The Boy With The Motorcycle

0.8

September 8th, 2015

The day after Labor Day

The first day of school

I zip down the halls, excitedly flicking my eyes back and forth, behind and in front looking for Patrick . I am starting school with a friend. A cool friend. Maybe even a boyfriend? Don't get ahead of yourself, Tess. Maybe his friends will treat me like I am more than air. Maybe I will become friends with them. That would be amazing. I have never been excited for school...ever. I hate school, but now I will have someone, possibly a group of someones. It will be awesome! This year maybe I will enjoy getting up early in the morning for school. Maybe.

Then I see him. I run towards him, the other people becoming nonexistent, blurry even. "Patrick !" I yell at him as I come down the halls. He is talking to a group of five people. Two girls, and three boys. All of them I recognize, as the people that made my high school life miserable the year before.

"Patrick ?" Maybe he doesn't hear me. He glances my direction, then looks back to his friends. One of the boys, Connor turns to him.

"Why is she saying your name, dude?" Patrick looks to me again, opening his mouth to speak, closing it, and reopening it.

"I don't know, must be another Patrick ." he responds, his lips pursed together. I stop running towards him. My mind catches up with my tears as the words sink in. He didn't change. Around me alone he can be the real Patrick . But around everyone else, he will always be the Patrick that doesn't talk to me. The Patrick that treats me like I'm invisible.

I walk quickly down the hallway, my eyes on my feet. "I thought we were friends again." I mumble, vapidity dripping from my voice. He glances after me when I look over my shoulder at him, his eyes twinkle with guilt, and gives me a sad look. That doesn't make it okay. I thought Patrick was different. I thought he could change for me. I wasn't asking him to do it overnight, he had the whole summer. But that doesn't matter. Because he couldn't change in two months. And since I am now invisible, I will never acknowledge him again. I don't ever want to hear from the boy with the motorcycle.