Best Wishes for Isadora *HIATUS*

A lame dialogue.

"Hey."
"Hi."
"Um-"
"Don't bother."

Back when Isadora and I were together (not like, together together, much to my dismay, but actually sewn to each others' hip), if a guy tried to talk to us but we were "out of their league," as Isadora put it, there would be a curt conversation which would eventually become blatant insult. Usually, Isadora would take care of the talking because only Isadora was out of their league.
Every guy who came over to us would be so much more attractive than me. Sadly.
I was no longer invincible in the boy-world. So I had to be careful with Jack because I tended to fuck things up and couldn't afford to do it here.
Why is this such a big deal? I wondered. Well, only a tiny bit of my mind was really thinking about that. The rest of me was just planning out scenarios and playing Prelude No. 1 in C Major over and over again.
I was never a classical music fan, but as the keys changed in the piece and the notes seemed to spiral further into a pit of madness I realized how similar I felt...
I had to focus on the positive (the positive being talking to Jack, sadly), and I had to get out of Social Studies ASAP.
The class seemed to magically speed up as I anticipated what I would say, and suddenly I was packing my bag and trailing after Jack.
"Um-hey!" I called out to him. He turned around but kept on walking...backwards?
He seemed relaxed as he spoke.
"Are you going to bitch to me for no reason except that you're a sad angsty teenager who no one understands?" He calls out to me.
The hallways freezes, as if they didn't believe what they were hearing. No one had spoken to me like that for forever and it was an amazing awakening. I felt like I was dunked into ice after being in the oven for over a century.
And I found words pouring out of my mouth as he stopped and waited for me to approach him. I grinned a little and the hallway seemed to stop being on pause. I wished that everything could be like this, my smile being a remote for the television that was the student body.
But as soon as they realized how calm I was, they didn't care about my existence anymore.
It was like if someone dared to be unsympathetic towards me, the vultures of this high school would pick my meat armor after circling my carcass for hours.
But I wasn't the carcass, literally speaking. Isadora is.
I pushed that thought out of my head as we walked at a leisurely pace to my next class. I realized that an awkward silence had presided over the two of us like a thundercloud.
"Um, I'm Rose Aarons," I said. "And as long as you don't take the Fan Seat, we won't have a problem."
Jack grinned a little but we were still awkward.
"'I certainly have not the talent which some people possess,' said Darcy, 'of conversing easily with those I have never seen before. I cannot catch their tone of conversation, or appear interested in their concerns, as I often see done.'" I said quoting Pride and Prejudice.
"I never pegged you for someone who liked Jane Austen." Jack smiled at me and I felt warmer than the sun.
"Nor did I expect you to recognize it." I retorted before we parted ways in the hall. I was going to gym, and I assumed that he was going to the science wing, so I left it at that.
Those few minutes together were the fastest in forever. And I'd never walked at a pace like how I did with him. I realized I was ten minutes late to class as I walked inside.
But gym never mattered anyway, and other than a dirty look from Mr. Giovanni, I got changed into my gym clothes without interruption. Or being noticed. Thank God.
The gymnasium had my poor classmates tinted green, due to poor lighting and horrible paint, and the little interior designer in me had an aneurysm.
Mr. Giovanni pointed at me with a sausage finger and said five words that were the bane of my existence.
"Seven laps on the track." He grunted in his barbarian voice. He really tried to work out, but he did nothing but steroids, so he was hairy, masculine, and like a caveman.
I groaned a little bit. I couldn't even walk down the hall without having to catch my breath.
Everyone else was inside in the unflattering lighting with the unflattering gym suits talking instead of playing basketball, and I would have to be outside of all things at the scrutiny of the marching band running a mile and three quarters.
Plus I was in a oceanic blue and white sweatsuit in eighty-degree weather.
Our school was snotty enough to have vestibules and a swimming pool, but not a decent, bouncy track or a grassy football field.
After the East Field was tested positive for asbestos overload, our lazy-ass school district decided a subpar track and field made in haste would be a good way to waste a million dollars of their limited budget.
I took a deep breath of sweaty air before pushing open the massive door of the gymnasium, which was probably twice my weight (my weight being eight-five pounds) and walked out into the evil world, with the sunshine laughing at me for being so small and filthy and laterite and stupid and sad and basically anorexic and...
I took a breath as I suddenly found myself on the flat, faded maroon track, suddenly realizing that the track really wasn't that big.
How wrong I was when I began running on the track.
The marching band had to be laughing at me. I heard their jokes and felt their stares and I knew that as always they were pointed at me.
I remember when I was younger and there was this boy my age who was always looking at me and putting his hand on my shoulder pretending that it was Isadora at my side and I knew he was trying to kill me just planning and being so creepy...
One day I brought a kitchen knife from home to school and hid it in my backpack. I was terrified that a teacher would find it and lock me up in jail, but I was even more terrified about the kid.
But I didn't have the chance to use it. He was gone that day and it saved his life as well as mine...
But they were all laughing as they played their raucous instruments, the only decent instrument being a single tenor saxophone playing crisp notes louder than the rest.
As I ran past them all, I glanced over at the lone tenor-to see Jack of all people, pale skin turned red, as he strained with effort to not suck.
I appreciated that he didn't notice me making a fool of myself as it took nine-ish minutes for me to run the required mount of miles-plus another one when my chaperone- Macy Sullivan, sports-queen and student-body president, glared at me for running a four minute mile and made me do another lap because of a "miscount."
Bitch.
I pretended I didn't care and just ran once more.
I never thought I would be a runner but I didn't know how therapeutic the track was until I set my feet on it.
My mind went off of all things, even Isadora.
But I still glanced over at Jack, who was watching me interestedly. He looked away when I caught his gaze but I went back inside with a stormy Macy and a stunned gym coach who made me play the world's worst sport.
Basketball.