11th July 2007

"To A," I carefully pen the note and slide the same inside his locker. If this does not do the deed, then I don't know what will.

I admit this is something I didn't think I would have to resort to, but it's the only way of knowing if he remembered any of it. Pathetic as it maybe, I often envy George and the impressions he proudly wears on his collar bone, ones that have 'Emma' written all over them. Of course, it's just a hunch... but I would love for it to be true.

Once done with my mandatory cigar break, I walk over to the environmental sciences class on the first floor of the left wing— the only one I can bear sitting through. The class is filled with chatters as pairs worked on their last minute assignments due in less than fifteen days. Everyone but one of them has slipped into a state of panic.

Jake Presley. There's something amusing about him; the way his spectacles rest on the bridge of his nose, the nerdy ruffle of his hair, and the Jon and Garfield T-shirt he has on for the most. I would say he is nothing like any guy I have ever met, but I also know that he's been one of the many to be happily wrapped around Rachel Stinson's little finger, so... I guess everyone has their own flaws.

"Do you mind?" He pulls his specs up, staring daggers at me until I realise I'm in his way.

I step aside, feeling heat rush to my cheeks in a way I had ever known of. I shrug it off eventually.

My partner for the project is already waiting for me at our table, and I barely even exchange a few words with him before Archie comes storming in. He looks at me intently before dragging me by my arm, despite the teacher's constant protests. I was awaiting this, but I didn't expect for it to happen so soon. My lips barely stretch into a smile before he lets go off my hand and I almost lose balance.

"I want you to answer this, and I want you to answer straight. Where is Emma?" Huffing and restless, our proximity borders on inducing sparks, and yet his tone indicates we cannot be farther away. This isn't even close to what I was expecting.

"I don't know, I haven't seen her," I try to dismiss him, but he manages to pull me by my wrist and pin me against the wall, flushed. The closeness, the tension, it propels my heart to slip off its static cord and beat in a shuffled pattern instead, the track switching with every twitch of his lips. All in all, it did not feel good.

"If you don't tell me where Emma is, I can promise you that one of us will get detained today." He pulls out a folded note from his jeans, while his free hand rests on the wall, still blocking my path. "I have one of your most precious things, your heartbeat, but it's too bad that she is about to leave you soon," he reads out of the piece of creased paper. "What does this mean, Mia? I swear if you hurt Emma in any way, you will see the worst of me." His tone alone sends shivers down my spine, so I avoid whatever monstrosity is brewing in his russet eyes. Instead, I snap my gaze to the chipped plaster of the wall, breaking apart like the tension in the atmosphere.

He's threatening me. I don't even realise how he's long gone as I absorb the accusations made and try kicking away the dented pedestal I'd apparently taken to construct when I thought I had some place in his life. More important than some, in fact.

A blurred figure appears in front of me, patting my shoulder and pulling me out of my mini meltdown. "Mia, where's Emma?" Kylie asks, shooting a questioning look in my direction.

I realise I've been sitting on the floor ever since Archie left, but don't bother to move anyway. "Why do you all keep asking me? I haven't even seen her pasty ass since morning!" I snap.

"Well, her bag and cellphone are in the class, but she is no where to be found." Kylie mumbles while chewing on blueberry gum, her words incoherent to anyone outside of our group.

As she adjusts her low waisted ripped denim shorts, I wonder how Purple head here and Ms. Congeniality came to become friends. It's always seemed fishy to me, but I keep my foot out of it. They're poles apart from each other in all six ways possible, except the pretentious blue blood in veins, for which we're all guilty to some degree or another. The really competition kicks in with who's got the richest fill of wretchedness and I hadn't been aware today marked the beginning.

"Did you check everywhere?" I ask, retreating from the floor.

"Yeah, Archie and George have been looking all over."

"Okay," I try appearing calm, but feelings of guilt gnaw at my insides.

Kylie, being the sneaky mind reader minx, senses my thoughts and hands me a cheap cigarette fresh from a carton in her bag pack, She often gets baffled when I put it like that, but I saw her buying it from a street vendor in Brownsville, so what else am I supposed to say?

Now I don't usually smoke these, but I can really use one with whatever's happened. I promptly take the cigarette along to my regular spot– the deserted university basement. It's off limits for the students, so naturally it has to be the only place I thrive in peace.

I saunter down the stairs at the end of hall and to the secluded place, lined with dust bunnies and spider webs. The space is undeniably huge, such that even the sound of the friction between my sneakers and the floor, comes out in folds. The only source of light is a flickering yellow light bulb casting light on my scars. I lean against the old library shelves, hoping to get nostalgic.

Coughing on the smoke like a rookie, I remember how it's really been a while since I have had one of these, undeniably out of practice. Although, it doesn't take long to get the hang of it, and soon enough, I am blowing out smoke rings in the air, proud at the spirals binding me in smog..

It's both a boon and a curse, how easily I get used to everything. How easily I got used to him.

Even though, I can't help but resent the effect that Archie has on me, the realisation that no one else can ever hold such power over me, is delightfully frightening. And to think, he didn't even cross my mind twice during our first meeting.

We were both circling the gaps between the tall shelves of our campus library, running into each other at intervals. One of my friends was going to leave me some exam cheat code tapes, or to put it precisely, a copy of the illegal recording of our teachers in the staff room. The papers were guarded with life, so we had to get creative.

Except I couldn't find them anywhere. Running out of time and mostly out of patience, I decided to ask him for help. He gave me a rather befuddled look when I did, but directed me towards one of the cabinets. I followed his directions and found some tapes shoved in a brown package, which was very clearly labelled for the receivers discretion with a huge X.' As embarrassed as I was, my first opinion of Archie was nothing more than a single syllable. Weird.

I almost put out the cigarette by stepping on it, but nostalgia truly strikes me when I get a close look at my scars— the awry lines forcing me to take the cigarette butt between my fingers and shut my eyes in anticipation. The burning end is about to come in contact with my already flaming skin, when a rattling noise deters my concentration, and the roll slips down the space between my fingers. I curse it, but it doesn't make me recede from going further inside to look for the source.

It assume it to be some rodent until my eyes, both, defy and check off my prediction in the worst way possible.

Emma. She's passed out on a chair, thick ropes holding her arms and legs in place. Her  perfectly curled ponytail dangles in the air, while slight blood drips in intervals from the wound stretching across her hairline. She seems unconscious, but the slight curl of her lips on both ends makes you think twice.

"Emma," I manage to choke out, aloud this time. The shock's barely taken over when another bang hits my ears. I cannot take my eyes off of her, and it's only when fiery red streaks appear in my peripheral vision, that I realise the source.

He doesn't acknowledge my presence, his eyes darting over to her in an instant. His face furrows as he nears Emma, and his shaky hands slightly cup her face. There's a glint in his eyes– one that claims he can tear up any second now. He doesn't appear like his usual composed self, but like he will break into a thousand pieces if anyone pokes him at the moment.

He calls out her name several times, but she didn't come back to life. His frustration grows; gradually becoming apparent by the ferocity with which he tugs at his hair before kneeling down beside her. "I am sorry, Em, but please don't do this to me. I can't bear seeing you like this. Just please..." his voice cracks. Or rather breaks down to shreds. Resting his head on her knees, he seems to seek comfort in the mere presence of her.

As if on cue with this pleads, her eyelids flutter– their oceanic hue faded than ever. Her gaze hovers down to Archie, who's unaware of her consciousness. She leans forward and pulls his head up to reveal his swollen eyes, snotty nose. She began to say something, but he silences her by pulling her into a kiss.

Just as they pull apart, Archie begins rambling his apologies, and she only smiles at his urgency. And me? I conveniently faded into the background while all of this happens, until her gaze lands on me. I am put on a spot as Archie follows suit and turns behind. Before I have a chance to make something of his expressions, he flashes away with Emma. She looks back, but appears too tired to question his actions.

I realise what he might have interpreted of the scene in front of him. My chest develops a hollow inside, and I feel my biggest fear coming true. That note, a god damn note that I had nothing to do with to begin.

My knees begin to buckle as if all strength I ever had came from the knowledge that I had him. One way or other, I could watch him smile, have him close, but that's all slipped away. I land on the ground with a thud. The crumpled note peeks out from my bag and I sheath over its creases, read it out loud, only to get the spiralled ball out of my throat. "You and me, we probably met for a reason. It might be something as little as sharing a flat beer on the roof of my apartment, or as big as counting stars together on that roof and later letting our actions speak for our feelings. Yes, I finally said it. I know you haven't forgotten about it, and, neither have I. All I am asking is, did it mean nothing to you? I don't expect it to, but I just wanted to let you know that it and all the time we've spent... it means the world to me, Archie.

                                        
***

14th July 2007

It's near four in the morning. She is dressed in an original Michael Kors piece, pairing the a-line dress with cream coloured Louboutins and a slick layer of forest mud all over her thighs.

"I don't hate you, Kylie, but I hate how you thought you could come and intervene in my life, take control of what is important to me. You had, what, 100 dollars on that bet, huh? You see, you could have done anything to me. Too bad, you picked my pride to toy with, and now that you have, the results can only be punitive.

So, now that you have made the mistake, you will stay here. You will not move a finger until I let you, because that's the plan. And if we ever meet again, I don't know, in another life or something... remember that if you cross paths with me, I will make your life a living nightmare."