Chapter 8

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Bridget's POV
"Come on, Bridget--you have to let go, so I can walk." Daniel mumbled, untangling his arms from my body. 
I didn't want to let go.
I couldn't take letting go of one more person.
I tightened the hold I had on him, wishing I could climb inside his chest and hide in there forever.
"Bridget." He groaned like he was embarrassed, I could feel his heart beat rising into a fast thump against his ribcage. When I hadn't shown any signs of moving, wordlessly, he returned his arms to my waist and lifted me off the ground. Daniel carried me like a child through the hallway's, I had my head buried in the crook of his neck so I couldn't see Crystal or anyone else looking at me.

"Talk to me." Daniel said softly, as we rounded a corner.
"I  can't do this anymore..." I whispered. A tear slipped down my cheek, staining the collar of his shirt.
"It'll be okay, Bridge." I heard Crystal say, and then I felt a hand rest on my back. Her voice was so optimistic, I knew she was lying--How would she, no, how would anyone know any situation will be 'okay'? You don't.
That's why its best to assume the worst, you don't get hurt that way. I opened my eyes fast enough to see Daniel walk straight into the girl's locker room, Crystal close behind, thankfully, there wasn't anyone in there. Daniel leaned down, and plopped me down on top of a bench, but I was still attached to his neck.
"I'll be right back. Crystal's going to stay with you, okay?" He looked me in the eye. I unhooked my arms from around his neck reluctantly, and he took a step back, scratching the back of his neck. The whole front side of his shirt was soaked through. 
He gave Crystal a meaningful look before jogging out of the locker room.

I sat there, my knees drawn close to my chest, still dripping. Crystal collapsed down next to me, seeming exhausted.
"Hey, kid," She put an arm around me awkwardly.
"You doing okay?"
I closed my eyes.
"No," I choked out, "No, I'm not."
crystal squeezed me tighter,
"It'll be okay, Bridget. It'll be--"
"You don't know if it'll be okay, Crys." I stood up.
"So, stop. Please." Crystal stood up too, as I yanked the waterlogged sweatshirt over my head. It fell to the ground in its own little puddle. I stared at my soaked tank top in the mirror, and sighed.
There was a long silence between us. In my peripheral vision, she took a combatant step forward.
"You think its easy for me too?!" She demanded,
"You think I'm doing just fine without my big brother?" I swallowed.
"You know that's not what I meant. You just don't understand, Crys.
"No one did.
"Really?" She was shouting now,
"You really just said that, didn't you? I think I do understand a little more than you think. When I walk by his room in the morning, he's not there to make fun of me. When I have dinner, if that even gets done--my step mom is so depressed she doesn't even come to the table! And then you, my best friend is sitting here like some kind of lost puppy!"

I looked at her. Hurt was an understatement.
I was so hurt my face couldn't form an expression that would match the feeling growing inside my heart.
"I didn't know you felt that way." I replied hollowly, staring down at Dylan's hoodie. Crystal stared back at me, her glittery eye shadow streamed down her cheeks in floods.
"I guess i'm just good at hiding my feelings," She said, a bitter smile on her face,
"Unlike you. You're acting as if its the end of the world, Dylan's my brother. He's just another boy to you. So what people are calling you names--try being completely invisible." Crystal shook her head, more tears streaming down her face,
"Why don't you get over yourself?"
Get over yourself. I almost laughed, I've been telling myself that ever since Dylan had left. But Crystal continued, as if that wasn't enough.
"Just because you lost your dad," She spat,
"Doesn't make you any more important that anyone else. It doesn't make you any more pitiful." My heart stopped. First Mistake. Dad. Dad. Dad.
I looked at her and opened my mouth. I didn't have anything to say. How could Crystal say that? Yeah, maybe I was an attention whore, and selfish too--but did I not have the right to become a person in need of consoling after my own father's death? Was I not a pitiful person? I didn't think Crystal's head was screwed on quite right. Her words contradicted each other in everyway possible, she sounded ignorant.
Like one of those cheerleaders who'd dumped that bucket of water over my head.

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