Open When I'm Gone

11. You'd Never Know.

 It must just be a thing that happens, that when you know something you see it more often. Because as soon as Caleb said something to me about Jolie, I begin to hear the rumors floating around everywhere, about almost everything about her. I hear from a girl on the debate team that she dropped out of school for a few months because she had a child. One says that she was on the drugs her brother was selling. One even says her parents are still alive but refuse to communicate because of how awful a person she is.

And of course I can't stop myself from wondering, but all of the curiosity falls away when I see her on the other side of the cafeteria.
She looks practically terrified, pulling back into her pink hoodie, surrounded by three girls. All tall, all in various shades of green, all looking like they're stalking for a kill.

I can't hear what they're saying, but every word they say, Jolie looks a bit more and more horrified.

Her eyes find me, storming through the crowd of teens, hands clenched into fists, and slowly all three girls turn to face me. The one in the middle must be in charge, with five inch heels, hair down to her waist, and makeup so thick she looks like plastic. I think I've seen her around, but never dared to talk to her.

Next to her is a girl with curly, dark hair and darker skin, her bright orange lipstick standing out like a sore thumb. She wears a laugh on her lips, like what they were saying to Jolie was the highlight of her day.

The third one is short, with pin straight platinum blonde hair and a nose stuck up in the air like she owns the world, or this school at least.

Our school isn't small but I know that I've seen them around. They're the type of girls that everyone knows, that everyone turns their eyes away when they push others into lockers and pull their hair.

"And who are you?" the tallest of the bunch, a girl with red hair and a grin full of malice asks me, crossing her arms across her chest.

The shortest one leans in to whisper to her, a giggle escaping her lips as she does. Then the redhead turns to me with a smirk across her face, her voice dripping with mocking as she chuckles, "Eddy's boyfriend! Of course, how could I forget!"

I watch Jolie, watch as the middle one of the girls shoots out her hip, knocking her lunch tray off the table, right into Jolies lap.

I open my mouth to defend her, but the two other girls move to stand in front of me, blocking my view of Jolie.

"So," The tall one leans closer to the shorter one, fake whispering as she asks her, "What do you call a widower who was never married?"

"Single?" The other one pipes up, sending both of them into a fit of giggles. But despite their loud voices and the calling of teens echoing through the room, everything feels like it's falling away from me. I feel like I'm being stabbed in the gut, my hands shaking and vision blurred.

"It takes a ugly person to find joy in someone's death," Jolie snaps at them. I feel her hand on my back, but can't see her. I can't see anything. The word feels like it's spinning so fast I could fly off the face of it.

"Come on, Simon," She whispers to me, guiding me away. She keeps speaking to me in a quiet voice, but I can't understand what she's saying. All I hear is Eddy.

"Simon," She giggled, grabbing my hands in hers, "Guess what?"

"What?" I laughed in the same tone as she did, squeezing her hand.

She was practically buzzing, grinning from ear to ear. It made me wanna buzz with her

"I had my weekly appointment today," She started, "And my doctor said that treatments are helping! My condition is regressing, and it probably means I have a good chance of getting another ten to fifteen years!"