Overthinking

The End Always Come Eventually

The last day of school was always my favorite day. Everyone was excited and running around with yearbooks. Teenage girls were crying and the boys just acted like boys. I smiled to myself as I walked through the crowded hallway to get to lunch. I ducked around flailing limbs as people turned off into the emotion-flooded cafeteria. I walked farther down the hall, listening as the voices started to fade behind me.

When I stepped out of the loud building, I could feel the April sun greeting me with pleasure. The plants had finally started to grow again and everything was perfect. I walked slowly to my tree, taking in everything around me. But when I reached the spot where Fish had landed, I stopped.

The pale cement was tinted orange from blood they had tried to remove. They had a plaque made in a dull penny color that said, “IN LOVING MEMORY,” with big bold letters engraved in the surface. Below was Fisher’s name and the day he died, last Monday. Someone had left flowers next to the plaque. I laughed to myself at it all. They had called his cowardice “how society killed the Fish.” Please, Fisher killed the fish, his own fish, by shaking the bag violently and enjoyed watching the misery. The coward couldn’t take care of a measly little Fish. But everyone acted like he was a hero or something. They actually dedicated a sidewalk to him.

I walked on, knowing that I was annoying myself at the thought of how much a hated him for leaving me alone, as crazy as I or he was. But the memory of the day after he left replayed itself in my mind.

People were quiet in the halls for the first time. People talked about him like he was an old friend, like they had even known he existed at all. It made me sick. I remember that I felt nothing at all. I didn’t cry because he was gone when I had to eat lunch alone. I didn’t give his locker, decorated by people who claimed to have been close with him, even a second glance. I didn’t even sign the card that was passed around by students for his parents. I wanted nothing to do with Fish, but of course, when I thought I could finally let the subject go, police show up for suicidal investigation, and of course, all fingers point to me.

The two men in navy blue uniforms pulled me into a room alone. They looked angry, like they were already scolding me for something I hadn’t even been guilty of yet. “Can you tell us what you know about your friend, Fisher’s, death?” The first man had asked me in an intimidating tone.

I sat there for a moment, contemplating the best words to say. I finally came up with, “I’m sorry, but Fisher is not a friend.”

Naturally, the second man interjected with, “But we have heard many students tell us that you two were particularly close.” The man gave me a look, filled with accomplishment because he thought he had me backed into a corner. Little did he know that years of overthinking gave you a lot of time to think about how to deal with this kind of situation.

“Listen,” I said with pure sarcasm in my tone, starting to become annoyed by the two idiots, “Fisher and I were friends, but we aren’t anymore. Fisher is a psychopath whose biggest fear was being alone. That Fish is gone now. I don’t even know who he is… well… was anymore.” I stood to leave and the two morons didn’t try and stop me.

I plopped down under my tree, trying to shake the memory and enjoy my lunch for a change. After all, this was supposed to be my favorite day of the year, and so far, Fish has ruined it with his selfishness. I let out a deep sigh and smiled, trying to let every ounce of him leave my body.

I slumped my back up against the tree trunk and started digging in my backpack for my lunch. I cursed in my head quietly as I realized I had forgotten it. I started searching other pockets, convinced I had put it in there this morning. I shoved my hand into the front pocket and blindly dug around, when my hand brushed up against a glossy book cover. My trembling fingers wrapped around it and pulled it out of the bag.

I smile filled my lips as I realized that I was holding, “How to Grapple with Glossophobia.” I flipped open the cover and laughed to myself as I read the introduction. All I could think about was how Doctor Rames was a complete nut. I still read though, but when I had made it past the second chapter, I heard the back door creak open, so I craned my neck to see what had happened. A group of six loud boys plunged down the steps towards a group of girls that laughed with them as they shoved each other around the new grass.

I was bored of watching them quickly and I again focused on my book. I read another chapter when I heard a voice behind me say, “Glossophobia, huh?” I nearly jumped out of my skin when I turned to see one of the guys from the group standing there before me. He had a glorious grin on his face when he saw my expression and I couldn’t help but grin back. He had wild blonde hair and brilliant blue eyes that studied mine. I quickly closed the book and shoved it back into my bag. “Oh, sorry,” He said, “I didn’t mean to insult you or—” He tried to continue, but I cut him off with my laugh.

“It’s okay.” I said trying to keep him from rambling on along his apology. He smiled, a small look of relief washing over him. His teeth were perfect and straight and caught my eyes constantly drifting towards them.  I mentally slapped myself, but that’s when he sat down next to me, making my muscles tense with surprise. He opened his mouth to say something, but was suddenly cut off by one of his noisy friends coming up behind him. He rolled his eyes as the shorter boy with spiked black hair approached. He sat on his haunches next to him and punched him lightly in the arm saying, “Aw look, Riordan is finally talkin’ to her like he said he would.” He made a dramatic heart with his fingers and was quickly pushed over onto his back by the blonde boy. I held in a laugh as I blushed scarlet.

The black haired boy went back to his friends laughing hysterically. The blondie looked at me apologetically saying, “Please ignore him.” I nodded once, still trying to hold in a laugh. I bit my lip and stared at my raggedy chucks, tearing out clumps of grass with my heel. Blondie then stuck out his hand to me saying, “But, uh, my name’s Rick, by the way.” I shook his hand reluctantly. His hands were warm and calloused against my small, trembling fingers, but if he noticed, he said nothing about it.

The bell rang, then, and students started walking back inside. Rick got to his feet, towering above me, and offered me his hand again to help me up. I scrambled to get my things into my bag, quickly zipped it, and shouldered it. “Well, uh, I guess I’ll see you ‘round, then?” I smiled at him and nodded once. “Oh wait, I didn’t catch your name.”

I hesitated for a moment, pursing my lips. Rick waited with brilliant blue eyes staring me down. I sucked in a breath and said, “Uh, Cathleen, but just call me Cat.”

//Hey ya’ll, I would love you forever if you could go and vote and/ or comment what you thought. But just to clear some things up:

-Yes, this is the end of the story I’m sorry if I ruined your life

-Yes, I did just name blondie Rick Riordan (the author of Percy Jackson, duh)

-No, this is not a true story; I did not have Glossophobia or a psychotic, suicidal best friend. (But, hey, thanks?)

-and yes, you do need to go check out my other book if you haven’t already bc personally I think it’s waay better than this one. But then again, I’m wrong about everything, so go read it anyway and tell me which one you like better.

Thanks guys. Much love to ya’ll for putting up with my awful plot.