Bloody November

Smiles

12:00 PM

I hug my binders to my chest as I wait outside the cafeteria for Sarah to emerge. She is talking to Rebecca who of course is sitting with Wes, Owen and Trevor at a long red picnic table. Every time I would look up, I'd find Wes's eyes so I resorted to staring down at my paint splattered converse. It unnerved me. Why wasn't he paying attention to Rebecca's body pressed against the side of his and both her arms wrapped one of his and that long sea of rich chocolate hair swaying from left to right with every movement of her head? Why did he not feel her ponytail smack him across the cheek?

My grip tightened when I felt a pair of eyes and heard feet. I was staring at my shoes so hard they began to bleed. Bleed.

Blood began to swell, spreading over the carpet like a wet crimson blanket. A pale bluish-white hand stabs the middle of the stained tile. The hand is connected to an arm with transparent skin and ice blue veins.

I gasp and jump a little out of surprise, clinging to air as my binders thud on the floor. I feel more than one pair of eyes and the feet are closer. I blink and the blood soaking into the material of my converse, into my socks and into my skin...vanishes.

Wes isn't the only one that just saw that.

"Savvy? You okay?"

I sigh in relief when I recognize the feminine voice. I look around me dumbly at my strewn papers and overturned binders. Sarah sighs softly and bends down to gather my things. She stands up and hands them to me.

"You know, I worry about you."

I look up into her amber eyes and see her concern for me. With everything we've been through I was surprised her curly blonde hair isn't streaked with gray.

"Don't." I try to force a smile. "I'm fine."

She nods and walks beside me as we head to our next class. I know I didn't convince her. Not with the stunt I just pulled.

I blink my thoughts away and take a deep breath, pressing my binders against my chest, almost clutching the plastic.

I just have to make it through the day. Two more hours.

I keep the chant running through my mind in a continuous strand. The final bell startles me when it rings. I nod to my lap partner, Bernie Speck and exit the room with my binder in my arms. I stop at my locker and input the combination before pulling out my bag and swinging it over my shoulder.

A tiny squeal escapes my lips when I see Wes on the other side of my door after I slam it shut. My cheeks begin to burn and I glance around me for any witnesses.

"Hey." He speaks calmly as if randomly appearing behind locker doors is a day time job.

I realize he's waiting for me to greet him as well and I nod. I don't move because I know he wants to say something. Why else stand in front of me?

But he doesn't say anything for a moment and just looks at him. His blue eyes meet my gray and they don't let go. I fear I'll have a panic attack by the time he makes a move. He took my bag from me and slung it over his shoulder along with his.

"Ready?" He reads my dumbfounded expression.

"I'm giving you a ride home. It's the least I can do for nearly running you over."

"It...It was an accident," I repeat. My voice is small and almost inaudible.

"I know but it's still nagging my conscience, you know? You were hurt."

No. I didn't know. In order to stay somewhat sane, my conscience had to be shut down long time ago. I visit a therapist twice every week to make sure it stays shut down.