Saving the Reject | Michael Clifford | Editing

e i g h t e e n ;

Charli

This week went by much too fast.

It seemed like one moment, I was sitting next to Scarlett at lunch on Monday, and the next I sat next to Dawson and Evie, watching her walk across the stage to get her diploma. Now I stand in the lobby of the airport, tears streaming down my face as Scarlett's plane was called to be boarding. She could have - and should have - gone through security and everything over a half an hour ago, but she said that she couldn't stand to leave us until she absolutely had to, and that was now.

Scarlett tearfully embraced her little brother, saying, "Don't forget me, kid."

Vincent replied with, "I don't think that's possible," and another wave of tears hit all of us.

Sniffling, Scarlett gave Vincent one last squeeze, before moving over to Hank. "Take care of them," she whispered to him. I saw him smile. I know that Scarlett never really excepted him as anything more than her stepfather, but she loved him like a father nonetheless.

"Always," Mr. Jensen replied.

She bent down to hug Evie in her wheelchair, though it was awkward for the both of them. "Screw it, I'm standing," Evie said, causing us all to laugh. I kept her wheelchair steady as Scarlett helped her stand. The cancer had weakened her, yes, but there was enough strength in her to stand for a few minutes at a time without too much pain. This was one of those important moments.

Evie hugged Scarlett with as much force as Scar hugged her. "Don't die before I get back," Scarlett joked.

"Don't make this beautiful moment morbid!" Evie scolded, causing us to laugh again.

"Okay, wait," Scarlett said, pulling out of their hug and holding our short-haired friend by the shoulders. "Before I go, I have to know: are you and Ashton dating?"

I smirked at this. Scarlett and I had been trying to get Evie to admit it this entire week, but she has yet to. Maybe the guilt of Scar leaving will get it out of her.

And that it did.

"Maybe. . ." Evie said, her face turning crimson. Scarlett gave her a look. "Okay, yes, we are."

"Finally!" Scarlett and I said in unison. The three of us looked at each other, before bursting out laughing. Wow, this is so bittersweet.

And that was what it was when I came from behind Evie's once-again-occupied wheelchair.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered, knowing of my fear of losing the people I love.

"Hey, don't worry about it," I whispered back, hugging Scar tighter. "Adventure is out there, go find yours."

Scarlett laughed at my shameless attempt at quoting our favorite Pixar movie, saying, "Oh, that was terrible."

"Oh, shut up. Go find yourself a hot Italian guy, then," I said with a smirk. I could practically hear her roll her eyes.

"If you and Evie don't FaceTime me everyday, I will hurt the both of you when I get back," she said, diverting the subject. This girl really hated the idea of relationships. As she pulled out of the embrace, I saw just how serious she was, with a warning look in her eye, and a finger pointed at us.

Evie and I promised her, even pinky promised. Of course we would contact her daily. How would we get by without some sort of contact with her? She's our best friend. She's family.

"One last thing," she said, pulling something out of her smallest carry-on bag: the polaroid. We had been capturing her last week in photographs, making sure she would never forget the last memories of us. Now, she handed the camera to her mother, instructing her to take three photographs of us. "One for each of us," she explained.

Teary-eyed but smiling, Scarlett and I crowded around Evie's wheelchair, hugging each other for possibly the last time in months. I decided then and there that the photo I would get, no matter the quality, would be framed.

As another warning boarding call for Scar's flight sounded overhead, she quickly embraced her mother. The two of them said nothing to each other; the tears did all the talking. I found myself envious.

As Scarlett walked away from the five of us, sending one last bittersweet wave our way, Evie, with tears streaming down her rosy cheeks, reached out for my hand. I met her halfway, grasping her hand tightly, giving my strength to Evie, as she gave hers to me.

Until the day Scarlett returns, there will forever be a missing piece.

But I tend to have a lot of those.

We were at the doors of the airport, about to part ways with the Jensens, when I noticed something odd. "Luke?"

The blondie had just practically jumped from a cab, and at the sight of us, his eyes widened. "Oh, no. No. Please don't tell me I'm too late!"

But he ran into the airport before any of us could answer him. Confused and worried glances were shared, before Mr. Jensen and I ran off after Luke, hoping to stop him before he does something stupid. Luke does not need to be arrested.

We followed Luke, calling after him to stop, but he was further ahead of us, and soon disappeared behind a corner, near security, where we had left Scarlett. As we turned this corner, Mr. Jensen and I were stupefied to a halt at the sight in front of us.

There, in the middle of the Sydney airport, stood Luke, his lips pressed against Scarlett's. A millions thoughts surfaced in my mind, but one major one pushed to the front. Dang, he has bad timing.

They stood there for many moments, foreheads resting against each other, whispering hushed conversations that I'll never hear, as I stood beside Mr. Jensen, watching that with a smirk that matched his. Maria and Hank both loved Luke, apparently.

Scarlett never noticed us, staying there with Luke until the last boarding call was heard for her flight. Even after she left, Luke stayed where he was, watching her until she couldn't be seen.

When Luke turned around, his eyes immediately found Mr. Jensen and I, widening at the sight; but Mr. Jensen and I didn't move, and this was the only way out. Luke was forced to face us. He approached us like a child in trouble, about to be punished.

"I take it you saw that?" he asked us nervously, not completely meeting either of our eyes. We nodded, our smirks not fading.

Mr. Jensen clapped a hand on Luke's shoulder reassuringly. "Just be glad I'm not her actual father, kid."