The Revenge of the Geek Betrayal.

Chapter eight; his realization. -long-

With haste, I arrived home rather late. But if it meant hearing Jackson's voice, I would've given up my whole day.

Quick fingers found their way inside my pocket to reach the target, my keys. Worry pushed me to accidentally drop them, thus having to try once more. Upon doing this, the feeling of worry quickly vanished because I knew that my mother was inside, and being affected by concern was alien to her when it came to me.

I could've stayed up all morning, until the bright moon declared night, and she would still not go on a rampage: stomping her feet and calling me by my full name. For a bizarre reason to you, but one which seemed normal to me, I wished that she would, someday, do that.Then I could go to sleep, knowing my mother would protect me from anything because she worried about me.

"I'm home mother," I voiced, walking into the living room to make sure she hadn't been kidnapped. That thought didn't scare me, strangely enough.

Acknowledging my existence with only the faintest peck on the cheek, she went back to watching television. Her lips felt cold and chapped. They didn't summon a feeling of worth inside of me, if anything, it chipped away at that.

The kitchen didn't look like it had to be used to make dinner, and the rest of the house appeared to be clean enough to invite the Queen of England for tea, so I ran to my bedroom, a mere source of escape.

I lay awake just thinking about Jackson. When I felt that he was becoming too much of an imprint on my mind, I tried to stop. That task read in stamped red, bold letters 'IMPOSSIBLE.'

So that night, for the first night, my head was completely distracted by a guy. And he was what my dreams were based around.

Hesitation woke me up too quickly for me to remember anything in the morning, being kind to leave a slap in there too. Sweat found it's home in the pores of my skin, causing the cold air around my room to make me it's prisoner. With sleepy, not-enough-rest eyes, I squinted at the alarm clock beside my table, fearing for the worst.

It announced 6:45.

Whoever was watching over me made sure to leave in a good occurrence in this morning. I had time to dress, wash and brush, without the rush. (And also rhyme, it seemed.)

However, my head fell back onto the softness of the pillow in dismay due to realizing that today is Wednesday. But no matter how much I wanted to rent a wardrobe which would take me into a magical destination entitled Narnia if I just found my way past furry coats, I had to get up. I wasn't a character in a C.S Lewis novel, despite strongly wishing my name was Lucy Pevensie.

I had time to spare after changing, brushing and eating. Ultimately, I thought my last ten minutes would be best spent just analyzing my time table and double checking whether I had any assignments due. My mirror had other plans.

My clear blue eyes looked back at me, its glare somewhat judging. I wished that I could look at my own reflection and say that I had curves in all of the right places. Ou contraire. All of the comfort food decided to build up in my hips, waist, arms and thighs, thus making me look like a round, human sized Pokemon ball, one which no trainer longed to capture.

I scrutinized myself once more before leaving for school. The hanging, black, beaded fringe on my bag swayed with me as I paced along pavements. My last minute pony tail wagging also. My hair was not the type which could force people to give me compliments. It wasn't a fierce crimson, neither was it a sun kissed blonde, nor a midnight cast black. It's more of a rusty brown. How exciting, right?

Upon arriving inside my registration room, the realization of Nicky's empty seat finally found it's time to hurt me. And boy was it painful. To make myself feel a bit better, I attempted to just assure myself that he was going to return. His toothy grins would eventually find it's place right infront of my face, and everything would be the same.