Squish's Storybook

Spring Fling

My heart pounds as I open the door, my flowered dress ruffled by the breeze and my skin chilled by the early winter air. I tuck my hands into my jacket pockets and shuffle my way out to the sidewalk, making little imprints in the half inch of fresh snow.

Today is the day, I thought to myself. I'll do it today, this time for real. I'm not going to be too scared this time.

I walk for several minutes, getting myself ready for what was happening soon. I couldn't hesitate. If I hesitate it's all over. I can do this.

Within a few more minutes I see the doors of the high school and bring my fingers up to the handle. I pull it open, shifting snow out of the way, and see several groups of people already inside.

Nobody was supposed to be here yet. I left early enough, didn't I?

I tuck my hands into my pockets again and walk past the other students, some of their eyes following me as I walk, others not even acknowledging my existence, but then I see him. I freeze up.

He was standing with a bunch of his other friends, most of which I knew thought I was a total weirdo. I shake my head and ignore the glance I got from other classmates and some of the upperclassmen. I approach him warily, keeping my eyes on the floor, but glancing up at the little group as I walked.

My dress swayed and bobbed as I walked, my red, curled hair I had spent 30 minutes perfecting bouncing on my shoulders. My fingers tangled into my dress and my heart was pounding even harder than before.

"What do you want, freshman," one of the junior girls asked, making it a point she didn't want me there.

"I-I wanted to talk to Lucas," I say, my voice low as I glanced between all of their faces. I never thought somebody who was only a couple years older could be so threatening.

"Why would you want to do that," asked one of the other guys. At this point I could feel so many eyes on me, I just wanted to run and hide from them all.

"Well, um-" I try my hardest to explain what I was trying to say to them, but Lucas speaks up.

"Would you all just quit bothering this girl?"

This girl? Doesn't he remember me? Oh, right, it was a whole year since he started ignoring me, it's been a year since my depression suddenly went away, it must be that easy to forget somebody as little as me. Great, now he'll think I've been stalking him or something.

"Now, if you all don't mind, I'd like to talk to her myself since you all are being so rude," he looks to his friends as he speaks, and soon enough they all disperse and begin speaking with other groups, but I knew they were still watching me. "Now what is it that you were wanting to talk to me about? And if you don't mind telling me your name"

"Well, I..." Come on. Just do it, now's your chance! Don't chicken out again. That's what happened last time. "I'm Grace, and I was wondering if you would go to the spring fling with me." I spoke so softly I was worried he wouldn't hear me, but I couldn't bring myself to say anything any louder.

"Oh," he says. He doesn't respond for a few moments, but runs a hand through his messy hair. "I don't know. I don't really know you. I just don't think I can."

"But you do know me," I blurt out, but quickly shut my mouth before I can say anything else.

"What do you mean I know you? I've never even seen you before!" He rose his voice and I saw him getting a tiny bit angry.

"It's me, Grace McCain, don't you remember me?" His face relaxes for a moment, but his look of anger is soon replaced by a look of utter shock.

"No, this isn't happening. What kind of sick joke is this? My Grace died a year ago! You sick fuck! What is wrong with you?" He was practically yelling and steps back for a moment, examining my face. 

"What do you mean? I'm not dead. I'm fine," I had tears in my eyes, welling to escape.

"Would you quit it?! You aren't my Grace, my Grace committed suicide last year, now would you just leave me alone?" He screams and I can't help it anymore, the tears in my eyes stream down my cheeks and I break into awful sobs.

"Lukey, why are you saying such awful things," I say through my sobs. "Why don't you just recognize me?"

"Don't you dare call me that. Only Grace could call me that. My Grace didn't have curly hair. She didn't have such dull eyes. They were as dark blue as the night sky. You are not my Grace, now get away from me before I start throwing punches." He was fuming, his fists clenched so tight he was snow white at the knuckles.

I run to the bathroom, tears in my eyes. I look at myself in the mirror.

My eyes were nearly white, my hair was still slightly curly, but had went back to its usual frizz.

"I'm not beautiful."

***

Later that night I got on the computer and typed with shaking fingers "Grace McCain Obituary".

Search

I clicked on one of them and I saw a picture of me, one year ago. It had the date printed under 'Time of Death'. 

My red hair was straight down my shoulders, my eyes dark.

I am dead.

I guess I never really got better.

I guess I'll never be beautiful.