The Green Eyed Monster

Ch. 36

It feels like when I walk into school, the whole place goes quiet. It could just be that all the noises outside; the traffic, the kids milling to get in, the parents chatting in the parking lot, were buzzing in the back of my head, and it's just their absence I'm hearing, muted by the thick walls of the halls. Or it could be that I entered in a less than composed manner, and most kids know by now to stay out of my way. Either way, it still feels like everyone's eyes are on me as I trudge to my locker, fingers twisting over the black strap of my bag, picking at the clasp, tugging at the threads. I don't care about their stares, I don't care how they look at me, but it makes me so aware that Cat's not here... that Beck's not here.

I've always had someone beside me, someone to buffer the stares, to challenge them and say, this person likes me, so fuck you. I feel like an outcast now, fittingly. My clothes still feel as ill-fitting as before, even though I dragged myself into the shower when I got home and picked out something nice to wear, something... plain. Just jeans and a black hoodie. I had to get the reek of Beck's RV off me. The smell of Cat was still in my sheets, her lipgloss still on my bedside table. I shoved it into my jeans pocket before I left. At least it's a reminder.

I hover my hand over it when I reach my locker, feeling the hard cylinder in my pocket. I'm not prepared to face Cat, I don't know what to say, what to do, how to explain. I'm hoping that it'll come to me when I do see her. If she's even here. I let out a heavy sigh and twist the combination to my locker, door clicking open, warped reflections of me sliced by my scissors as I yank the metal door open. My back's crawling, like a dozen hands are sweeping over it, raising goosebumps. It's like a hundred other days, and I half expect Cat to just come bouncing up, bag swinging and dimples pitted in her cheeks from a grin. These halls are saturated with her, and they don't seem so bright anymore, like all the life that used to be here at Hollywood Arts is less vibrant, less noticeable. This comedy has become a tragedy, the acts an irritation. I just want the curtain to close on this already. It's been playing far too long.

I thumb through the pile of books in there, finding the ones I need. A picture of me and Beck catches my eye, stuck up on the inside of my door. We look happy. I'm holding onto Beck's arm, a half-smile on my face. Beck's eyes are closed, his head thrown back like he's laughing about something, an arm draped over me. I tear it down, shoving it inside the locker. That's not who we are anymore. We don't belong to each other.

I slam the locker door shut, metal scissors rattling against the grey-painted steel. I turn away, scanning the crowd, hoping to see a flash of vibrant red hair, bobbing among the students. My heart leaps a little when I see Tori, fingers tightening on the textbooks wedged under an arm. If Cat was with anyone, it'd be her. Tori glances around, bag slung over her shoulder, her eyes skittering away from mine and then snapping back. They're cold, dismissive, and I've never seen Tori without that warmth in her eyes, without that honey. I've never seen her angry before, not like this. She's fiery, but she flames out. This is a simmer, one that's been boiling for a long time. For a second she stops, sways like she's unsure whether to ignore me and keep walking, or come over. As usual, Tori's mouth gets the best of her. I touch my pocket reassuringly; I can deal with Tori for this, she's my only link with Cat right now, the only one who's seen her since... since I broke her heart, scattered the pieces over the rain-spattered pavement and watched her walk away. I think about that moment, when I watched her go. Maybe if I'd gone after her, grabbed her arm, twisted her around and just told her, just kissed her, just showed her what my words failed to, maybe that would've made a difference. Maybe if I'd never kissed her at all, things would be better. Everyone would be happier.

"Why are you here?" Tori's eyes are guarded, voice low and terse, fingers plucking at the hem of her grey shirt, black vest hanging from her slightly slumped shoulders. She's holding them together, trying to gather this rage to spit out at me. It almost feels good to taste her venom.