clementine

chapter 14: Clementine is 17 years old

Today marks the specific moment in my existence that made everything fall apart that ruined my life that killed Clementine Ross that I started dating my wonderful boyfriend, Trevor Matthews. Yet, I have not seen him all day.

When I arrived in the school parking lot, he was not there to greet me, and he hasn't responded to my texts. "Maybe he's dead." Shannon shrugs with a too light-hearted laugh. Didn't she know how little humour that joke would behold in a few months?

"Don't say that." I mumble, sending the thirty third text.

"Stop being so sensitive." She dismisses my anxiety worry by slamming her locker shut. I jump a little at the noise it makes. I am easily startled, even before.

We make our way through the crowds of students, which parts for us in a biblical manner, as is expected, toward the track field. This is where I practice.

Out here, there is a single decaying wooden table, which Keith decided was the ultimate throne for our group of high school icons. Maybe he was drawn to it because, like him, it was rotten on the inside.

We wait for the boys to arrive. I tap my foot and it rattles my frail bones, from toenails to forehead, and I feel like I have a fever for no reason. The motion builds up inside of me. Nothing bad is about to happen. It's just like this sometimes. Where I feel like even saying a word to my best friend could be the end of me and I feel so small and dainty and breakable

but it's not real. It never is.

"I never understood," Shannon suddenly says, gaze fixated on the screen of her phone, "Why Trevor insists on not joining the band." I watch her closely, but her face remains blank. "I mean, everyone knows he plays, but he won't accept that he's a band geek." She giggles at that last part.

I speak too quickly, defensively. "That's because he's not."

Finally, her blue eyes meet mine, laughing and dancing in an almost cruel way. "He plays the Cello."

"The band is lame," I lace a casual tone into my voice, restating Trevor's exact words every time I bring up the topic of his music.

You see, it's not that he's not good enough for the band, or that they're not lapping at his feet to join. Because they are. They've even extended their orchestral segment to include more instruments – including Cello. It's just a topic that he shrugs and moves on from. Like most things. Like the weather.

And I know for a fact that he wants to take his music farther than the practice room, but I think he's just scared. Afraid to stand out and take opportunities. He's a coward, which is the sum of what we ever had in common. He likes to blend in with the rest of the popular kids, and he does as he's told and walks a certain way and always chews and speaks and thinks with his mouth shut.

I wish I could cross that out.

Oh, look, the conversation has died. I am a murderer. Torn pages of scripts crumple between my fingers. But the girls don't need to talk, anymore.

The boys are here.

***

Richard walks with me from the Algebra class we take together. He laughs at the things I say, even though I don't say much.

A lot of the time I like to watch Richard laugh, because it's like watching a match something ignite. It starts with his lips, which split open to spill out hundreds upon thousands of white teeth against his coffee coloured skin. Then come his eyes, which are so black that they reflect an enormous amount of light, trying to make up for all of the darkness. I wonder what that says about Richard, as a person.

All of a sudden, Keith is on my other side. He raises an eyebrow at me. "So, where's your boy today?"

My forehead pinches, "You don't know?" I thought Trevor would have at least told the guys what he was up to. I can't help but nurture this bubbling sensation of excitement and anticipation. It has to be for our anniversary, right? That's why he's AWOL.

Before either can answer someone walks into Keith, whose dense body barely bounces from impact. There is no yelp, or squeaks of apologies, as is the usual reaction Keith Dunn receives. It takes a moment for him to process this.

"Hey," He growls at his victim, "Watch it."

My heart

                           stops.

And then starts again.

"You're blocking the hallway." Clementine replies monotonously. No rage or defence in her words. A statement filled with sturdiness and confidence and everything that Keith doesn't like.

Her arms are filled with books, and I wonder where she is going I know too well the shortcut to the library is through the Mathematics block.

The pair stare at each other for a while, before the monster Keith reaches out and shoves her to the side. The blow isn't meant to hurt her, but her thin body slams into the lockers with the rattle of flesh on bone on metal. My inhales come as quiet gasps without my permission.

"Freak." Keith spits, before striding down the hallway, shoulders set.

For a second, I am frozen in this ever changing and moving and churning world. I stare at Clementine as she indignantly plucks herself from the wall. When she looks at me, I am taken back to the forest and the school yard and my twelfth birthday party, and every day since then.

I cannot stop disappointing Clementine Ross. I wonder if she has already figured that out.