Sight

Five.

"A great teacher once said, it's not about how hard you hit, it's about how hard you can get hit, and still continue to move forward."

I recommend listening to either the songs, Words by Skylar Grey or To Build A Home by The Cinematic Orchestra for this chapter.

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After school was over, nervousness met me at my door when I realized I had a date with the British Transfer, I don't even know him! What was I thinking?!

I walk down the halls with my head down, an English accented voice playing at the back of my head and my hand wrestling my way too large Economics text book into my sling.

I crash into a body and the large text book tumbles to the ground, grunting in frustration I look up, "Can't you watch where you're going?!" I snap with a shriek as I bent down to pick up my text book. When I look up and I see a girl with dark hair braided and slung over her shoulder, her eyes were rimmed with rings of black eyeliner, her dark eyes seeming darker, and her black tee with the words, DON'T HATE THE PLAYER, HATE WHAT LIFE MADE THE PLAYER, and accompanied by jeans and boots, it gave her a 'death washed over' look.

Her firmly set, thin, cherry red lips, twisted back into a scowl, her eyes boring holes into my own. It's surprising how many people are so unknown in this massive school.

"Don't tell me what to do." She said her
voice deep and taunting, I looked away and when I looked back at her, an expression loaded and dripping with mockery stared back at me, and then she shrugged, and walked away.

I don't know what came over me, or what compelled me to do this, but I turned around and pulled her back by her shoulder, "Hey, what's your name?" I jerked and spun her around. She didn't turn; she stayed put, her body facing away from me, but she looked over her shoulder, her eyes looking like they were shining with tears, with a gasp I pulled my hand away, "Are you alright?" I ask with a soft voice.

"Don't ask questions you don't want answers to." She snapped, a tear escaping its hold on the edge of her eyelash and rolling down her cheek.

"I--" The thought I mustered to put into words wasn't completed because she just stormed off, her head down and her French braid shining in the headlights, seeming to be a deep, mahogany brown. As she walked past the mindless teenage boys and girls in the fairly crowded hallway, no one seemed to notice her, she just shoved and bumped her way through the bodies and kept her head down, as people laughed or shrugged at her, she never turned to look back or snap at them, she just walked and I continued to observe her until she disappeared into the next hallway.

A pang of sadness jabbing at my heart, I continued to eye the end of the hallway as I turned around and made my way to the front doors of the school. I couldn't help but wonder where she was headed.

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"Why are you so nervous?! A hot, English boy asked you out, what in God's holy name, is the problem woman?" Avery incredulously asked as she connected her curling iron into the wall socket near my dresser.

I continued to pace and I tugged on the ends of my hair, enjoying the subtle pain the resonated from the roots as I pulled on certain locks.

"You don't get it Ava; I haven't been on a date in the past year. Not since--since Daniel." I muttered as I looked at my feet, shuffling them one over the other, a habit since I've had since I was a child.

"Ria," Avery said as she kept the curling iron on the surface of my dresser and walked over to me, "What happened with Daniel... I know words won't make up for the pain you experienced. Your heart was cut out and stomped all over and--" I raised a hand to stop her from let out more earth shattering words, Avery has no filter, something I love and want to kiss her for, and hate and want to stab her for.