The Innocent Can Never Last

Faded

Emma's POV

Cruel jokes and taunting laughter followed us down the hallway from the moment we stepped through the double doors of the huge building where we went to High School. "Hey, look, guys, the freak suicide maniac decided to come back!" shouted Teddy Crawford, a football player jock, throwing a wad of paper at my best friend, Billie Joe, who was standing in between me and our other best friend, Mike, looking like he'd rather be anywhere than here.

"Just keep walking," Mike whispered to Billie. "Keep walking and you'll be fine."

Billie Joe nodded and kept walking, keeping his eyes lowered to the floor, hugging his books to his chest. Paper airplanes and spit wads zoomed past our heads, nearly missing us every time, and I could feel Billie Joe start to shake, as people began chanting something about 'Billie Joe, forgot to take his Prosac, and ended up taking a knife to his wrists instead.'

"Ignore it, Billie, ignore it. I know it's hard, but ignore it," I muttered, glaring at several people as I walked by.

They immediately stopped laughing at Billie, quailing under my fierce gaze. I was known too well as the bitch that could punch your lights out and land you a bed in the hospital in the blink of an eye for them to want to cross me. I had been suspended for fighting before, and I wasn't afraid to do it again if the occasion called for it.

Finally, after what seemed like hours, the three of us reached our lockers, and we all stopped to unpack our bookbags, with Billie standing closer to me than he usually would have. "Emma," Billie muttered, several minutes later. "I don't think I can do this. I wanna go home."

I turned to Billie and put my hands on his shoulders. "You'll be fine, bud, just hang tough and keep close to me or Mike and we won't let anything happen to you," I said, and Billie nodded weakly.

I noticed that his eyelids were fluttering a bit, so I said, "You're not gonna pass out on me, are you?"

"I'm gonna try not to," Billie answered.

I smiled, and shoved my bookbag into my locker, before quickly slamming it shut. Mike appeared at my shoulder and said, "Are you guys ready?"

Billie and I both nodded in agreement, so the three of us turned and headed towards homeroom. Upon reaching the classroom, we took our usual seats in the back of the room, and waited for the bell to ring. Several people gave Billie strange or mocking looks as they came in and sat down, but nobody said anything, and after several minutes of wondering if Billie would have a swooning fit right there in the classroom, the bell rang, and Mrs. Welsh, our homeroom teacher, entered the room. She began peering around the room, as if she was mentally checking attendance, and when her eyes fell on Billie, her hand flew to her heart, and a startled look crossed her face. "Oh, Mr. Armstrong!" she exclaimed. "I didn't realize you were coming back today! I hope you're feeling better?"

'Funny,' I thought, as I watched Billie shrug and nod wordlessly. 'How she can act like it was an illness that kept him away from school for the past two weeks.' I rolled my eyes, and then thought, 'What else are you supposed to say though? "Oh, hi, Billie Joe, I hope your wrists are all healed up! It must have hurt when you cut them open, huh? Ouch!" '

'No, that wouldn't do,' I thought, as I watched Mrs. Welsh smile and say, "Well, it's good to have you back."

And that's pretty much how our day went. Paper was thrown at us in the hallway, and fake sympathy from the teachers was hurled at Billie in the classrooms. Only one teacher really acted sincere toward Billie that day, and that was Ms. Carter, our English teacher. She grinned sweetly at Billie when we entered her classroom and said, "Hi, Billie, I'm glad to see you're back on your feet."