Colors

II. Built Yourself Up So High For Me To Tear You Down

Terrible Threes.

That's probably why three year olds are the worst.

Third day at Richmond, and I already hate it. I have no classes with Willow, and I got partnered with a potential bully in science.

I hate it here.

Relived it was a Friday, I walked home quicker than usual, entered with more enthusiasm than ever before, and kicked my shoes off to the side in the hallway. I slung my bag back over my shoulder and walked upstairs to my room. Mom was working late again, so when I saw the pizza money and an 'I love you sweetie" note with a heart at the end, I knew I had the night for myself. I texted Willow to meet me at the corner, and that we would go out to get pizza then have a movie night at my house.

I hated her being alone at times. She was always such a shut in, but very self-conscious ever since the incident with her dad. Horror. I smiled as I saw her walk up to the corner in the Sex Pistols: God Save The Queen crew neck sweater I got her for her birthday last year. I remembered how I was the only one who showed up to her birthday party. The only one to wish her a happy birthday.

"Ready for pizza?" I asked with slight excitement.

"You know I am!" Her eyes brightened and we took off down the street.

Though she was taller than me by two or three inches, I always seemed to be the older one, though she was older than me by three weeks. I was her rock, and she was my protector. In freshmen year, back in California, where we're from, Willow was built. She weight lifted freshmen year, loved it, and joined advanced weights, but then her dad decided to fuck up the whole family on a drunken rage that went on for months. She stopped lifting, stopped communicating, stopped participating in life.

She stopped living.

We got to this local pizza parlor and took a booth in the back of the room. There was an old out dated JVC television playing Wayne's World, and subtext running along the screen. Willow had nearly every popular 80's to 90's movie memorized, not word for word, but she knew the lines real well. Time seemed to drag on, and our pizza seemed farther and farther away. I hadn't really gotten the chance to talk to Willow about...life, I guess.

"So how you been?" She shrugged. Meaning something was up, or she was feeling down. "I'm serious. Ever since the move, something's been bothering you."

"I just feel guilty."

"About?"

"The whole move. First we had to move because of the shit with Brian, and because we couldn't stay apart, your mom decided to pack up with us. I just feel like I shouldn't have told..."

I slammed the table. A few heads turned, but none of the people cared to see what went on.

"None of that was your fault!" My voice a whispered shout. "You had...needed to tell someone about... you know."

"Yeah...I do, but I just hate the fact that you had to give up California, come with me to this stupid place, in this stupid school, endure all this fucking bullying, and then you tell me that it's not that bad, when we both know that it is."

"Willow I think your-"

"I'm what? I'm fine, I'm not over exaggerating, I'm...I'm..." The tears brimmed in her eyes, and I couldn't stand it any longer. Hearing the pain in her voice and knowing what was underneath.

"Here you are loves. One large pepperoni pizza, with olives and mushrooms. Will that be all for you?" The guy was cute. Tall, about six foot, lanky, quiff-ed blond hair, thin lips, and his eyebrows on fleek.