Dear Cheyanne

Unwanted Comments

Another week of therapy.

I felt a hint of relief. But it didn't last long. I knew I'd have to go back again next week. I dread it.

Sitting In my car, I thought about getting myself back into school. Who would have my back? Leah? Yes, she would, but she's got her own friends to worry about. Being in public again scares me. My heart beats a mile a minute when I think about it. But everybody is right.

I can't sit around and make myself feel worse. I had to go back to school.

I pulled the paper out of my hoodie pocket that Ms. Dayton gave me. It had instructions on what I should do about this whole "letter" thing. Writing letters to a dead person sounds crazier than what I already am. I wasn't so sure about it. I began reading.

" Until you begin feeling like yourself again, write in a journal about how you feel. Whether it is to yourself or to someone who can't see them. Writing your emotions out helps with built up anger.

Keep in contact with your instructor/therapist with how the project is going and how it's making you feel."

I sighed at that piece of paper. A project? It sounded nonsensical to me. Was therapy supposed to be another class for me? But I said I'd try anything, at least for my family. I set the paper down on the passenger's side seat when I started hearing my phone buzzing in the cup holder. I looked down to see Vada's name on my screen with a picture of the two of us.

I raised my brow at this awkward moment. I haven't talked to Vada in days. It was strange she was calling me out of the blue. Do I answer? Of course. I picked the phone up and clicked the green button to answer.

"Hey." Was all that came out of my mouth.

"Hey Emma! How are you?" Vada sounded cheerful. She always had a cheerful tone in her voice when she spoke. It made things stranger. I gulped a bit, starting my car up.

"I'm-. I'm good." I said in a stutter-like tone.

"I know you had therapy today, so I was wondering how it went! You know I always ask."

This is true. Vada always calls me on therapy days asking how things went. It is like a second week for my sessions. I guess that's another reason to add to my list of what makes her a good friend. I smiled softly at her kindness.

"Yeah, no it was good. I talked about my week... and... going back to school next week." I added, smiling through the phone, even though she couldn't see me. I felt accomplished doing something that scares me the most.

I hate school. Even before I did.

"Emma that's amazing. You should be going back to school. I'm so proud of you." Vada said, practically seeing the smile across her face from how cheerful she is acting. "You are doing so good." She added.

"Thanks." I spoke, a boost of confidence shooting through my body. "I am doing my best."

"You are, and I couldn't be prouder. Maybe next week we can get together after you're out of school and have a late lunch. That's sound, okay?" She asked. I could hear some noise in the background of where she was. It Sounded like someone banging around and slamming pots and pans. I was confused, but I ignored it.

"Yeah of course. It's a date." I said, As I started driving out of the parking lot.

"Okay great. Well... I must run. I love you and have a great weekend! I'll see you soon!" Vada hung up after she said that. I didn't even get a chance to say I love you back. I went to our messages and wrote "I love you too" and sent it. Just so she knows I wanted to respond back.

***

After sending my message, I let out a sigh. I caught a glimpse of myself in my rear-view mirror. I had bags under my eyes, and I looked restless. My skin looked oily. I cringed at myself. I looked abominable. Although I've been looking like that most days. It's sad. But that's me.

I made my way to the store. I needed a journal if I wanted to do this letter writing thing. As stupid as it sounds for the 10th time, it may help. It would not hurt to give it a try. I parked my car at a spot in the Target parking lot so I can run inside to get what I needed. I just wanted to go home and relax. Not to mention I need to get some stuff for school next week. It's been almost a month and a half since I've been to school. I have been doing my courses online since Cheyanne died.

As I hoped out of my car, I walked inside of target seeing nothing but rich people checking out with their totals being almost 400 dollars. I rolled my eyes. My mom never shopped at target. I went because they always have cute journals and school supplies. If I'm going to go about this, I need to at least get the things I want. But if I'm being brutally honest, I hated target for that reason. The rich people always shop here.

I grabbed myself a small basket to carry around in the store. I did a run through the things I needed. As I got to the home office section, I started pulling out things that I would need for school. A planner, some folders, binders, pens, pencils and more.

I personally loved the home office section. It always had a simple yet casual smell. It was the smell of paper and markers.

I could hear squealing girls in the next isle over from me. I knew that squeal anywhere though. I groaned in annoyance.

Stacey Milton.

She was one of the popular girls in my grade. She and I really don't get along. She's friends with Leah. I bet Leah is probably with her. You remember when I said Leah befriended a group that I didn't get along with? This is that group.

I ignored it and just kept looking at journals.

I saw a couple I liked. They had big journals. But some of them were too girly for me. I scrunched my nose at all of them. But then I saw one that had sunflowers all over it. When I examined the rest, it appeared to me that it was the last journal with those flowers. I smiled softly, picking it up. Cheyanne's favorite flower. I couldn't resist. It made me a little sad, but it could tell me that this was Cheyanne's journal.

"Well, well..." I heard from my left to see Stacey Milton standing next to me. Her blonde hair was in bouncy curls and her neck was dazzled in a shiny silver necklace with her name on it. Her outfit looked trashy; she had a pink loose blouse on with a gold skirt. Her face was caked in makeup. She looked gross in my opinion, but everybody found her fabulous. "Isn't it Ms. Debbie Downer."

I scrunched at her comebacks. It was trashy. Stacey and I never had any issues with each other. She just wasn't nice to anybody. She made fun of people in some way that could hurt them mentally and or physically. Apparently, it made her feel like a dominant person. I try not to let it get to me.

"Sad not seeing you in school." She spoke "We just miss your... well we really just don't miss you at all." I looked over to see Leah standing behind one of the other girls that was next to Stacey. She couldn't even look at me. This was one of the reasons why Leah and I quit talking. She can't admit that I am her friend to all her group.

I nodded, pressing my lips to a thin line.

"I really don't care Stacey." I said, setting the journal in my basket. "I don't even think about your existence."

"I know you thought about me at least for a minute." Stacey said. I shook my head, showing the annoyance through my eyes. Apparently, she did not get the memo I was going for. I was silent. "Well, I'm so sorry about your friend. Not that I really cared to know-"

"I don't have time to talk to trash now if you would excuse me, I'm busy and you are wasting my time and space. And keep Cheyanne's existence out of your pitiful mouth. You don't know her. I had enough of her idiocy. She made me angry. I cut her off and I even pushed through her. I couldn't help but make eye contact with Leah, who looked like she had nothing to.

"And you. to let someone as trashy as her talk badly about Cheyanne's name. Screw you. And you can forget about what we talked about a couple days ago." I pushed through her and made my way to check out. I didn't even let Leah make a sound.

I don't need Leah to figure out who caused Cheyanne to die. I can do it by myself without help. Hell, I don't even need the help from Vada.

After checking my things out, I walked out of the store and drove home.