Paper Hearts.

cuatro

Ashley

I've never been a fan of confrontations. Yet my inconsiderate life has made the awful decision of taunting me, being so unable to grant my desire and forever failing to do so, giving me numerous amounts of them.

It was sort of funny, how he had all the knowledge of myself. How he could read me like a book. How he knew that there was a monster standing where I should be standing. How he knew that I was trapped, and slowly drowning.

He knew everything. He knew me more than I knew myself. But when all he wanted to do was paint me porcelain wings and set me free, I shoved him away. Yes, shoved, as 'pushed' seems like such a trivial word to describe it. I didn't let him. I couldn't let him. I was too stubborn to let him. I couldn't decide if I wanted to be saved, or if I wanted to drown.

I chose to drown.

However, one can not simply use that as an excuse, for what I have done is inexcusable.

"Ashley." I hear someone, a female, whisper.

I look up.

We lock eyes and I freeze. He looks up at me for a split second, his piercing grey eyes boring into me, before immediately turning away to face his previous direction, as if he saw nothing important. Oh okay.

I remain in my frozen position when he continues his nonchalant walking out the door. Slowly, I blink repeatedly to recollect myself and start to walk. When I reach the end, Thalia is leaning against the railing and smirking.

I glare at her.

'Is this the reason behind why we were just running three fucking flights of stairs?' I whisper rather angrily, my throat tight and my head cloudy.

She nods.

I blink a few times to register what had just happened and compose myself. Good play, Lia, Good play. A smile threatens to attack my face and I let it. I shake my head and smile to the ground. 'Let's go drop you off, Lia.'

She smiles a shit-eating grin and we continue walking as if nothing ever happened, with Brad ahead by 5 metres. I start up a conversation.

'So.' I say.

'So.' She says.

'You little piece of shit,' I tell her straight up, shoving her a little. I've never been the one to hide things, I'm straightforward, sometimes maybe too much for my own good.

She laughs. 'Do that again and I'll shove you into him,' she threatens, pointing a fingernail at Brad. I almost do it again just to piss her off even more, but I don't. She's joking, but I hear a hint of seriousness in her tone so I decide to drop it.

It's 3:39 pm and he's walking alone. After our brief interaction, he seems to be walking faster than what is classified as normal, quickening his pace and almost running. I'd say he was trying to get far away from us, away from me, but I wouldn't know. He runs his hand through the back of his hair, refusing to meet my eyes and facing the floor.

We kind of exchange awkward glances as we walk through the pitch, even though I don't even look at him and he doesn't even look at me. I know he isn't looking at me. This is our way, I ignore him and he ignores me, even though we are both very much aware of each other's presence. We can feel it. Our souls are intertwined, our papers are stacked on top of each other and our hearts are connected in the most wonderful, incomprehensible way possible. We don't even look at each other, but we do. In our paper hearts, we do. I know it doesn't make sense but it does to me and it does to him, and that is all that really matters.

I don't even use this way to get home, I'm just here because of Brad. I silently thank Thalia in my head but she starts hyperventilating vigorously, panting as if she had just participated in a marathon. For a second I think she is dying, but a nod of her head tells me that she is alright. I exhale, relieved. I should be panting, too, we did just seriously run down three fucking flights of stairs, but I guess the presence of him made me flustered to the point that I am not flustered at all. Does she do this with Niamh, Brad's family friend and ex, I wonder? I hope not. I don't know about her, really, that Niamh girl, she seems to be my friend yet when she's with her friends she acts as if I don't exist. It pisses me off, but who am I to blame her? This is typical, the normal behaviour of anyone in this school. Even better yet, she should be the definition and epitome of a Cranleigh High School inhabitant. Yes. I bet she secretly hates me, the sixty-ninth faced bitch.

My eyes scan the atmosphere in searches of Brad, the strange way he wears his PE bag draped across his torso helping me locate him with ease. God, I've never been so jealous of a PE bag.

It seems he has met up with two of his other squad mates, Colin and Curtis. I should've known it was too good to last, he is rarely ever seen alone. The extrovert.

I can see his previous demeanour slowly fade as he laughs, forgetting my presence altogether. I can see our connection slowly diminish, and our connection slowly decrease. My heart sinks further than I could have thought it could have. Every time I think that every piece is already too broken to be broken again, he comes along and breaks another piece I didn't know existed. I can't look at him, so I don't. It hurts too much.

When I decide that I can't bear it any longer, I rip my eyes away from his toned figure and turn to face a daydreaming Thalia. I lightly pat Thalia on the shoulder to inform her of my leaving, and a simple 'ok' escapes her lips in response. I thank her, and run off to where I am supposed to be - picking my brother up. After waiting in line for a few minutes, I call his name and he shouts an exasperated 'FINALLY,' and it takes everything inside me to not slap him. I carry his bags and ask him how his day was. His hand pulls at my arm and he pouts, indicating for me to hold his hand, in which I do without a second thought.

When we escape the realms of school, I sigh, knowing that Brad will never forgive me.

We enter the car and head home.

*

I walk into the white flat that is my home and make my presence known. I go up into my room and there is a letter on my desk. I think my mother had placed it there earlier. Suspicious, I rip it open and read:

To students and parents of Cranleigh High School 2015,

I am pleased to inform you that a trip to the mangroves will be taking place on the 26th of April, Monday morning and the 27th of April, Tuesday morning. This trip is to help the students in their current topic of the Mangroves and to encourage the generation to start a Mangrove Motivation Campaign. Classes will be paired up with other classes, as follows:

Monday

- 9J to go with 9B

- 9Q to go with 9H

Tuesday

- 9T to go with 9F

Students may pair up with peers of their own choice. Whether you decide to attend is completely up to you.

Sincerely,

Mr. McAllister.

I smile, returning the folded paper into its envelope and putting it back onto the table. It had mentioned a trip, to the mangroves? That is what we had been studying this term. I don't know why, but I'm nervous. I've done kayaking before, yes, but that seems a while ago. I don't quite recall the sensation only that it was painful. Who is 9F going with? I ask myself, cringing at my stupidity for not reading the most important part.

I open the letter again.

9F to go with 9T

Shit.

*

IM NOT IN MY BEST MOOD OK SORRY IF THIS SUCKED ASS

lysm <3

#brashley?

A