[I'm glad you all seem to be liking this project so far! Thanks for the support <3

Music in the multimedia is Wallows - Just Like A Movie

Consider this my second time writing a Jeff the killer fanfic :$ herherher.]

Chapter 2

Two weeks have passed since my first day at my new school. Classes are just fine. Lunches are as okay as they'll get. Since meeting her, I've continued to sit with Johanna at the little table during our lunch break. I've taken to her company pretty well; she doesn't make me nervous like people usually do. Something about her compels me to lower my guard (not that it's very strong). Maybe because she interacted with me first. That and I guess it's hard to ignore someone who brushed their teeth with you in the girls restroom after a hairy incident.

Speaking of the hairy incident, I haven't come across that girl named Maddy since then. Well, I've seen her in the halls during class change, but we haven't had a proper interaction. I wouldn't want one anyway. The few glares she's sent me through bodies of passing students already gets my spine tingling with chills. I couldn't handle speaking with her, despite that I find myself wanting to confront her and apologize about barfing on her shoes. I've brought up the idea to Johanna but all she said was: "Don't even bother, it won't make a difference. If she wanted to mess with you, she would've done it by now. I'm sure she replaced those shoes with a new pair anyway."

My parents don't know how the first day really went down. I felt significantly better at the end of the day and didn't feel like reliving my embarrassment and anxiety all over again by explaining it to them. Plus, they have more important things to worry about.

We've fully settled into the new house. No more boxes lay strewn about in the hall or in the living room. There were some things still in boxes but they've gone out of the way in the attic or the basement. Mom got after Dad while we all helped to move one of our old recliners in the basement, saying we shouldn't have brought it along, but Dad keeps saying he'll find a way to fix it. That's what he said that one time a couple years ago with the rattling ceiling fan that fell on the kitchen table during dinner. And also the mailbox that wasn't secured and had flown off and hit my bedroom window during a hefty windstorm. And several other things. So I guess the recliner will call the basement its home for...forever.

Things aren't bad. I still find myself laying in bed just staring at my bedroom ceiling for long periods of time, missing our old home. I haven't found it in me to pick up another book, which feels awful. I have to encourage myself to continue with another title or I might just go mad.

Things aren't bad, but I still don't feel good being here. But it's too late to complain now.

...

My schedule has me in upper level Algebra at noon. The work isn't tedious, but mathematics isn't my strongest subject so it feels like a sludge to go through anyway.

While I was taking out my notebook for today's class, I felt a tap on my shoulder. I turned to look behind me and was met with an energetic set of eyes and tussled brown hair. Oh, it's that guy from my homeroom class. Ian Harris? I didn't even notice he had Algebra with me too.

"Hey, sorry to bother you," he said, "but do you have a pencil or pen I can borrow? I lost mine."

I only nodded and reached into my pencil bag to lend him something. While I rummaged through a few highlighters, he leaned closer and whispered, "You're Ellie bear, right?"

I froze and looked at him with wide eyes.

He just smirked and said, "That's what you said on the first day, right?"

"O-Only my family gets to call me that," I muttered lowly. "It slipped out. My name is Elizabeth Umber."

"Right, I forgot. Ellie, then?"

"No."

"Not even Ellie for short?"

"I...I don't know you, so no. Just Elizabeth."

He pouted a bit and sighed. "Fine, fine, Elizabeth."

The teacher began class just as I gave a pencil to Ian and I ignored everything except the lecture.

Thirty minutes passed when I got another tap on my shoulder and held back the urge to groan. Ian was sitting there smiling again as he asked me, "Um, could I borrow a few sheets of paper? I ran out in my notebook."

"Already? It's barely the first six weeks of the semester."

"Well, you see, this is my junk notebook that I'm using because all my other notebooks are, well, scribbled with more junk. Look, see!"

Ian enthusiastically reared up his notebook and showed me pages upon pages of random notes on random things. I could recognize coding numbers, cryptic looking symbols, a hand-drawn schematic for a railgun (what), and 'ideas for a toaster on wheels that shoots toast into my mouth upon command'. Uh...

"F-Fine, I'll give you a few papers," I stuttered, puzzled.

After I neatly tore out several sheets for him to use (I have a feeling he only has the one notebook for the entire day), I handed them over and he grabbed them. As he did, he leaned closer and whispered like earlier, "By the way, since you're particular on names, I hope you know that people are calling you barf girl."

"What?!"

"Excuse me," the teacher called out. "Keep it down please, unless you'd like to step outside for the remainder of the class."

I didn't say anything and kept staring wildly at Ian. He rested his head in his hand and added, "Yeah, something about you throwing up on this chick's shoes, and now you're barf girl."

"I am not barf girl!" I hissed.

"Tell that to the other students using that name," he said. "I mean, I totally dig it and would embrace it, but that's just me."

"Oh my god," I mumbled, exasperated.

"Ah, don't sweat it, Ellie! The name will pass in like a week, tops!"

I didn't have it in me to correct him shortening my name, my mind was far too muddled with worries over this newfound info. Maddy must've told her friends about it and now everyone will know what I did and talk about it to their friends and their friends will know and then their friends will know and then more friends will know and call me barf girl...!

"This can't be happening," I whined to myself as I pressed on my temples.

Ian groaned. "Ugh, I know, long division already?"

God dammit.

...

The next day felt like such a slog to go through after Ian told me about me being called 'barf girl'. With me always observing everyone around me and listening to their conversations, I've heard the name being thrown around, just like my nerves. Passing through halls made me anxious beyond reasoning, and any eyes that fell on me felt like I was hit with a high-powered spot light. Any time anyone looked my way, I expected name calling. My mind was so wired that I think people are looking at me in the corner of my eye, then when I actually glance at them they're not even facing me.

And then it's not just someone calling me 'barf girl' aloud to my face, but to their friends. Side-eyeing me and snickering amongst each other. Someone even scribbled 'barf girl' on the walls in the restroom where the incident with Maddy went down. How does something like this spread so fast?!

When it was time for lunch break, I didn't even want to think about going into the cafeteria. I could always go to the library and hole myself up in some corner away from everyone. The idea was enticing, but then I hesitated. Johanna wouldn't know about me skipping lunch and would be alone at the table. I'm already in such deep water with the stupid 'barf girl' thing, I wouldn't want to upset her and cause more trouble. So, with a sigh, I kept walking the halls towards the cafeteria.

There was no way I could muster up an appetite, so I went straight for the table in the back. Sure enough, Johanna was there munching on an apple. When she spotted me, she smiled and waved. It felt weird seeing her do that for me so I just weakly lifted my hand.

I took a seat across from her like usual. I didn't say anything and sat there, stiff as a board, messing with the cuffs of my baggy jacket.

"Is there something wrong, Ellie?" Johanna asked me. I looked up at her and was met with a stern expression, not like she was mad but worried. Even though I thought to lie and say I was fine to avoid talking about my issues, gazing into her knowing hazel eyes compelled me to admit the truth.

"P-People have started referring to me as barf girl," I said softly.

Johanna scowled and groaned. "Of course they would. No wonder I saw writing in the restroom that said 'barf girl was here'."

"I guess they're adding some variety now," I murmured.

"Fuckin' Maddy!" Johanna growled as she pinched the bridge of her nose, lifting her glasses.

"I don't know what to do. Maybe I should apologize to her..."

"No way," the brunette griped. "You don't owe her a thing, let alone an apology."

"But I—."

"Just don't talk to her, okay? I say this for your own good. That girl holds nasty grudges and you talking to her would most likely provoke her to belittle you even more. She's practically a psychopath. Forget the apology, Ellie."

"So, what else can I do?"

"Ignore it. People here are one-track minded with rumors. Let it pass. If things get worse, you can let a counselor or teacher know. As much as it sucks, 'barf girl' is a silly name, so they might not take you seriously if you complain about it to them now."

Furrowing my brow, I replied, "But I can't stand the idea of people name-calling me at all...! It nauseates me."

"Hey, you're going to be okay," she said with a comforting tone to her already easy-going voice. "I've got your back one hundred percent. If things get rough, I'm here for you. Hold on..."

Johanna dug into her backpack for a pen and then wrote something on one of her napkins. She slipped it over to me and I grabbed it to see a phone number. Her phone number.

"Call or text me if you need anything, or if you just need to vent. I'm literally the most boring person so I'm never doing anything."

As I clutched the napkin tightly in my hands, I couldn't help but say, "Why are doing this?"

She cocked an eyebrow. "What do you mean? Doing what?"

"Being nice to me."

The brunette seemed taken aback by my sentence and fervently answered, "Because that's what any decent person should be doing instead of ridiculing you. It sucks to be alone, Ellie. It really does. So I'll be there for you, as long as you're cool with it."

She scratched the side of her face and added, "I can see how I'm coming off a bit strong, and yeah we haven't known each other long, but...you just have a good spirit to you. Like, for real. Knowing that, there's no way I can stand back and see you struggle."

My chest felt tight with a weird combination of emotions: my anxiety from earlier and also great relief. No one has ever offered their company to me so...genuinely. I can't remember the last time anyone other than my parents has ever done this for me. I squeezed Johanna's napkin more tenderly in my hands, as if her phone number was like a priceless treasure.

"Th...Thank you," I said, my voice wavering from the threat of tears.

She smiled and chuckled. "No need to thank me. That's what friends are for."

F...Friends?

She considers me her...friend? Me?

I couldn't contain the giant, goofy smile on my face that made me squint my eyes.

I have a friend. Johanna is my friend...!

...

The second sign that something was wrong with me was when my parents fought for weeks on end on putting me in psychiatric care following a ghastly incident.

It was a year after we found out about my strange heart condition; I was 9 years old. There was word among the fourth grader girls that there was gonna be a big slumber party at Samantha Turner's house. At that time, she was like the most popular little girl, and everyone wanted to play with her during recess, or team up with her on field trips. She was cute, pretty, and very persuasive. I always wanted to talk to her, but kids started to think I was weird, so I never had the confidence to even be near her.

Well, to my surprise, I got an invitation card from her to go to her slumber party. It was such a pink and glittery card, so over the top. I was so excited that when I got picked up, I screamed and showed Dad the invitation and we both screamed together in the car. We also held up the pick-up line doing that and got very impatient honks from behind.

Mom was so happy for me that she even got me a new set of pajamas with unicorns on them just for the occasion. My first ever slumber party. I was both nervous and eager for the day.

When it came, I was dropped off at Samantha Turner's house, which was in the more wealthy suburbs. Her house was very big and I think there was ten girls in total that she invited, including me. It was the first time I had been able to hang out with so many other kids at once ever since I changed. I had high hopes. I had always longed to return to normal and make friends again, and this was my shot after a whole year.

Samantha's parents provided everything; entertainment in their theater room, pizza, snacks and cake, even games to play in the yard. It was a lot more than I anticipated and was absolutely stunned by the sheer effort. Things had been going well. A few girls had talked to me, played tag with me, colored drawings together with me. Samantha was one of the girls who really engaged with me a lot, and it felt so surreal, like a princess noticing a pauper. It was honestly the most fun I had had in a long, long time.

And then came night time.

The biggest room in the house where all the girls slept in cute sleeping bags and blankets was the upstairs lounge room. Samantha and other girls had the idea for everyone to gather in a circle and tell stories. Spooky stories. I never experienced this so I didn't know how to feel about it at the time. The lights in the room were off and we had little lamps on. Some girls took their turns telling scary stories of monsters or murderers. From boogey-men, cultists, shape-shifting creatures, and even a tall man in the woods that stole little kids. As things went on, I began to feel more and more unnerved, until I was frightened.

And then we all went to bed. At least, we were expected to. I wasn't able to sleep as my mind kept imagining every story that was told, bringing them to life in the dark of that chilly lounge room.

Just when I had finally been able to fall asleep, I was stirred awake by my little sleeping bag being zipped up over my head. Then, I felt myself being dragged away as the tiny snickers of little girls surrounded me in every direction. I struggled and cried out, asking what was going on and to let me out. Every time I tried to pull the inside zipper open, someone would hold the outside, preventing me from being freed. I was beginning to panic and it felt as if there suddenly wasn't enough air.

It felt like forever until I was set down and allowed out, but by the time I had escaped my sleeping bag, I had been locked into a closet while all the girls were outside. While I kept trying to force the knob to turn, I heard Samantha's voice behind the door say, "C'mon, Ellie, you better quit freaking out or the tall man will get you in there. Don't you hear him? Behind you? Haha!"

My mind was a blur of eerie imagination and panic. Goosebumps ran up my skin, as if my body was sensing something actually behind me, but that wasn't the case. Still, I was 9, and scared, and helpless against the rest of the girls. I had no one to turn to.

In that dark, cramped closet, I curled up inside my sleeping bag and cried, begging to be let out, to even leave the house and go back home to my mom and dad. And the girls called me a crybaby beyond the door for my feeble pleads. And as the taunts went on and my sobbing increased, something else happened beyond the door.

To this day, the stories are hazy, as each girl had a different recount of that night. Investigators had trouble even trying to get a cohesive image of whatever threat had terrorized everyone in that house. Everyone but me. One thing was for sure though.

I guess, the third sign that something was wrong with me was when every girl there collectively called me a freak for the monster that came out of me.

In the dimness of the room beyond the closet I was trapped in, something had showed up. Reports had said it was made of murky shadow and looked like a really big man. Certain stories said it had horns, or it had many arms. It had snaked up from the crack of the bottom of the closet, towering over all the girls. Everyone thought it was some cool trick by one of the others or Samantha, until it grabbed some girls by their hair and attacked them. I was in such a state of blind fear that I hadn't heard the sounds of hysteria outside. Girls screamed and cried, and yelled for their parents too.

Eventually, the closet door had been opened but I hadn't noticed. Samantha said herself that in the middle of all the chaos, she saw the figure had opened the door for me, and it even kneeled down over my shaking body, as if covering me—shielding me. And when her parents had barged in and turned on the lights, all the slithering, hostile shadows that the figure emitted immediately disappeared, along with it. Perhaps if they had come any later, the whole room would have been engulfed...

The windows had been broken, furniture overturned, walls dented. One girl twisted her ankle in the panic, another suffered bleeding on her scalp as a patch of her hair was completely ripped off, and a few more had soiled themselves or threw up from the sheer terror.

It didn't take long for everyone's parents to show up...along with police and paramedics. When officers went in to investigate, they had found me still in the closet, curled up in my sleeping bag, shivering. They didn't have trouble carrying me out since I was said to be in a catatonic state, which is why I couldn't give them an explanation on what had happened that night. There's no memory of what occurred; I only know of it from the stories of the other traumatized girls. My parents were there to take me as soon as the officers brought me outside, and that was that. At least until an investigation was issued.

Investigators said it was strange that out of everyone, I was the only child left unscathed. During that time, my parents argued with each other and the investigators a lot over my involvement in the incident, and during that time, I felt at fault for a lot of the wrongs that were happening around me. Kids began calling me names in school for what happened. The girls that had went to the slumber party were under frequent counseling. Weeks later, Samantha Turner herself tried to stab me with a small kitchen knife she brought from home because she "didn't want the monster coming out of me again". She was transferred to another school, and then her family had moved out of the state entirely.

Because of everything that was happening, I stopped eating, and I stopped drinking liquids, and I went days without sleep. I had once passed out during a test from the lack of energy (and got a free exemption because I, well, passed out). My mental and physical health became another big issue for my parents, and they kept fighting again over what to do.

Finally, it all came to a stop one day. Kids stopped picking on me and went back to ignoring me. The investigation was closed after months and months of getting no leads on what happened at the Turner residence. I was placed on a meal plan to get my health back up. My parents didn't fight anymore. Everything went back to normal.

Except, deep down, I knew things were not normal. Not one bit. Because normal would be if what happened at the slumber party never happened. Because normal would be if my school life didn't involve everyone ostracizing me and a fellow student attempting to murder me. Because normal would be my parents getting along and all of us being happy from the start. Because normal would be if I wasn't such a weird fucking kid with a slow heart and dead complexion and clinical anxiety and so many more fucked up things.

Because normal would never be me.

...

Another week passed and things started to get more bearable. I still never ran into Maddy, and the 'barf girl' names have been dying down. Ever since Johanna gave me her number, we've been texting everyday. After I have dinner with my parents, we call and just...talk. We skip the "school junk", as Johanna called it, and just chat about ourselves and our lives. It felt so strange yet refreshing to have someone else enjoy hearing about my interests, especially pertaining to books. I never did confide with my parents how I felt about the move, so being able to share my feelings with Johanna was like a weight being lifted off my shoulders.

Once, she had commented, "This is the first time I've ever heard you talk so much."

"Oh, I'm sorry. I suppose I should stop—."

"No, keep going! I didn't mean it to be rude. It's nice talking with you. You're opening up. Yap my ear off if you want! I'm your pal, remember?"

"Yeah. My pal...!"

Hanging out with Johanna set my mind at ease and dissipated a lot of my initial worries. My parents noticed a change in me; Dad even said I had a new glow about me ("Like a lightbulb, a human lightbulb, lightbulb human, you're my lightbulb daughter!"). Things were looking up.

Well...there was also that Ian guy.

Ever since he first talked to me in Algebra, he's been engaging with me a lot more. Mostly to his benefit and my...not benefit. Because we're going over Frankenstein in homeroom, he had a very lengthy discussion with me on how galvanization would totally work with today's technology and that his uncle once tested it out with a dead possum using jumper cables and his pickup truck. "The attempt was unsuccessful...and supremely rancid...but it would totally work otherwise!"

He shares a lot more random and bizarre information with me that he just knows. The guy could make an entire TED talk if you mention poptarts. I know, because I did it once and I sat there for a looooong time.

Although our interactions are kinda awkward, he's such a robust and charismatic soul that I can't bring myself to turn him away. A part of me kind of enjoys his outlandish rants, but I'd never actually admit that to him, because then he'd probably do worse, and my brain can only take so much of him. Plus, some people are starting to dislike him and consider him a "loser", so I don't think it hurts to listen to him when no one else wants to. He's still kind of annoying though.

Despite that, everything was okay. Nothing crazy or uncomfortable. Things aren't so bad anymore. Dad always says to keep my chin up in difficult times, so I will. Everything is cool so long as I believe it is!

Another week goes by. I've already got my progress report for my classes, and so far all A's! I was pretty excited to show my parents, especially because Mom was worried that the move would effect my academics. This will put her at ease. I held the report in my hands with an eagerness to get home.

The final bell had rung for the end of the day. As I made my way outside of the school, I ran into Ian (it was more like he sought me out). A giant grin plastered his face and I had a feeling he had something new to tell me.

"Ellie! Guess what?"

"What did I say about my name?" I retorted.

"Not important! Check it, remember how I said I was waiting for my leather-bound custom Necronomicon book to come in?"

"Your what?"

"It came in this morning!" he boasted, then yanked open his backpack to reveal said book (no wonder he had me take notes for him today, there's like nothing in there). It was honestly a work of art, with pristine black leather and lots of decorative metal elements. I was actually speechless that people could even make such a thing, and baffled that his parents even let him buy it.

He went on, "I couldn't show you in our classes because the teachers would probably throw a fit, so I wanted to show you after school! Wanna hold it?"

The chestnut-haired boy didn't even wait for my response before lugging it into my arms, and I notably groaned from its weight. He opened it and began showing me the inscribed pages of Lovecraftian text and symbols. As unusual as it is, this thing is a pretty nice purchase. Almost wanted one of my own.

"I'd love to look at it some more," I said, "but I should be heading home. My parents are working late today so I have to walk."

"I could join you, if you want!" Ian offered.

"Um, I-I'm good."

"Are you sure? I wouldn't want any weirdos doggin' on you on the way home." Funny that he says that.

"Really, I'll be fine," I assured him, then dropped the hefty book back into his arms. "I'll see you later—."

A few steps forward, a gust of wind swept in and yanked my report out of my hands. It flew off towards the right where student parking was and Ian was quick to run for it, and as he did he yelled, "I got it!"

Fearing that he wouldn't get it at all, I ran after him and my report. Light winds kept blowing it out of range for the both of us (it didn't help that Ian didn't have time to put his giant book away so he held it at his side as he waved his other arm about to catch the paper). Finally, the report flew between two parked cars where the wind couldn't take it anymore. Ian was ahead of me by a few feet so he would be first to grab it. That is, he would've grabbed it if he hadn't tripped on the broken curb and tumbled forward. His book had been tossed out of his hold too—right into the windshield of a red car.

I gasped and froze as the glass shattered from the weight and metal parts of the book. Ian slowly rose up from between the cars, holding my report with a paled face. "Oh fuuuuuck," he groaned.

"What did you do?!" I squeaked.

"Me? It was an accident! I tripped!"

"W-We have to tell someone, we have to leave a note, or—or—."

"We," he said, picking up his book, "are running."

I frowned. "Excuse me?!"

"Ellie, I don't have the money to pay this person's car repair off, and my parents will fucking kill me for this and getting this book."

"I don't have the money for this either!"

"Which is why we run! No one is around, so we gotta fuckin' book it!"

"Ian, we can't just—."

"C'mon!" And then he was running, with my report still on him too!

"Oh my god," I whimpered, grabbing at my hair, "he's actually running—he's fucking fleeing the scene—."

There was no way I could leave the car like this. As much as a part of me wanted to follow after Ian, the other part of me knew better. Nervously, I went up to the car and took out a piece of paper where I would write an apology and an explanation. It'll only be more trouble if I don't take responsibility!

"What the fuck?!" A voice screamed behind me.

Startled, I turned around and immediately felt my heart plummet upon recognizing the girl in front of me as Maddy. Along with her were three other girls, most likely the friends that Johanna mentioned to me the first day: Stephanie, Clare and Addie. Maddy's eyes flared significantly harsher once she recognized me too. "You!"

As she stormed up to me, she barked, "First, you throw up on my new shoes, now you break my fucking car?!"

I started to back away. "N-No, I didn't—."

Before I could get away, she grabbed my shirt collar and yanked me forward. Her gaze was like all the circles of Hell combined, she was practically trembling with rage. "You little bitch! You're going to fucking pay up!"

"Please, this is a misunderstanding!"

"So, should I fuck up the air? Because you're the only person here!"

"I-I can explain—." I was interrupted when she slammed me against the side of her car. Her grip on my shirt was starting to slide more and more to my neck, and the tips of my shoes could barely scrape the ground.

"Wait, this is barf girl?" one of her friends remarked. "You weren't kidding when you said she looked like a weak rat."

"Oh, shut up, Clare, that's too nice of a comparison," another friend replied.

The third friend glanced at them and said, "You two, c'mon, now's not the time..."

Clare snorted and nodded towards Maddy and I. "Does that matter? The little rat fucked up Mads' windshield."

"Little rat didn't even apologize for throwing up on her either," the other girl mentioned.

"Stephanie," the third girl scolded.

Maddy sneered and said, "Steph is right, Addie. This bitch didn't even have the gall to even own up to that first day. Now she's gonna pay for both the shoes and the car! Isn't that right, little rat?"

Fearfully, I stammered, "I-I just need to explain—."

"I said, isn't that right?!" Maddy clutched at my face and shoved the back of my head hard against her car.

Tears were stinging my eyes. "Y-Yes—."

"I don't fuckin' hear you, rat!"

"Y-Yes! I'll pay!"

"Louuuudeeeeeer!" she bellowed, squeezing my face harder, her acrylic nail dangerously close to poking my eye.

"I'LL PAY!" I wailed, sniveling under her fearsome glare.

Suddenly, Maddy was shoved away by the girl named Addie. The blonde tyrant was considerably shocked and growled, "What the hell?!"

"That's enough!" Addie fired back. "This is too much, even for you! I've stood back and watched you fuck with people for too long."

"She fucked with my car!" Maddy argued.

"No, she didn't," Addie said.

"Yeah? Then who else was it?"

Addie pursed her lips and faltered. Then she furrowed her brow more and said, "I don't know, but it wasn't her."

"She still has to pay for the shoes," Stephanie remarked, her nose upturned.

"Enough with the shoes!" Addie growled. "They're just shoes, dammit! Besides..." She shot a look at Maddy and hissed, "They were fucking ugly anyway!"

"You're being a real bitch right now," Maddy responded lowly.

"Look who's talking," Addie went on. "This is uncalled for. This shit has to stop. You're being a total psycho!"

"Addieeee," Maddy drawled sarcastically. "I don't appreciate you talking to me like this. We've been friends since kinder, so how can you up and act like that?"

"I should've stopped being friends with you a long time ago. With all three of you toxic skanks! I've defended you all for years, but no more! You all are sick!"

Maddy's eye twitched for a split second, and it somehow made her look more ferocious than before. "You're just gonna drop us like that? Fine! Fuck off then! Both you and the rat can go fucking choke!"

"As long as it's not with you," Addie quipped. Then, she grabbed onto my arm and started leading me away from the scene. But before that, she swiftly whirled around and said, "By the way, Stephanie has been fucking Cryus behind your back."

"You bitch!" Stephanie yelped, while Maddy glared at her other friend. Meanwhile, Clare went wide-eyed and took a single step away from the guilty girl.

With a huff, Addie escorted me away from student parking, all the way to the other side of the school. She finally stopped us behind a column and let me go, where I took my first big breath since the whole altercation started. Without looking at me, she asked, "Do you have a ride home?"

Reluctantly, I answered, "N...No, I have to walk..."

"I'm getting you an Uber," she said. As she pulled out her phone to request the ride, I examined her features for the first time. She was pretty. A fair complexion, clear skin, pink lips, dark green eyes,tawny-brown hair in wavy locks. Despite her current scowl, her face looked like it could be extremely sweet and gentle, coy even. She was maybe an inch or two taller than me, yet I still felt small next to her just from her demeanor alone.

Quietly, I murmured, "I...I'll pay you back for the ride."

"Don't," she retorted firmly. "You're not paying for anything. No shoes, no car, no stupid Uber either."

I gazed at her with awe and couldn't help but say, "Th...Thank you..."

She only glanced at me for a second but couldn't keep her eyes on me. Keeping that stern expression on her phone, she just said, "I need your address."

A moment later, after I gave her my info, she showed me her phone screen and said, "Your driver will be here in five minutes. Here's the license plate and car type. You got all that?"

"Got it."

"Good."

Then silence. The both of us stood next to each other, looking ahead. As I clutched the hem of my jacket, I murmured, "I'm...really sorry about what happened."

Addie frowned. "Why?"

Rubbing my neck, I explained, "Because they were your friends."

"Well, now they're not. You don't need to apologize for what happened. They're shitty people and that's that." 

"I'm just sorry things had to end that way—."

"Enough with the sorrys, okay? I don't want to talk about them anymore either." After that, it seemed she wouldn't do much talking at all, so I kept quiet too.

The Uber arrived and, without ceremony, I parted ways with Addie to finally go home. There was a lady at the driver's seat. She gave me a simple hello and began cruising out into the main road. As we drove off, I looked back at the spot where Addie was, only to see she was gone. Although our exchange was brief and quite stale, something about it stuck with me, long until I got home, long until the night when I lay in bed, thinking about everything that had happened.

And I felt bad that I couldn't get to tell her goodbye.