My Sweetest Finley

1

I never understood how people only saw the good in living. Only saw the good in people. In society. No one gives a shit about the world they're living in. No one cares about anyone other than themselves.

Now, I'm not saying I care about anyone other than myself. Because I don't. And I don't think I ever will.

I don't have any friends. I used to though.

My sophomore year was probably the best, and worst, year of my life.

I had these friends, they were loyal and trustworthy, as friends should be. Clara, June, Marco, and Elliot. God, was I in love with Elliot. He had these hazel eyes, shaggy blonde hair, and his clothes were always slightly too big. But in a stylish way.

Clara was driving June and me home from a party, while Marco and Elliot took Elliot's mom's car. It was really late at night and no one was really on the road. With Elliot trailing behind us, we stopped at a light and suddenly we jerk forward. Hard.

A semi-truck had slammed into the back of Elliot and Marco, who then slammed into the back of us. Clara just had whiplash, June had broken her nose from the airbags, as did I. Marco and Elliot died on impact.

Anyway. Since half of our friend group had died, we naturally split up. Clara moved away, I have no clue what happened to June. And I'm still here at this school where everyone reminds me that "everything will be alright" as if I haven't been told a million and one times.

Now I sit at lunch, alone. Harry Styles is yelling in my ears about babies and my English homework is making zero sense.

I feel the table shift as someone sits in front of me and considering no one acknowledges me, I ignore it.

This ginger girl reaches across the table and taps my arm. I look up at her, pulling one of my earbuds out and lowering my volume, cocking an eyebrow at her.

"I said, Hi, I'm Isla." She offers me her hand but I ignore it. "Uhm. Okay," I give her a dry response. I really don't feel like dealing with anyone right now. Or ever.

I try to go back to my work, putting my earbud back in and turning my volume back up. Hearing a faint sigh, I felt the table shift again, and release a breath I didn't know I was holding. But to my surprise, the table moves again and one of my earbuds is pulled by the cord, letting the mumble of the cafeteria flood my open ear.

"What the fuck?" I quickly turn towards the firey-headed bitch. "What the fuck," She mocks me. "You know, it's rude to ignore someone's introduction." "You know I don't care. Can you leave me alone?" My heart is pounding in anxiety. I hate people.

Isla taps my phone, turns it on, and looks at my music. "Harry, really? I'm more of a Taylor girl," She smiles at me. I give her a tight smile back. She grabs the napkin off my tray, and pen from my homework, and scribbles something on it. Her number. "Text me. I like you." She hands me the napkin and struts away.

I was just a total bitch to her and she likes me?

I put my earbud in once more, and as I do, with my luck, the bell rings. As I gather all my things, slinging my bag over my shoulders, I look at the napkin.

I grab it, shove it in my pocket, and move on to fourth period.

___

Pulling open the front door, I'm greeted by my mom. She pulls me in for a hug and I awkwardly pat her on the back. She's crying?

"What happened?" I try to pull from her hug but she only pulls me tighter. "Rocco died," She starts bawling into my shoulder, soaking my sweatshirt.

Rocco is, or, was our parakeet. We had him for about eleven years. I never cared much for birds, they gross me out. But, I know I have to console my mom. She loved that loud-ass bird.

When she finally let go of me, I looked through my closet for an old shoebox to bury the thing in. I find an old Nike box at the top of my closet. I have no use for it so I guess it will work. I make my way outside and find my dad in the backyard, digging a hole. I know he doesn't love my mom anymore. But he still does nice things for her. Like dig holes for her dead bird.

My mom walks up to me with her bird wrapped in paper towels. She places him in the shoebox and then takes it from me. In her attempt to put him in the ground, she loses balance and the box falls and opens. With that Rocco rolls about three feet away. I turn away and hold my breath in an attempt not to laugh. My mom absolutely sobs.

When she finally gets him in the hole and buried, she asks "Do you want to say any words?" and looks at me pleadingly. "No," I respond quickly. "I have better things to do" I don't. But I turn away and walk inside and to my room. It's too cold to stand out there for a dead bird.

I lay down and sprawl out on my bed. My phone buzzes.

Instagram: Isla_baby_ has followed you

How the fuck? I open my phone and tap the notification which brings me to her page. She doesn't have any pictures of herself. Mostly books, cafes, a dog. A lot of the same black labradoodle. She would have one of those. My phone vibrates as I get a DM... from Isla.

Isla_baby_ - I told you to text me

finley.c - i just got home. how did you find my account? i never gave you my name.

Isla_baby_ - Yearbook.

I leave her on read and open up my contacts, typing in her name it autocorrects to Island but I think it's funny so I keep it. I type in the ten numbers then press 'message'.

Finley- Hey, stalker, it's me.

She immediately calls me. I let it ring for a second, hovering my thumb over the 'decline' button, but eventually decide to answer.

"Hey!" Isla's voice booms through the speaker. "Hi," I respond quietly. "So, I wanted to invite you to a party," She sounds very excited. She just met me. I don't know if meet is the right word. "A party?" I'm hesitant. Last time I went to a party... well...anyway. "Yes!! It's my friend's party. And it's not really a party it's just a few people hanging out." "Okay," I reply. A get-together shouldn't be that bad. "REALLY?! Oh my gosh, I'm so excited!!" I turn my volume down, she's so loud. "Okay, text me your address, dress casual. I love you, bye!" I start to say 'bye' but she hangs up before I could even get my breath out.

I text her my address and fifteen minutes later there's a knock at the front door.

"I'll get it!" I yell to no one in particular. As I open my door, Isla jumps into my arms for a hug. "Hi," I manage to get out as she is squeezing the life out of me. "Hi!" She squeals into my ear, causing me to pull my head back.

Isla takes my hand and pulls me out of the house. "Bye, I'll be back later!" I yell again, to whoever is listening.

Isla is dressed in ripped jeans and a dark green crop top with some writing on it, but it's too faded to read. And I'm wearing Men's jeans and an oversized Sublime T-shirt.

"I like your fit," Isla says, very cheery. As I go to say thank you, she turns up the volume really high, blaring "London Boy" by Taylor Swift. I can sit through one song.