the woman said in a hushed voice, never turning around to face us. “I have very close ties with your mother, and I could foresee you coming.”

“Are you…?” spoke my Grandmother.

“Indeed I am,” interrupted the woman, apparently knowing what our question was.

“Then do you know why we are here?” pressed Grandmother. A snappy one, my 

grandmother was. Almost the complete opposite of Mom. I even wonder how they’re related, sometimes. A slight pause.

“Yes,” she whispered. “Let me see the young one.” I awkwardly approached her from behind. “It will do you no good if you’re behind me,” she replied, a small hint of amusement.

“O-oh. Sorry, miss,” I stuttered in embarrassment. I was so stupid.

“It’s quite alright, child,” soothed the woman. I thought that I should probably start calling her a priestess instead of just “woman”. I walked around her slim body and faced her directly. I widened my eyes once I saw what her face looked like. Her eyes. They were… white. “It isn’t as mythological as it seems, child,” stated the priestess. “These eyes are fake. My true eyes were gouged out by a ruthless man. I have simply replaced them with fake glass ones so I wouldn’t look like a demon to the others.”

I sat in front of her and instinctively hugged her. I could tell by her breathing and her face that she was surprised and did not predict that this would happen. “The glass inside of you is weak, due to shatter any minute, with the slightest nudge. What’s easy is to let it break completely and leave you alone in the darkness. What’s hard is to repair it. Though a glazier will come. They’ll take that shattered glass and created a wonderful mosaic. You will get through your tough times,” the priestess said softly. Odd enough, a single tear dropped from only my left eye.

What? I thought, surprised. I took my pointer finger and dabbed it. Tears. Was I sad? I didn’t think I was sad or upset. I wasn’t in pain or anything. Tears are just… coming. The priestess hugged me gently, like I did to her. “My name is Edith. You can come visit anytime, with your grandmother as well.” She delicately grabbed my shoulders and faced towards me, her white eyes staring into my green eyes.

“I will,” I said, with a little too much happiness than I intended. Edith smiled and let go of my shoulders. She turned around and faced toward my grandmother’s direction.

“You and your grandson have a very nice day,” Edith stated. “Speak of me in your daughter’s presence, if you may. It might get her speaking again.” Grandmother  nodded. “A pleasure to have you.” Edith then turned and knelt again, the same pose that she had when we arrived.

“Bye!” I called when we walked out the door.

Edith turned in the direction of my voice and smiled.

~Present~

I stared out my window. Edith, my mind whispered. I went to my wall and approached a photograph with a golden frame. A young woman with flowing chestnut hair and white eyes, standing next to a childish

young boy with black hair and bright green eyes. Holding the picture, I looked at how youthful both of us were. In the corner it read in sloppy handwriting, “Me With Edith At The Roes Gardin!” I chuckled to myself at the awful grammar. Looking at the background, I assumed I had meant, “Me with Edith at the Rose Garden!”. Looking at the photo brought back good memories. I caressed the photo. One of the only keepsakes I had. Edith was one of the only people who made me think happy about myself. Now that I haven’t visit her in ages I feel… sad… lonely… depressed?

“Tch,” I thought angrily. “Thought about it again.” I wanted to, but didn’t. It can help me relieve my worries and stress… not in the best way possible. Though, I can count how many times I have done it.

I made my decision. I pushed open the closet and stared at the paintings. The ragdoll cat portrait actually had contained a secret compartment behind it, where I stored some of my items. I lifted the painting and grabbed the handle of the object and held it to my wrist. Its blade suddenly slashed at my wrist, leaving a fairly large cut.

That’s for not reading properly. Another one, except lower down and onto my arm. That’s for being selfish at the soccer game. One more, right on the back of my hand. That’s for being so stupid during the class.

Blood oozed out of the cuts and slices. The pain kept me remembering about all the sins that I have committed. The carpet in the closet was stained with blood from multiple, what I call, “Slicings”. I winced in pain, but I didn’t dare treat my cuts. I stepped out from the closet when the blood stopped dripping and was caked and dried onto my wrist. I walked over to my bed and almost stumbled into it. Resting my head down onto the soft mattress, I cried myself to sleep.

“Sometimes your glass mirror clouds with darkness and you can’t do anything against it.”

Chapter III

~Her Obliviousness~

Life. What’s the meaning again…? Everyone who is alive is alive for a reason, so what’s my reason? To be hated and ignored? Who would ever love and accept me with open arms?

That conversation the girls had about the new student was actually proven to be true, though. There was indeed, a new student transferring to our high school. My chin was resting on my desk, thinking about life’s problems and mankind’s problems. “Okay students,” spoke my math teacher, Mr. Fletcher. This was one of the teachers that treated me equally as well. “We have a student that just transferred from… where did you transfer from?”

“Maine,” spoke the voice joyfully. I closed my eyes, since I could think better that way. The voice sounded joyful with a hint of amusement, so I’m assuming they’re happy to be here and they think it’s amusing or unique that they’re from Maine and not anywhere else. I wonder why shev transferred here. Does the voice sound… feminine?

“Would you like to introduce yourself?” asked Mr. Fletcher.

“Yeah! Sure! I’m Megan Nelligan!” said the cheerful voice. When I opened my eyes, there was a girl standing in front of the class, smiling cheerfully at everyone. It was the first time anyone in this school was overly happy in my presence.

“Alright, Megan. How about you sit next to…” Ehh… whatever. She’ll eventually ignore me as well as everyone else anyway. “There’s a spot next to James, why don’t you sit there?”

What the… Suddenly, ever since yesterday, I haven’t been able to predict anything that the teachers will do now. It’s a little unsettling. Megan bounced over to me happily. “Hello!!!!! I’m Megan! I like cats! Do you like cats or are you allergic?” Okay then… just… don’t respond. I shouldn’t get too attached though. She’ll most likely end up finding some other friends who don’t think the best of me and forget about me. I closed my eyes.

“Alright, flip to page 751. I will go around and check them when you’re doing your warm-up,” said Mr. Fletcher flatly, writing our warm-up math problems on the

whiteboard. I sighed and took out my pencil, instantly scribbling down the answers. I swiftly opened my book up to the given page and waited.

“Whoa!” Megan gasped, staring at me with wide eyes. I slowly

turned my head towards her, a curious look in my eye. Did she just… acknowledge me? Who is this girl? Whispers spread around the room like a wildfire. “Huh? Why is everyone whispering now?” Mr. Fletcher walked over to our table group with that same blank stare he gives everyone. He checked my pages and handed me some papers. My assignment. Geometry.

I read the questions quickly but efficiently, careful not to make any mistakes in reading and missing something I was supposed to know. I always made sure my handwriting was neat when I wrote down my answers. I stood up and turned my work into the basket. Mr. Fletcher watched me walk back to my seat and came over to talk to me once I became bored. He called me to the hallway, where we could talk about assignments and my progress. He was just like all the other teachers. Thinking of me the way I don’t want to be thought as.

“How did the assignment go? The staff said those were one of the hardest questions they could come up with. Too easy? Too hard?” he questioned.

“They were good, I guess,” I replied softly.

“Is it okay if Megan sits next to you?” he pressed. It was a question that I didn’t have an answer for. “I put her there because you could really use some interaction. I know things have been a bit rough for you pertaining socialization, but I believe it’s really good if you open up to others.”

“Once she finds friends, she’ll just forget about me and hate me just like everyone else,” I stated faintly. “It’s what always happens.” Mr. Fletcher sighed. “Why would it even matter, though? We just face it. Everyone hates me… I’m invisible and ignored. It would just be better if I’m left this way so I don’t have to pass my traits onto others.” I looked down at my shoes sorrowfully. I couldn’t possibly cry in front of the teacher.

“Alright then. You can head back to class.”

“Is he nice? What do you think of him? Do you know him personally? Why are people so quiet and not disruptive? That’s how all my classes were back in Maine. The teachers were nice, though. They weren’t nearly as tense as these people! Is this school going to be fun? It reminds me of a prep school or a boarding school. Did I ask you if you liked cats? Are you allergic to anything?” bombarded Megan in a whisper once I arrived back in my seat. My brain,for the first time in forever, felt fried. I didn’t respond, as I didn’t want to give her any idea of the hardships of my life. I looked down at my desk and then up at the ceiling. “Jeez, you’re so fast at doing stuff! We never had a student like you in my school,” piped Megan, trying to keep her high voice as low as possible.

Does this girl ever just give up on me like everyone else does? I ask my conscious. Don’t get me wrong, it’s a little refreshing to see and hear someone talking to me with full… enthusiasm… but it’s also a bit overwhelming.

“Do you wanna sit together at lunch? It’s only one period of class away!” Megan asked cheerfully. I looked at her with a small tint of astonishment. No one in my memory had ever asked me to sit at lunch with them. My consciousness then cooed at me. Don’t get too attached. Do you remember what happened back then? Just then, the bell rang throughout the classroom. “So, how abo-”

“You’re Megan, right? Wanna become friends?” approached a girl with a big smile on her face. Her eyes glittered, and she almost seemed desperate to become her BFF. Before anyone could say anything else, I got up and left to my next class. “You know that guy?” asked the girl.

“Not personally, but I tried to ask him to sit at lunch with me! He ignored me though…” Megan complained. Then she perked back up and grinned. “At least you’re not ignoring me! You’re my new best friend! What’s your name?”

“Leila Hobbs! Nice to meet ya!” piped the girl. I didn’t listen in to the rest of the conversation, since I knew it wasn’t worth it. It didn’t matter. Still… She has the confidence to speak to me so… openly. With no hint of fear, granted she is new and doesn’t know anything. I thought, walking down to my locker. Same old… same old.

I put my binder in my locker neatly and headed down to the lunchroom with my lunchbox in hand. There wasn’t much in it, as it’s bad to have an unlimited amount of food like some people do. Overeating is very unhealthy, and I want to stay in shape for upcoming events. Then again… it’s not like me doing anything to help the team would affect anything. No one ever notices me when I try and help them. All they ever notice is Darren and Olivia. You could say they “rule the school”, but it would be completely unfitting. My feet automatically took me to the courtyard. I sat down on one of the benches and munched on my lunch in silence.

That’s when the unexpected happens. What was going to be a quiet lunch turned out to be a one sided “argument” between me and Olivia.

She opened the door quietly, careful not to be loud and obnoxious like some other girl I know. “Excuse me?” she spoke, a hint of sternness in her tone of voice. I turned to face it with a blank look. I didn’t respond because it would’ve only made her attitude worse. I just stared. I tried, but couldn’t help but ask.

“What are you doing here?” Olivia bit her lip. She almost looked reluctant of what she’s going to say.

“I wanted to talk to you about the new girl,” Olivia stated with much force. Oh. I understood now. “What’d you tell her to make her soooo obsessed with you. It’s extremely annoying how she keeps asking questions about you. It’s, like, awful! I don’t want to hear from you!” I blinked.

“I didn’t say anything,” I softly said. Olivia gave a small tsk and a sassy hair flip. “Of course you did,” she remarked coldly. “There’s no other reason for her to be yapping her mouth about you. You’re practically nothing to the world! So why does she

speak of you like you’re here BFF or something?” I thought about her words for a minute. You’re practically nothing to the world, her voice hissed in my head. I pretended to brush the thought away from my mind.

I still stayed as silent as a rabbit. Olivia gave another tsk then promenaded her way out of the courtyard and back into the lunchroom. I could hear her mutter some unclarified words, and I could see her mouth moving when she exited the courtyard.

Did I say something? What did I do? I thought in uncertainty. My mind immediately went to the soccer games Darren and I played in together. I had difficulty understanding people, especially people who accused me of doing something I don’t even recall. I nibbled a little on my lunch, slowly but surely losing my appetite.

Before I could even stand up, a girl with long strawberry-blonde hair burst into the courtyard. “Hello!” Megan cheered. She did a little dance then gave a big smile at me. “Remember me?” I nodded solemnly. “Olivia asked me to join the cheerleading squad!

She says I have a really good body because I’m so slim! Seeeeeee?” She said with great animation. Megan spun around with delight.

“Why do you even bother?” I breathed. Megan stopped spinning and looked at me with big, curious eyes.

“With what? With cheerleading?” Megan questioned, cocking her head like a confused puppy. I closed my eyes, prepared to say the expected

“With me? Why do you bother to try and become friends with me?” I said, speaking indistinctly. Megan cocked her head even further to one side. For the slightest moment, I could see concern in her eyes.The smallest fleck of a troubled look. I let my bangs swoop in front of my eyes, leaving me looking like an eyeless face, with only hair, a nose, and lips quivering. She stared down at her feet, leaving us both in utter silence.

“I…” she muttered, her first time not being bubbly and animated. It soon disappeared, though. “Oh well!” She leaned, a little too close to my face, with a big, cheesy grin slapped onto her face. “I’ll keep bugging you until you become my friend!” Megan skipped out of the courtyard and back to her girl-posse. I was left standing alone, confused, and downcast. Incredibly downcast. I looked down at my shoes.

You’re practically nothing to the world! Why are you still here?

Can you just not be good at something? It’s really creepy!

Tears started to dot my eyes, but I refused to cry at school. I hastily wiped them and cleaned up my lunch, ready to head to Mrs. Eberhart’s class. Although, I paused to take a glance at the group of girls. Leila Hobbs. Barbara Magnum. Anna Blake. Olivia Cameron. Megan Nelligan. I didn’t think much of it and silently left the courtyard.

“The scars we hold are uncanny. They hurt. They deepen. Though, never inflict them onto someone who is willing to heal them.”

Chapter IV

~Two Halves of a Whole~

You could buy roses at the games we play to shower the players with them now. It’s what everyone buys to shower Darren, and it funds the school greatly. Another game. Won. No credit. A blank stare crossed my face as roses flooded the field. Why… Someone, please… I watched Olivia come up to congratulate Darren - as always -, which by the day, is getting more and more depressing. It’s not like I’m jealous of their romance, I just want to have someone who cares for me that much. I stared at the ground, watching a rose land next to my feet.

Support.

Appreciation.

Recognition.

I craved all those feelings from others. Why do I even live like this? I can’t applicate for another school even… Parents signature and permission. My parents never speak to me. Ever. Not even my parents care about me.

Attempting to brush the thoughts away, I hastily walked off the field and headed towards the boys’ locker room. “Hey! Wait up!” shouted a voice from behind me. I didn’t think they were talking to me, so I ignored them. “Hey! Slow down a bit, would ya, James?” called the voice again. My feet came to a sudden halt.

My name.

James.

Someone used it.

I turned around to see who in their right mind would want to call me by my name.  

Of course. “My gosh! You walk fast!” she said, panting and squatting down. Megan gasped for air. “Hey, I wanted to tell you good job on your game, but you walked off the field before I could even get down from the stands! You must be a really good player!” Megan said, gasping for air. She must have run all the way from the stands to meet me.

“Aren’t you going to congratulate Darren? He’s the main star of the soccer team, you know,” I said quietly, without thinking. Megan cocked her head like a curious puppy. “He scored the last 2 goals, didn’t he?” For a second, it looked like Megan cocked her head so far it came off.

“I thought you did that?”

Something in my brain snapped, not in the “anger” way. It made

me want to… cry? I put my hand over my right eye, to predict any tears. I didn’t understand why. I even told her to stop talking with me… so why is she doing this? A hint of water was caught in my right eye’s vision. Then suddenly, my brain was taking a walk down memory lane. I remembered someone telling me something about tears, long ago. Wait… her.

“If you cry from your left eye, then it means you’re crying from pain. If it’s coming from the right, then it’s happiness! Isn’t that funny?” she said cheerfully. The 6-year-old me grinned, with a smile as wide as the ocean. Edith patted me on the head, exchanging a similar smile, just not as wide.

Edith. She helped me so much. Her death shot me painfully in the chest. Especially with my parents not even lifting a finger to help with her funeral. My deceased grandmother and I payed for it all. There was too much sadness to fuel myself with anger. There was just the disappointment. Dejection. Melancholy. “EEEEEK! ARE YOU CRYING? DID I MAKE YOU CRY? I’M SORRY!” Megan screeched in panic. She started flailing her arms around in alarm. I made no reaction on the outside, but on the inside, I was panicking a little too. I dabbed my eyes with my pointer-finger and discovered small tears leaking down my face. “Please don’t cry! I didn’t mean tooooooooo! Here, how about this?” Megan bent down to take off and dig through her drawstring bag, when I hadn’t noticed until then. She pulled something out and threw it at me. I looked at what was in my palm stained with tears. It was… a cookie.

I looked up in shock, but I couldn’t tell if it showed on my face. Megan had her signature grin. “Shouldn’t you give this to someone else?” I whispered, half to myself.

“Nnnnnope! Because you’re my friend!” Megan cheered loudly. I looked down at my feet, holding the cookie. Friend, my mind muttered. What’s considered a friend in this cruel, cruel world? A person who you can confide in for help? Someone who supports you even when you can be a jerk? A person who likes you for who you are? My mind went elsewhere, to all the people I know. I guess I could really need a friend. “You don’t like me bugging you so much? Is it because I’m so flamboyant?” Megan asked with full confidence. I stayed silent. The word was now engraved into my brain. Friend, friend, friend, friend, it kept saying.

What should I say? I thought. I closed my eyes and entered into my mental dictionary. Hey brain, look up the definition of “friend”.

“A person whom one knows and with whom has a bond of mutual affection, typically exclusive of sexual or family relations. Synonyms: companion, soulmate, intimate…. Etc.,” my brain replied. I asked my brain a question. Is it worth it for Megan to become friends with me? No response.

“Sooooo, friends or no?” Megan asked again. I opened my eyes to see an eager girl staring at me with round eyes. Before I could give a reply, my soccer coach, Coach William Kinsey, approached the both of us.

“Excuse me, but shouldn’t you,” he pointed to me, “be in the locker room changing, and you,” he gestured to Megan, “be leaving shortly? Hustle, hustle, move it!” Coach Kinsey ordered. Megan nodded and bounced away to the exit. I nodded as well and headed to the locker room. For a few minutes, I was a little grateful the Coach stopped our conversation. It gave me more time to consider the option of being Megan’s, “friend”.

---------

Mr. Fennell was speaking about an upcoming test three days from now, and I was looking out the window, watching the blue jays hop from branch to branch on an old oak tree, which was planted on school grounds. Although, throughout class, I felt the back of my head being burned. My mind always assumed it was Megan, in which it was. She always intensely stares at me during class… The pressure sometimes builds up inside me and sometimes makes me want to explode.

However, whenever I thought of Megan’s offer, I constantly remembered Olivia’s daggers into my brain. Not just the ones from the courtyard, but also from past years.

You’re practically nothing to the world! Why are you still here?

Can you just not be good at something? It’s really creepy! Weirdo.

Why aren’t you putting to use and helping people with the talents you have? You’re so selfish!

Please go away. You’re bugging me and the rest of the world.

Those words just wanted make me curl up into a ball and shut myself away from everything. It was strange. For almost my entire life, I was alone. No one cared about me. No one paid any attention to me. Some loathe me. Some fear me. And then she came along. The one with obliviousness to the obscure hierarchy of this school. The one who tried to come and befriend me for as long as she was here. Maybe it was just that she was an overall happy-go-lucky person and her ultimate goal is to become friends with everyone, like another high-school cliche’. I cupped my chin with my palm and chewed on my fingernails.

The pros of a friend would be that I would have someone to talk to. Someone who would always treat me with respect. I wouldn’t have to be lonely at lunch in the courtyard anymore. Then again, I would be “stealing” her away from her other friends, and it seems that people benefit better when having same-sex friendships. It would also be awkward, since I believe I am labeled a “rival”, or a “goal to beat”, with many of Megan’s friends. Wouldn’t it be a little awkward to have a friend like me?

MEGAN

Man, I wonder if James is gonna be my friend. I hope he says yes, because then I’ll finally have a male friend! He seems so interesting, even if he is non-talkative, antisocial, and a complete… giraffe? I heard giraffes are some of the quietest animals ever! Oooh, I don’t think I should I should call him a giraffe. That’s probably an insult meaning, “Haha you have a long neck!”. Not that he has a long neck, or anything. It’s not short either, just a normal, normal neck. I walked down the bustling hallway, many books and notebooks in hand.

What if he rejects my offer? Eeek! That would be so embarassing! I guess I would keep pestering him until he does say yes, but that would be mean! My code is to never be mean to anyone, even if they truly deserve it! Ughhh, I hate having to overthink things!

My pace slowed down as I started to dive deeper into my own thoughts. Does he hate me? I wonder. Maybe I’m just annoying him too much and that’s making him lean towards saying no? Am I too flamboyant? Am I too annoying? I feel like he’s a cat and I’m a dog. I’m way more social and energetic than him, I think. James is more calm and collected, and incredibly antisocial. I hate it when Leila and Barbara and Anna talk about James behind his back! They’re really nice, but I don’t know how they would feel if I became friends with James.

Not that I should let them control me and my decisions or anything.

JAMES

Lunch was coming soon, and a prediction was that Megan was going to come.

Considering all the pros and cons, I thought that being friends with her… might not be a bad idea. She could help me whenever I’m in need of support. She reminded me a lot of… Edith… Her kindness. Her ability to become extremely likeable. Friend...ship… Friendship. Something I had convinced myself I couldn’t have. Something I had secretly craved forever.

I sat in the courtyard, covertly anxious and nervous. I could barely eat my

ham-and-cheese sandwich, so I just nibbled on my sandwich at a leisurely pace. Then she came. She briskly walked into the courtyard, a huge smile on her face. What happened next was unexpected and surprised me. Megan stood right in front of me and bowed her head deeply. From my knowledge, it was a cultural way of asking, “please”. I didn’t understand what was happening

“Wh-what are you..?” I started. Megan hastily interrupted me.

“Please be my friend!” she requested, almost shouting. Again, her words echoed in my head. Please be my friend! Please be my friend! It barked in my head.

I, for once this entire school year, smile. My answer was already settled.

“It would be my pleasure,” I echoed back. Megan’s eyes widened with shock and happiness. She then squealed:

“Friends?!” “Friends.”

“Friends.”