Blaze (boyxboy)

Chapter 29

☆Blaze☽

Chapter 29:

Do you ever just wish that you could unmeet someone? Maybe I was crazy, because I didn’t.

The first day back at school was the hardest. From the side-glance whispers to Beatle trying to me, it was hell, to say the least. Everything was difficult. Paying attention in class was especially foreign. I had become so accustomed to daydreaming while staring out the window about what I would do once that bell rang and I was dismissed. I had to relearn how to learn, but I had missed so many classes lost in my own mind that I didn’t know the foundation of what was being taught. So, my previous routines resurfaced, and I would go home and teach myself the lessons.

            Beatle was a whole other problem. Every time I saw him coming down a hallway I would make a point to duck into the nearest classroom, bathroom, or anywhere that would mean I could avoid him. He caught on quickly; after a few weeks he didn’t attempt to get near me anymore. He would still call, and leave the occasional text and voicemail.

            It was easy to fall back into the person I used to be, it barely took a month. I couldn’t help but wonder if I had been rash though. It had been a though aching in the back of my mind after I walked into the kitchen on day. The radio was always on to assure people we were home even when we weren’t since no one in our little town bothered to get security alarms despite the colourful stickers claiming we had one. It was the radio announcer who stuck himself in my head, saying, “We need to stop acting like we’re in high school.” Acting like we’re in high school. For the first time I had acted like I was in high school and look where it got me? Right back to where I started, but a whole lot more pain. I was going to graduate, still a virgin who’d never finished a cigarette and could get wasted off three beers. Nothing had changed, other than the fact that now I knew what it was like to act like I was in high school, to do stupid shit and blame it on the fact I was just a teen. It was like I had tried a highly addictive drug and had quit, but only now I felt the withdrawal symptoms.

            I got accepted to the schools I wanted, the programs I wanted. They had sent me the housing registration packages and I filled them in and sent them back. I got what I wanted. I got everything that I wanted.

            Sure, keep telling yourself that.

            The first time I had a legitimate conversation with Beatle after we broke up was a few weeks before prom, which I had no intention of going to- not because I was alone. I probably wouldn’t have gone to prom anyways.

            Whiskey had texted me, telling me his shoulder was acting up and needed me to carry something for him. I wouldn’t have been so suspicious of it if it didn’t happen all the time. I could tell he was frustrated by it too; a few months of physiotherapy and it still wasn’t half as functional as before. He had tried a billion times to get me to talk to Beatle, and every time I had asked him to stop talking to Mi, and then he would be silent about it for a week or two.

            He told me he was still in class; I knew where it was because of how many times I’d had to do this. It was the art room.

            I peeked in the room before entering, making sure I wasn’t about to walk into the middle of Ms. Alan’s class, because she was one of those teachers I would walk around the entire school just to avoid passing.

            I didn’t see him right away, so I went to the back where the pottery dried to see if he was there.

            “Whiskey?” I called out, but no one replied. I sighed in annoyance and got out my phone to text him. I heard the art room close and began walking back towards the centre of the class, shoving my phone into my pocket.