“I miss him so much.”
“It’s not the same without him.”
“Why him though?”
“I know, he was so hot.”
Holding my plastic spork in my hands, I snapped it into two blatantly uneven pieces. Tossing aside the smaller hunk of plastic, I broke the spork head from its handle.
Sighing, I dropped the bits of broken plastic on my tray where my untouched slice of pizza sat.
If Luke was there, he would have eaten it.
The same feeling of hopeless emptiness which had taken up a residence in my stomach as of late, washing over me once again, I opened a packet of ketchup and squeezed it out onto the pizza.
It squirted out like blood, crimson and thick. Peeling off the thin plastic covering on my cup mandarin oranges I dumped the hunks of fruit over the pizza and ketchup, completely soling it, diminishing any possibility of me caving in and eating it.
Glowering down at the pile of food as if it were somehow at fault for the crippling loneliness choking me from the inside out, I picked up a sharp shard of the spork handle and stabbed it into the pizza crust.
It was sharper then I thought, going straight through he crust and the Styrofoam plate beneath. Surprised, I raised up the little weapon and examined it before placing it down on the wooden table top and dragging it in a straight line towards me, leaving a jagged line.
I wondered if it would go through skin. I figured it would, if I applied enough force anyway.
I wondered what would happen if I killed myself with a broken spork in the middle of the cafeteria. It certainly would be news worthy. But why hadn’t anyone killed themselves with a spork before, it would be so easy.
Life is such a fragile thing. There one minute and gone the next. Like a light bulb. Every day, people go about turning on lights without a care in the world until eventually, they burn out.
I wondered how long death by spork would be. And if sporks would be banned everywhere.
What was I thinking?
Terrified by the dark thoughts swirling through my mind, all ending in me in a velvet lined box six feet under I hastily set the spork piece down on my tray.
“What is wrong with you?” I whispered, reaching up and running my fingertips through my hair.
Great, now I was talking to myself. I wasn’t right in the head, I knew that and it scared me.
Rising hastily to my feet I picked up my tray and dumping its contents in the nearest trash can I made a beeline for the exit. I needed to go home. I’d come back to school too soon, I wasn’t ready to function in society. I couldn’t even sit in the cafeteria without wanting to off myself with an eating utensil.
Feeling sick I was nearly to the large metal double doors when I heard my name being called.
Groaning internally I stopped.
“Calum!”
Counting to three slowly in my head I forced myself to turn around and face Bethany of all people. Rising from her table she jogged across the room and stopped infront of me.
Taking a small step back since she had obviously never been introduced to the concept of personal space, I tried to smooth the lines I could feel wrinkling my forehead.
“Hi.” She greeted.
I nodded, hoping I could find away to escape without speaking.
“I heard about Luke.” She said sadly, “It hurts so much, I can’t believe he’s really gone can you?”
It hurts.
What right did she have to be hurt?.
What right did she have to even say his name?
“You barely knew him.” I said icily.
“What are you talking about?” she gasped, “I loved Luke!”
Laughing in disbelief I shook my head, “Don’t you dare.” I warned.
“What?” she questioned.
“Don’t act like he meant anything to you.” I spat, balling my hands into fists, “Because you didn’t mean anything to him.”
“What the hell?” Bethany laughed, earning the attention of the surrounding tables, “What is your problem?”
“You wanna know my problem?” I snapped, “It’s you! And people like you! You’re so fixated on drama that in your puny mind his death is the best thing that’s ever happened to you and that’s sick!”
“You sound insane.” Bethany informed me.
“Do I?” I laughed, “I don’t care! You all want to act like you care about him, like his death hurts you but guess what? Next week when Kim Kardashian gets knocked up you’re going to forget about Luke so don’t you dare act like you knew him, like you cared about him because you didn’t! I did! And it’s not fair for you to care now because when he was alive, you didn’t, none of you did! Not one of you went to his funeral, none of you! You didn’t cry! You didn’t spend three days unable to speak without throwing up! You don’t wake up in the middle of the night hearing his last words do you?”
Bethany looked down.
“Do you?” I shouted.
“No.” she whispered.
By now the entire cafeteria was staring on wide eyed.
“He was my best friend.” I said quietly, “I loved him.”
The entire room was silent for about five seconds before a loud echoing shout rang through he rafters.
“Faggot!”
Immediately my ears rang with cackling laughter.
The next thing I knew I felt a hand slipping into mine pulling me away from the watching eyes, the laughter, the humiliation.
As I passed through the cafeteria doors I pulled my hand out of the hand which held it.
Looking up I found Katy stood infront of me awkwardly.
“Calum?” she said slowly.
Struggling to swallow the lump of emotion in my throat which prevented me from replying, I let my eyes meet hers.
“It’ll get easier.” She said softly.
Blinking rapidly to keep the tears threatening to fall at bay I opened my mouth, then closed it before finally managing to get a word out, “When?”
Wincing at how badly my voice cracked, Katy looked down.
“I don’t know.”
Pressing hard on my cheek bones top stop from crying I backed into the lockers behind me and slid down them to the ground.
“Shit.” I cursed, feeling moisture rolling down my cheeks.
Leaning forward I rested my forehead on my knees, watching as my tears left spots of darkness on my jeans.
I heard Katy exhale loudly and then she was beside me on the floor. After a moment I then felt one of her arms rest on my back and the other wrap around my knees.
“You’re okay.” She mumbled, resting her forehead on my shoulder, “I’ve got you.”
