Hayden & Hunter©

ONE

The wind blows through my lifeless brown hair, whisking away a few loose strands at the bottom.

Goosebumps nip at my bare arms for mere seconds before vanishing as the sun reappears.

I sigh in content and absentmindedly pick a few buttercups from the ground beside me.

Buttercups. Those were mum's favorites.

I don't know why, they seem pretty ugly to me.

"Hey, you up for tonight?" Wade asks me, plopping down beside me.

I swiftly snap my gaze towards him, mustering up a weak smile.

Wade is kind of like me in a sense. He too has a broken heart and therefore broken ways. Our view of life is pretty much the same. It all goes away one day.

I shake my head. "It's her anniversary today."

"I know," Is all Wade responds with but it's enough to make me smile.

He doesn't say he's sorry, because he knows that it isn't his fault. He doesn't say that it'll get better, because it won't. He says he knows, because he does. He cares, and I like that about him.

"So, I'll see you tomorrow night, then?"

"Yeah," I answer as he stands up, hauling his backpack over his shoulder.

He gives me a small smile before walking away, leaving me alone with just the little things, contributing to the memories of my mum.

The bell rings, signalling the end of lunch. I pop the last few strawberries into my mouth, not caring that half of them are bitter, and put my empty container back into my bag.

I walk into the girls' toilets and glancing into the stained mirror, I instantly frown at my appearance. I look depressed.

I put some concealer under my eyes and retouch my mascara. I wipe my lips and apply some tinted lip balm.

I dig my mini comb out of my bag and brush my naturally straight hair.

Pulling my skirt up a bit and smoothing out my blouse, I walk out of the toilets.

Pulling my lips into a huge fake smile, I stroll happily into my most dreaded class of the day. Maths. I absolutely hate maths, and the teacher's a bitch. Yay for me.

*~*

"Hayden," Ms. Sanders says, snapping me out of my melancholic train of thoughts.

I look up to see the Ms. Sanders glaring at me. I flinch under her heavy gaze and look around too see all of my classmates staring at me, and Xavier Marshall, an asshole, snickering.

"Sorry," I apologize quietly, a rare trait for me. But if my ass of a maths teacher is shocked, she doesn't show it.

"Sorry is not acceptable. You've been daydreaming for the whole duration of my lesson so far, and to make matters worse, you haven't completed your homework. Would you like me to have a chat with your father about your intolerable behavior?"

You know when I said she's a bitch? Yeah, I don't regret it one bit.

"No! Y-you can't!" I exclaim, horrified at the idea of it. If my dad finds out I'm not alright with my mum's death, even after three years, it'll just add to the stress he carries everyday. More importantly, it'll expose my façade.

"I think I will," Ms. Sanders tells me, her voice getting louder and the scowl forever imprinted on her forehead, getting deeper. "Can you pass me your contact book so I can write a note to your father." It comes out more like a statement rather than a question and I blurt out whatever excuse I can come up with. Unfortunately, it's "It's my mum's death anniversary today."

I cup my mouth, my eyes widening in horror. Before anyone has the chance to react, I shove all my textbook, exercise book and pencil case into my backpack, and bolt out of the classroom.

I run through the corridors, ignoring the odd runner I see giving me weird looks as I pass them. Thankfully there's no teachers about. They're either teaching, in their offices, or in the staffroom.

Taking deep, heavy breaths as I run as fast as I can out of the school gates and don't stop until I'm at the one place where I need to be. The graveyard.