Mason was at school today. I saw him the minute I entered the lunchroom, but he didn’t see me. I did not sit at my table today. I let Mason sit there alone with his friends. I did not sit at my table for the first time since I started freshman year. Instead, I pathetically ate my lunch in the boy's bathroom. I found a relatively clean stall and sat on the toilet.
No part of me wanted to ever see or talk to Mason Whitaker ever again. Well, except the part that did. He was the first person who I had met in high school who seemed to care for me. But was it all a lie? Some funny joke that his friends ended too soon? Was Mason content with leading me on until I trusted him enough that it really ripped me apart when I finally saw it for what it was: a charade?
You know what? Who cares if Mason is a jerk? I am friends with a certain Clarissa Davenport. I am flying high and life couldn’t be better. And Clarissa’s great. She’s simply wonderful. We talk and we trust each other. We are actually friends and actually have things in common.
But there was something special about having a relationship with another guy. Nothing, no girl, could replace a brother. No girl could replace a comrade.
As much as the kid annoyed me and as much as I hate him now, I miss Mason. He will always be the kid who sat with me when no one else cared.
Thomas Hickory
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The Chronicles of Thomas Hickory
Teen FictionThomas Hickory is an average high school student dealing with lack of sleep, hard classes, crushes, and the hardships of Driver's Ed. Join him as he journalizes his life for the world to see.
