Finding the Pure Note

Might Be Tipping Over A Waterfall

Pulling into the carpark at school, I turn to Kaylee to offer her a kiss, but her door is already thrown open and she exits rather too quickly for my liking. I hit my head as I try and clamber out, swear, rub at it as my eyes flash with tiny stars, and I cry out.

"Hey Kayls, see you later?"

I expected something stinging, her familiar one-word grunts that make me feel oh so special. The cold shoulder. Harsh. She catches my look of despair and I can see a brief rolling of the eyes, her phone already surgically attached to her ear. As she trots off, trailing dust and stones, I can feel Hunter smirking, the sheer act of it burning into the back of my neck. I roll my head, meeting Hunter's smug face.

"Nice."

Hunter chucks his bag over his shoulder and bolts from my car, cause god forbid his friends knew he was related to a loser like me.

"Thanks for the lift, Clay!" I call after him, feeling just about ready to pick up a large stone and piff it at him.

"Yeah sure."

I don't even bother to react that time, and instead lock the door and trudge off, feeling somehow achingly alone. Hunter being a dick is par for the course. But it's like... this is my morning. Hiding my bloody girlfriend from my family, being a hypocrite in front of my brother... fingers itching at the cigarette carton, but I feel like something stronger. I feel like very little matters and nothing can fucking fix that.

I'm all angst today.

*****

Scrolling through my phone, I get frustrated with all the texts. 'How sick was last night, bro?' Four variations of that. Then another six invites to events I had zero interest in. Kaylee's last text was lacking in the emotion department. I don't know, but isn't your girlfriend supposed to, oh I don't know, send you loving texts! It's all just so... Blurgh!

Sorry, let me call it what it really is: horseshit. I don't need this. If... If I can summon the strength each day to do my best, to make dad proud, I should be strong enough to stand up for myself. To make at least some choices of my own. I pause when I reach the locker bay. The usual crew stands in a circle, Sean's irritating cackling cutting right through me, and I wince. I stop before I take another step. This feels... wrong. Dirty... Dishonest. It always has been, but now it's like I'm standing on the opposite side of the glass. There's no foggy layer deceiving my brain. This is the shit I've walked into.

So let's make the first bold choice, Clay. Seeya, guys.

Okay. Where do I go? What do I need? I need... I need...

I need my old friends, dammit. Fuck what Kaylee thinks. I'm not happy giving them the cold shoulder. I'm not her. I shouldn't try to be her. What I should want is my own happiness, the kind of happiness that's not surface level. Fletcher and Chelsea. I can smile with them and know proper and absolute love. I need to be with them, to smile again.

If they'll take me.

Best friends... And I... Shit, what kind of friend have I been? What, am I just gonna walk up and act like everything's fine, like it's an easy fix? Oh hey guys, sorry I've been avoiding you the past six and a half months. Sorry I've been ignoring your calls, your texts... Emails. Yeah, they got desperate. They're good friends. I don't deserve them. They're gonna tell me to piss off. Or worse. I deserve that.

I keep my eyes to the ground as I make for the main locker area, pausing before the entrance. This is... it. I'm gonna do this. I'm really, absolutely, one-hundred and fifty—Yeah, enough stalling.

Damn, the old locker bay. And there it is: my old locker, tucked in the corner by the food tech door. Now some stranger had claimed it, claimed what was once a bridge between Fletcher and me, and that was just plain wrong. An injustice to be corrected.