monday, december 1st

The weekend was thankfully uneventful. I didn't get hit by a car or have to go to any dead friend's funeral, so that was a plus. I watched snow whirl frantically around the house on Saturday, then stood shivering, knee-deep in the same powder, nose red and lips cracked, shoveling it all on Sunday. It reminded me that no matter how mystical or wondrous my hometown could seem blanketed by snow, winter still sucked tremendously.

I donned my mustard-yellow sweater like armor under my puffy, unflattering winter coat as I stepped off the bus and tried not to slip on the icy concrete outside. People were rubbing at their tired eyes, many of them slouching as they pushed open the doors to the school. Party attendees, I supposed.

After my little emotional episode involving Arrow, I'd decided to leave the party. I'd remembered why I'd never been interested in going to parties—the whole environment just wasn't appealing to me. Plus, my intentions of being there were ruined; Arrow might even seem to think we were friends now. Were we friends?

I pondered this all the way to my locker, wondering what I would say to him when I would have to face him in French. I was a wreck last night. Would he even want to be friends with me? Why did I care so much?

He hugged me. He hugged me, while I melted in a pool of tears over Faye and Devan yet again. People must've been watching. Oh god, what would they think now? That we must be dating? That he was stuck comforting the crazy depressed girl?

As third period eventually rolled around, nothing extraordinary happened. I got there on time, and so did Arrow. Ms. Moraeu blabbered about verb tenses. Arrow didn't say anything to me other than a curt hello and a "could you pass me my pencil" when it rolled under my desk. He didn't seem like he was particularly avoiding me, honestly, just that he wasn't interested in talking to me. I didn't know why, but that made my heart slither down to my toes.

⸺⸺⸺

It was when I was at my locker before lunch, struggling to squeeze my Biology binder between my Algebra notebook and my American Lit notebook without causing my entire locker ladder to spew its contents at me when a shadow behind me darkened my view.

"Greetings, my little radish."

Oh my god. I almost died, right then and there, red flooding my cheeks. I spun around at once, the words "what the hell" spilling out of my mouth.

Arrow raised one eyebrow dramatically. "Language!" he scolded.

"Dude, 'hell' isn't even that bad. Also, what exactly do you want?" I guess my demeanor was less than friendly, and he seemed taken aback.

"Hey, calm down," he started, then cleared his throat. "I'm here because of what happened on Friday. Ah..." His sentence trailed off and he ran his fingers through his hair.

I sighed. "It's fine. You don't, uh, have to do that again. I had a little meltdown, I guess... "

"That's the thing," he interrupted. "I wanted to—"

"It's okay. It happens a lot; nothing new. I know everyone saw what happened. They must be wondering what that was about. You don't have to talk to me or anything..."

"But I—"

"We don't have to be friends; it's okay—"

"Oh my god, girl, will you listen to me?" His voice grew shrill, and I quieted. He took a breath.

"So, I don't know the whole story, but I know what happene with, uh, with Faye and Devan."

"Don't. Say. Their. Names," I murmured threateningly.

He stuffed his hands in his pockets, even took a small step back. "Okay. I won't. My point is, I know what happened. I figured your... episode last Friday was because of that. Am I correct?" I nodded slightly. He went on.

"So... I don't know. I just feel like you're... not really handling your grief well? I feel like when you... when you lose someone you love..." he paused before continuing, "you... you need someone to talk to, is all I'm saying. You need someone to help you through this rough time. Sorry, that sounded corny." He gave a lopsided smile. "Anyway, I just want you to know that... if you need someone to talk to, I'm here."

A few beats of silence followed, and he stood there awkwardly, hands in pockets. I managed to shrug. "Okay?" I hadn't realized how much of this I'd been keeping inside, and it probably wasn't healthy. Maybe it would be good to talk. I still wasn't very sure of him, not sure if I could open up that much to him, but if it would help...

"And...," he continued, "I also wanted to say that I'm sorry for your loss," he added, wincing. "I know nobody ever likes to hear that and it's such a formality and it's really just a thing you say to someone when they've lost someone important and it's just supposed to be respectful but the person saying it doesn't have to actually feel anything... but I do. And I really am sorry. Usually, the person receiving the 'I'm sorry for your loss' supposed to say 'it's okay' but you don't have to... because it's not okay. It really isn't. That's... that's all, I guess." He let out a breath, and I swallowed hard. I bit my lip and twisted my mouth in an odd little line to prevent myself from crying, because this certainly wasn't the place or time.

I blinked furiously and swallowed the sob choked in my throat.

"Thanks, Brussel sprouts," I said quietly.

⸺⸺⸺

World History was the only class I shared with the infamous Claudia, and she clearly wasn't over what had happened a couple of weeks ago. I'd had to bear through the nasty looks she gave me all through class, her smirks whenever the teacher called on me, the eye rolls whenever I got a question right and shorts whenever I got one wrong. I shot smoldering glares of disdain at the back of her head when she wasn't looking.

A backpfeifengesicht, that was what she was. I'd remembered reading that word in a book somewhere, and it stuck with me all my life. A backpfeifengesicht, or a "face that needs a fist", was definitely a fitting word to describe her.

I sucked in a breath and ground my teeth, rage bubbling beneath me. I wanted to hurt her. I wanted to hurt her immensely, but I crushed down the thought and tried to regain my composure, pressing my pencil to my paper so hard the tip broke. Of course. I exhaled sharply in frustration, a sound audible to the entire class.

"Miss Rhodes? Is there a problem?" Mr. McKinley asked me. Of course, Claudia shifted in her seat to direct her gaze, falsely innocent, towards me.

"Yes, actually..." I didn't care if I'd be called names for ratting Claudia out.

But before I could continue with my accusation, an horrible, unnatural choking sound pierced the air. Claudia's head snapped back so that her surprised eyes were focused on the white tiled ceiling. My words died in my throat.

The teacher rushed over to Claudia as she began shaking violently, her arms flailing out wildly in all directions, her feet kicking the ground. The awful, inhuman gargling sounds continued, and her head thrust forward, making contact with the desk, leaving behind a loud, painful-sounding thud.

"Oh my God!"

"Is she okay?"

"What's happening?"

"Somebody call the ambulance!"

Classmates murmured frantically around the room, nobody wanting to get close to her. Mr. McKinley was on the phone, presumably calling the nurse or something, while I just sat there watching her flail around like a beached fish, my hand still curled rigidly around my pencil. Somewhere in my mind I thought, She's faking it, just to distract me from calling her out. Or she just wanted attention. But she wouldn't do this. Would she?

All around me, I watched the scene unfold without moving an inch: Mr. McKinley slapping the phone back into its place, telling everyone to calm down, the paramedics would be here soon, some teachers from neighboring classes coming in to see what was happening, students crying, gasping, screaming, their faces various shades of fear and disgust.

I sat calmly at my desk, thinking in the rational part of my brain that I should be joining the cacophony of worried cries, that I should be calling an ambulance, that this was definitely a situation where I should panic.

But I just sat there in a state of aplomb, for some reason, in a snowglobe of serenity, watching chaos whirl around outside like a storm.

Then, everything ceased for a moment. For one long, heavy second, Claudia's shaking abated and she swiveled her head towards me. The room grew quiet. Her face was sour-cream white, all the color flushed out, a thin film of sweat on her forehead. Her mouth was slightly open, a thin wisp of a sigh escaping her lips. We made eye contact. Her green eyes were dull and empty. My heart leaped into my throat, and mouth went dry.

There was an awful-sounding crack as she collapsed on the floor. 

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What happened to Claudia??!! Why did this happen all of a sudden?? Will she be okay??

Meanwhile, what's going on with London and Arrow? They seem to be growing closer...becoming friends...

Remember to vote if you liked this chapter!

XOXO ~brooklynrose~