looking for attention (clifford)

chapter five

- hailey -

"Hails, why were you staring at the emo kid in music?" My best friend, Katie, blurted out as we retrieved our gym bags from the changing room.

"Who's tha- Oh! You mean Michael?" I laughed.

"Ooooo, you know his name, huh?" She winked playfully.

"Doesn't everyone?"

She giggled. "Nope, I only know that he listens to a crazy amount of bands and dyes his hair way more often than he should."

This was true; almost every month he would come into school with a new hair colour. I'm honestly surprised it hasn't all fallen out yet.

"I like his hair." I replied absentmindedly. And his voice, I kept this thought to myself.

"Oh my gosh, you so fancy him." She squealed like a toddler.

I snorted. "I so don't."

She gave me the 'I know you're lying' look, before shrugging her shoulders and giving up. Let me stress; I do adore Katie. However, as her closest friend I can admit that her greatest flaw is coming to crazy conclusions and making something out of nothing. I mean, how ridiculous is that? Me and Michael Clifford. Michael Clifford and Me.

That just would not work, period.

"Did you remember we're on mixed teams today?" Katie asked suddenly as we got ready for my least favourite lesson - Gym.

"Fuck. No." I had completely forgotten about that.

Our school was currently undergoing a shortage of Sports Teachers, and that could just be a random thing, but rumour has it a few of them were caught fucking in the locker room after hours and were fired as a result. I will not divulge who spread that gossip, but it is totally possible.

So, for the next few weeks or however long it took to hire replacements, we would have to join forces with the boys (gross) and pretend that we weren't insecure about our bodies being put under the scrutiny of pubescent pricks.

"I hope I'm on Luke's team." I whispered more to myself than anyone else, although I knew Katie would hear.

"He was awful to you, Hails." She put a hand on my shoulder. It was surprisingly comforting, actually.

"I know, I just... I can't help but still care." I admitted.

She nodded her head and her face wore a look of understanding. No further words needed to be exchanged.

To an outsider, I probably looked like a bang on the side. Just another chick in Luke Hemmings' long line of chicks. I realised that and I'd heard what was being said about me, but those people never got to see the good times. Don't get me wrong, he can be an arsehole and make terrible choices and say horrendous things, but he's not a bad person. He would buy me yellow roses because he knew they were my favourite flowers. He would create mix-tapes designed to help me sleep better. He'd take me to the skate park and we'd rip bongs all night long. It was the best time of my fucking life. Call it Stockholm Syndrome, emotional manipulation, whatever you want; something between us felt so real to me that four months on I'm still not able to get over him. He left a huge void in my life.

I often wonder what it's like to not feel that. I wonder what it's like to be happy.

Because somewhere along the way, I've forgotten.