The State of Broken Things

A Blessed Mess Of Life, Love and Light

A Blessed Mess of Life, Love and Light

There's a lot of debate in this current day and age about school. Whether or not it's effective in teaching, whether or not we learn correctly.

Most students at my school, a college preparatory school, actually excel in academic testing. It's what we're trained to do; learn the information, pass the test, move on to the next one. It isn't sustainable, and none of us actually learn anything beyond how to memorize really, really well.

Because of this, we typically all favor assignments like tests and quizzes as opposed to the more holistic approach that more schools have adopted, such as a stupid eight minute presentation I have to give today. We were all instructed to 'dress for the occasion,' and Addie had somehow managed to convince me to wear a suit. A stupid suit.

Besides that, though, I like to go on the opposite approach and say that I've probably learned more from my high school years than I ever will in any other stage of my life. We've grown up, been through some shit, came out of it level. Almost level.

High school is hard. Kids suck, classes are difficult, and everyone goes through a stage of hating themselves more than anyone else will.

How any of survive that is beyond me.

But we did it.

The end of senior year is just around the corner, and it's becoming more and more real as every day goes by. And while I'm not necessarily scared, it's also a little shocking.

I still feel too young, some days. I still feel like I need to let my mom know where I am, what's going on with me and how I'm doing.

But in a few short months, I'll have taken on full adult status. Doing all of those things for myself.

And yeah, maybe that's a little scary, but it's overridden by complete and utter thrill at the idea of pure freedom.

I'm going to college.

I've made my decision, and I'm going to have my dream.

"You look nice."

Jumping in surprise, I almost drop my books in my haste to turn around and see who's talking to me. Out of all of the people I would have thought, I did not expect her.

"Thank you," I say, trying not to phrase it as a question.

Katrina stands there, shifting uncomfortably from side to side, clutching the strap of her bag so tight her knuckles were almost white. We haven't spoken in weeks, for obvious reasons, and she's been deliberately avoiding our side of the cafeteria for a while.

But she was standing there, looking so little and so lost.

"I'm not-" I swallow, tie too tight around my throat. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," she says. "I just wanted to talk to you."

"Okay," I say. "Um. About what?"

"I don't like being the new kid," Katrina blurts out. "My moms are both in the military, so I grew up moving all the time. And being the new kid sucks, okay? Especially by senior year. Everyone has their friends and it's so hard to find a place."

"Cas offered to let you sit with us a week in," I remind her. "We all welcomed you."

"I know," she says quickly. "But it wasn't always like that. And he was nice, and it was wonderful. And Cas is so... he's so awesome. I guess you'd know that. Better than anyone."

She's rambling a little bit, but I stay quiet.

"I just wanted someone like that for me," she says. "A boyfriend as good as he is, because... because I never had that before, and I thought maybe it was time for me to have a good thing. So I didn't care that you guys were together. I wanted him. And that was it."