Scripted

one

"Move to improve."

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October 23, 2015

I can't believe I'm actually going to do it. When I first thought of the idea a few weeks ago it was only a stupid thing, but now? Now it was happening. Today is going to be my first and only move. Am I ready? I think I've been. I don't think I've ever wanted anything more than this new beginning. Ever since —

"Do you really have to go?"

I sighed and fought not to roll my eyes, "yes Nate. I really have to go."

"But why?" He groaned and flung his rather large body backward onto my used-to-be bed.

"Because I hate it here. I'd rather not be called a slut or skank or whore or—"

"Okay, okay, I get it." He let out with a loud sigh.

"Do you?" I looked over my shoulder toward him before glancing back down at my leather bound journal that layer open against my lap. "Because I feel as if you couldn't possibly 'get it'."

"Why would you say that?" He sat up and pulled at my shoulder so I could face him. When I did there was a look of utter confusion and—dare I say—anger?

"Never mind." I muttered and stood up from my spot to finish packing the few things I had left. "Forget I said anything."

"I do understand," he said matter-of-factly and I scoffed.

"No, you really don't."

"You realize that all you're doing is taking the easy way out? There's a thing called ignoring everyone and not caring about what they have to say about you." He stood up and I had to glance up to be able to look into the light green eyes we shared—his looked furious. "We're supposed to be in this thing together. We've talked about this being the best year of our lives since we started kindergarten. And now you're leaving? All because of stupid girls? Are you really that...that—"

"That what? What do you think I'm being Nate?" I crossed my arms over my chest and felt anger and sadness filling my mind.

"Cowardly!" He exploded with a red face. "You're leaving because you can't handle being called a few names—"

"Get out." I cut him off as his breathing became labored from his own anger.

"Why?"

"I don't want to fight with you. I'd rather our last moment together for who knows how long not be marred."

"I see," he laughed humorlessly, "you're just going to push me away for being truthful."

"Do you hear yourself speak? This is why I said you couldn't possibly understand!"

"For saying you can't handle being called a few names?" His eyebrows furrowed and was suddenly furious. "It's true, Nya! Who cares if people call you things? No one does! Everyone's called something, why can't you just get over it?"

"Shut up, Nate!" I screamed with fisted hands. "You don't fucking get anything!"

"Tell me what I don't get, Nya, tell me!" He yelled, equally as angered as I was at the moment.