Stitches

Seventeenth Stitch

seventeenth || Perci

I cock my head to the side, an eyebrow raised in confusion.

"Speaking of," Elias says, picking up Chris's discarded water bottle. "I'd better give this back to him. Stupid boy's always leaving his stuff when he's rushing off to his petty girlfriend." I could hear a slight hint of disgust when he pronounced the word girlfriend.

It took me a minute to register what he said. Simon picks this up faster than me though. His lips form a small O when realization hits him, a look of amusement on his face.

Elias, heartthrob of Quentin, just came out of the closet. To us. And he was hopelessly lovelorned with Chris of all people. Oh how I wish we still had the recorder running.

I give him a small smile. "Thank you. We appreciate it," I say, thankful for both the interview and his sincerity.

"Sure. Just don't tell, 'kay? Bad for the image you know." Elias says with a small wink, and walks away.

"What the actual fuck?" Simon says, when he's out of earshot.

"I know," I laugh. "Too bad though, he was hot." Ariadne, Angie and I used to fangirl all over him during sports meets.

For some reason, Simon frowns at this. "Why is it always a major turn on if a guy plays basketball? I don't get it."

"It's not!" I defend, but to be honest I don't get it either. Me and my friends just fangirl over cute guys the moment we see them, because it's normal for a teenage girl to appreciate good looks, right? But we're subtle, we never do it very vigorously like Normal Girls, who scream and kick and would instantly die for a selfie together. Major ew.

Why do Normal Girls even do that anyway? I totally don't get it.

"Well, not always," I apprehend. "I mean Normal Girls treat it as a turn on when a guy has talent, you know?"

"Normal girls?" Simon asks.

I nod. "Yeah."

Ariadne invented that term. My squad uses it frequently. When we say "Normal Girls" we refer to the typical chics who ogle over celebrity magazines, prefer anorexia over food, glue their eyes to TV shows about love triangles, strive to get a boyfriend, and love the color pink.

The three of us promised to never be that type of girl. I could almost hear Aria's voice in my head. "If any of you turn into that type of girl," Ariadne had said. "I'll shoot you in the heads."

"If I turn into one of those girls," Angie replied, "I'll hand you the gun."

For a moment, I was absolutely ecstatic to tell them what I'd just found out. But suddenly realization hits me: we didn't talk anymore. My excitement drains out.

I feel a slight ache in my chest.

"Hey," Simon says, worry etched on his face, "you okay?"

"Fine," I say, and shake the thought out of my head.

We walk to the Newsroom in silence. Eddie has cooled off when we get there, he was even pleased and told us that these interviews were better than the last ones. He told us to be more careful with the stuff in the Newsroom next time, and that was that.

Simon and I both had Physics, so we walk there together.

"You were right. It was my tragicomedy," I say, breaking the silence.

Simon raises an eyebrow at me, "Huh?"

"That Stitch I showed you," I say. "That was my tragicomedy."

He nods. "Thought so. You wanna talk about it?"

I shook my head. "If anything, I want to forget it."

He smiles. "It's fine. Stuff happens. You'll get over it."

I hoped and prayed with all my heart that he was right.

xXx

The Middle

When Grandma died and we moved to this town, I was the newbie in Quentin High. Every struggle that Michael had, I had it too. The only difference, however, was I had to go through it alone.

Multiple times I was dubbed a snob, but in reality I just found it hard talking to people. I found my way to art, and I was good. Too good, in fact, that people would call me try-hard and conceited. Lunch was the worst. So many people, so much noise, and yet, I was alone, and I was silent. How that was even possible, I don't think I'll ever understand.

I was still mourning over the loss of my Grandma. High School life shocked me, it was like I was being forced to grow up. I was really considering asking my parents to move us back to the city with my aunt. I missed my old school and I missed my old friends. But I knew that wasn't happening, and I couldn't leave Luke.

But one day, the heavens smiled upon me. Ariadne and Angie came crashing to my usual table in the cafeteria, liked they owned the place. "It's okay, we hate everybody here too," Ariadne had said. And in an instant, we were friends.

Ariadne and Angie were my anchors. People that kept me afloat, people that kept me from drowning in my misery. They were heaven-sent. I made friends, I got good grades, and all the rumors that sprung out about me dispersed and were replaced by good vibes.

I'm okay now.

I guess that's why, when Michael came, I had a soft spot for the guy.

At some point, Alex came to me one day, squealing. She told me about Michael the newbie—recently that's all she ever talked to me about. She told that they had hung out—they had went to the park, along with a few friends of hers from dance troupe. It was raining, and she and Michael were the last to go home. They were talking and laughing in the rain as they walked to a bus stop. Michael never left her, because according to him, she was a lady, and it was bad manners to leave her until he was sure that she was safe, especially in that weather. According to her it was "absolutely the most sweetest thing any guy has ever done" for her.

As Alex talked, I could imagine them then, walking through the wet city streets, raindrops falling all around them as they kept each other company. I think this is where your description would fit, Simon. This would be the perfect scene where sparks would fly and the world will shake and the birds will sing and Taylor Swift will be playing in the background.

I remember teasing Alex about that. I remember telling her that this could be the start of something new, High School Musical style. I remember her laughing it off and telling me I was being ridiculous.

Oh, Alex. How little did you know.

Sooner or later, they became bestfriends. It had made me happy, because I thought, now Michael had Alex, same way as I have Angie and Ariadne. Alex would be his anchor. Alex would be home.

I remember being happy for them.

I guess, in a way, even after everything that happened, I think still am.

Everything was perfect for a while. Everyone won, every day was good.

Good days never last.

I have no idea when his feelings started, but Michael liked me, in a "maybe-more-than-friends" way (His exact words.) He told me this one day when we were painting. He just randomly blurted it out while I was telling him about a movie I watched. The room went pin-drop silent. He kept running his hands through his hair and rubbing his neck, but mostly, he was just waiting for me to respond.

In that moment, all I remember is Alex, sweet loving Alex, all happy and giddy. What would she say if she found this out? I could never take Michael away from her—she would be heartbroken. And the worst part was I know she'd let me, because she was freakin' Alex, and she was kind and giving and caring and all that sugar that would make a perfect Disney princess.

And then I remember Michael, and all of the times we were together, and all of the moments we had that I've always considered strictly platonic. Did he like me even back then? Was he only hanging out with me just because he intended to flirt? All this time, while I saw him as a friend, he saw me as a different way. Were all of our memories a lie?

I panicked and turned him down on the spot.

He laughed it off and told me it was okay. He told me, still friends right? and I agreed, relieved. But I couldn't deny seeing the look of hurt on his face that he tried to hide from me.

And I couldn't deny the putrid guilt lodged in my throat.