Miss, Do I Know You?

07 - Monday, October 5

Seeking to make sense of the aftermath of all that had happened, I had isolated myself within the familiar walls of my home for days, constantly dredging up a half-remembered past. I had no idea what to feel anymore, even more so than ever. A war was being waged within me.

The cold reasoning of my mind stubbornly clung to the present—it screamed at me to hate her, to despise her for her selfish motives, for her calculated lies, for making me feel like a complete idiot for so long. But my heart had its own memory, carrying imprints of people, of emotions, events, and moments within, harking back to days filled with laughter and sun-kissed afternoons, ice creams and bike rides, shared secrets, and the raw sting of scraped knees.

At times, I found myself longing to confront her, to seek answers, to understand her motives for the mess she'd suddenly made of my life. But in the same breath, like a rug being pulled out from under my feet, the anger would come out from just below the surface, now muddled by the confusion and the remnants of affection that once existed. Frustration had lost its crisp edges, no longer a stark contrast of black and white, but rather a confusing hue of grey. I could no longer trust my own feelings. I could not tell if the love for my childhood friend or the anger for my manipulative teacher was the truer emotion. And so, I spent the subsequent days marooned in this confusion, in mindless scrutiny of walls and ceilings, waiting for clarity that seemed to forever evade me.

As the fog of emotional intoxication began to recede and the sobering clarity returned, I found myself back at school, hungry for a resolution. A confrontation was inevitable. But it wasn't about unleashing my anger or getting an apology. It was about making sense of everything.

I was prepared for anger, remorse, even indifference. What I was not prepared for was that my eagerness to piece together the puzzle would be met with a perplexing shift in Alex's demeanor. The stern gaze I had come to expect was replaced with a disconcerted avoidance, a jarring departure from the recent apology she had offered.

Her evasion felt worse than an outright confrontation. As class wrapped up, I wished to linger and confront the elephant in the room. But with almost pre-emptive haste, she snatched a book from her bag and walked out of the classroom with an urgency palpably designed to dodge any possibility of us being alone together. The woman who had been instrumental in creating this mess in my life now seemed intent on tiptoeing around it.

Thrown further off balance, I just shook off and spent the rest of the break in the quiet of the library. Knowing that my grades were already on the edge of catastrophe, having missed so many school days, I tried to mend the damage and catch up on some neglected homework as much as my attention span let me. Which wasn't that long.

A fleeting flutter in the corner of my vision eventually disrupted the stillness I had constructed. I managed to spot her coming from the other end of the library with a book in one arm and a cup in the other, quietly chatting with the librarian. And when our eyes met, I could have sworn her pupils rolled to the back of her cranium before she quickened her stride toward the door.

Fueled by a burning desire to speak to her and discover why her behavior had grown even colder than ever, I hastily scooped my belongings and raced after her. But right as I maneuvered around the corner, jamming notebooks into my bag mid-stride, I found myself suddenly drenched in a warm liquid. In an ironic twist of fate, I had propelled us into a closeness more uncomfortable than any amount of distance.

"Fucking ssh—" Alex drew a sharp breath. "Really?"

The soaked fabric stuck to my skin. And since it was too late to remedy the situation, I tried to find some humor in the fact it hadn't been scorching hot, or else we might have found ourselves bandaged side by side in the same burn unit.