Flirting with Death

1

My old Ford truck skidded across the shoulder as I pulled into the high school's parking lot. It was a gift from my dad, before he ended up getting deployed – again – overseas. My mother had already been gone for three years then, though it felt like yesterday that she had left us.

I gritted my teeth as I slowed to a stop in front of the curb, right between the white-striped lines. I hauled myself out of the vehicle, my hand automatically latching around the right-hand strap of my navy blue backpack. When I got out fully, I threw it carefully on, re-adjusting the straps as needed. In the dingy grayish blue paint of the truck's cab, I could see an almost mirror reflection of myself. Bright hazel eyes ringed by deep bags that told tales of my long battle with insomnia; Dark hair that was cut, almost pixie-like, spikes framing my pale face. Despite the color of my schoolbag, none of my attire for this day was blue; Red long-sleeved shirt, dark ripped jeans.

I scoffed as my hand raked over my hair, trying to make it lie flat. No dice. I sighed deeply, then turned to go up the walk to my school. Despite it being early January, it wasn't all that cold. But that was probably only because we lived in Texas, the most sunshiny state between Florida and California.

"Matthew!" I heard my name being called. My eyes immediately flitted to the left, to see a young woman in a pale blue dress with pink flowers printed upon it. She was smiling and rushing towards me, her arms extended out to catch me in a hug. Even though I had enough time to be warned, to sidestep her, I let her envelop me, the fragrance of waterlilies and peaches following her warmth like a happy little dog on her owner's heels.

"Grace," I said, my voice strained slightly because of her arms squeezing me so tight.

"Oops, sorry!" She said, laughing, and finally released me.

"Damn, did you miss me?" I muttered, looking down at my arms in mesmerization. Underneath the fabric – which had been pulled up slightly – I could see small bruises forming. Grace winced, facepalming herself so hard that her pale blonde hair jumped off of her forehead and to come around her ears, which were reddening from the blood rushing to them.

"Sorry." She repeated quietly. "I just... I haven't seen you in two weeks, Matt."

"Three," I corrected, almost immediately.

"See?" She said, shaking her head. Her blonde hair was curled, looking quite natural. Her skin was a perfect tan, usually only seen on supermodels. And people who attend nudist beaches regularly. "It's been that long." She emphasized her words.

I bit my bottom lip." Yeah, I know." I replied. "Where's Heath?"

"Oh, he's somewhere." She said, obviously not pleased that I mentioned him. He had, maybe, not quite the smallest - but he had a crush on me. She was jealous of him, of course. Which is actually an understatement.

I laughed softly, punching her in the arm playfully while doing so.

"Oh, come on. He's not that bad." I told her. She pursed her lips, but said nothing to argue with me.

We walked up the rest of the pathway and into the school's main entrance. She kept glancing at me, as though worried that I might run off to find our friend. Several times, she tried to interlock our hands together, which had begun to piss me off slightly. Not bothering to hide my annoyance with her, she stopped.

"Matty!" A high, though male, voice called through the halls, a grin apparent in it all the way. By the way Grace pursed her lips, we both knew who it was.

As we turned the corner, Heath came into view. He was a tall but lanky boy, given that he rarely ate that much, and looked about 12. He was actually eighteen, a senior just as I was, and of course, Grace. He had long brown hair that looked as appealing as dirt to most people, but of course, it looked like chocolate strands to me. His eyes were a sparkling green, like bright seaweed, and his lips curved like rose petals somehow.