Letting Go

Four

Laine.

Another meek-faced freshman stumbled into me, causing my papers to fly off my arms and onto the ground.

"Excuse me," she squeaked out.

I glanced at her as she scampered away like a little mouse. New kids were always so feeble - the way their eyes drop to the ground when they encounter older students, the way they stay huddled up in the back corner of the cafeteria, and the way they seemingly weren't capable of speaking when I talked to them was... pathetic. Simply pathetic.

Of course, I wasn't like that when I started high school. I managed to comprehend the social dynamics of Central Bank High as soon as I step foot. It took some people approximately a year until they could sit in the middle area of the cafeteria, but others were lucky.

I was part of the fifth-percentile. I made the first round of cheerleading tryouts and I was able to bond quickly with the older girls, which earned me a coveted spot at the round table. It was the biggest table in the cafeteria, which was usually where the popular juniors and seniors ate their lunch. I remember feeling out of place when I first sat there, but it disappeared as soon as a particular Quentin Gavras caught my eye.

Q, as people called him, was the vice captain of the baseball team. He was like a Greek god - all chiseled up and glorious, and he liked me of all people. I was flattered, really. He was almost eighteen whereas I was fourteen when we started dating, which sparked controversy in the halls of Central Bank. Our age difference was widely commented upon, along with rumours from jealous bitches, which were entirely untrue, I might add. Although, I couldn't care less. Any publicity is good publicity, right?

But alas, I ended things with Q. We dated for about a year, on and off, until I caught him half-naked with Claire Mendoza in the locker room. I held my head up and made sure people knew that I dumped him because of that little rendezvous and not the other way around, so people turned their nose in disgust whenever they crossed paths with Q.

"Fucking freshmen," snapped Meredith, breaking me out of my daze. "When will they ever learn to use their eyes?"

"Don't be so mean," I said, smiling a bit. I admit I was mean-spirited, but Meredith was so much nastier than I was. "She still has a lot to learn."

"Whatever," Meredith waved off. "Enough about freshmen. I have something to tell you about Wes."

"What?"

Meredith dropped her voice lower and leaned forward. "I hooked up with him yesterday."

"You did what?" I cried.

"Shush!" she hissed, grabbing my arm. "He picked me up after school and we had fro-yo before hanging out at his place. Then it just happened."

"...Good for you, I guess. Did you do the dirty?"

"No, nothing more than a little hand stuff," she replied, popping her gum. "I don't want to come across as easy."

"Oookay," I replied, squinting my eyes. "I think you seem to be forgetting the fact that their school is playing against ours this weekend. How could you?"

"Meh, you knew I never had school spirit in me," she replied indifferently. "Besides, I'm sure we're gonna crush them. Adam can handle them, Lainey."

"Speaking of Adam... I've got to go. I'm having dinner at his house tonight, and I don't wanna show up looking like a heathen," I said, gesturing at my denim shorts.

"Oh, you guys made up?"

"Yeah, he came over last night with flowers and Baskin Robbins."

"Good to know. Well, good luck for tonight."