Fade (On Hold)

Chapter Two:

Jason

     Where was she? I stared at the seat beside me, the seat that the unfamiliar face had appeared in that one day, the same seat that had remained unoccupied for the past week.

     Just as the bell rings, she appears in the classroom doorway, muttering an apology to the calculus teacher before quickly studying back to the desk beside me.

     He posture sagged, and her skin looked...almost yellow. Face still emotionless, she shot me an irritated glance, catching me staring.

     "What?" She snapped, green eyes shooting daggers at me.

     "What happened to you?" I smirked, finding her irritation amusing.

     She dropped her eyes down to her hands and shook her head, causing her dark hair to fall in front of her eyes. She  impatiently pushed it back behind her ear. "I'm fine," she finally sighed.

     "Obviously not," I retorted, which earned me a flat stare.

     "It's none of your concern," she shrugged, and I scoffed.

     "Sweetheart, if that was the case, I wouldn't be asking."

     Her eyes snap up to mine, suspicion etched all over her features. "Why are you asking?" She inquired, then backtracked. "Why are you even talking to me? Word around here says you don't give a crap about anyone, let alone talk to anybody."

     I smirk. "Someone's been talking about me, I'm flattered."

     She shrugs, her emotions unreadable once again. "Or you're just one of the topics of interest that people talk about," she replies with an eye roll.

     "Why's that?"

     "Because you're an a—"

     She's interrupted by Mr. Longe, our teacher, who's glaring at her with an annoyed expression.

     "Sorry," she sighs, shutting up.

     Notes are passed back, and Mr. Longe hands her the work that she missed during her mysterious absence.

     As class inches on, I sneak quick glances at her, picking up on small facts about her. Her name is Jordan, and she's a whiz at math, quick to complete problems, her work nearly provided under each problem.

     She didn't rush to pack up, even minutes before the bell, but instead kept carefully working on the notes and homework that she missed.

     When the bell sounded, everyone bolted out of the class, except for her; she was calmly slipping her papers in her bag.

     "Waiting for someone?" She frowned, looking up at me, grabbing her things.

     "You, believe it or not," I answered sarcastically, walking out with her.

     She pursed her lips before raising an eyebrow. "Careful there, I don't want you to wreck your reputation by talking to me."

     I opened my mouth to respond, but her attention had been captured by someone else behind me.

     I watched as a smile transformed her usually moody face, her eyes sparkling as she jogged up to a guy behind me.

     "Baxter!" She let out a tinkling laugh that caught me off guard, and I watched as she was lifted into the air for a hug.

     "Jordan," he grinned down at her, setting her back onto her feet. "How are you feeling? How did chemo go on Friday?" 

     Chemo. Chemo? As in...chemotherapy? I narrowed my eyes at the small girl before spinning on my heel, shoving someone out of my way as I sprinted down the stairs, my mind going into hyperdrive.

     Why was I so interested? Why had this one girl, who I've barely had two conversations with, intrigue me so much? Why did I even have a conversation with her? Why was it so hard for me to keep my out shut around her, but so easy for me to block out everyone else in this school?

     I raked my fingers through my hair, frustrated with myself as I pushed through the main doors in the front of the school, walking out.

     Another day of suspension, here I come, I sighed to myself as I tore out of the parking lot. It honestly didn't matter. Skipping was a routine for me, and one day of suspension wouldn't hurt anybody.

     I drove, no destination in mind, Blackbear blaring from my stereo as the empty feeling returned to my stomach.

     I had to get her out of my brain. Chemotherapy meant cancer. I'd already lost someone to cancer.

     And immediately, images of Emery's sweet face flooded my head, and my vision blurred from the tears that we're building up in my eyes. I pulled over, my head falling on the steering wheel, tears escaping as I choked back a sob. Sobs about loss. Sobs of anger directed to the doctors who couldn't save her. Those sweet eyes.

At age seven, my little sister, Emery, an innocent, beautiful little girl, died from cancer.

☄💫☄💫☄💫☄💫☄💫☄💫☄

"Jason!" The small child bounded up to me, and I let out a chuckle, easily scooping up Andrew and throwing him over my shoulder. His giggles and shrieks drew attention from the other kids, who watched with smiles, some running up, tugging on my t-shirt, begging for a turn.

The after school program was unusually busy; not that I minded. The kids were great, excited to tell me all about their day at school, or asking to to help with their homework, little girls wanting me to play dress up.

"Um...that's my brother you're manhandling."

I spun around to come face to face with Jordan, a ghost of a smile playing on her lips.

"No way," I scoffed. "This little dude isn't your brother."

"Well; technically speaking, yes he is," Jordan shrugged, brushing her hair out of her eyes before reaching up to grasp Andrew.

"Do you know her?" I asked Drew, who happily nodded in confirmation.

"My mommy and daddy buyed her," he explained.

I glanced at Jordan, who seemed unfazed by his outburst. "So can I have him?" She asked impatiently.

I handed the four year old over to Jordan, who shifted him to her hip, smirking. "So the bad boy volunteers with the after school program," she mused. "That's interesting."

I met her cold eyes with my own twisted smile. "Yeah," I admitted. "The kids are pretty cute, but not as cute as their 'bought' siblings."

Her smirk faltered, so her face fell back into an emotionless slate, her eyes still hard. I felt her disconnect, and she spun away, spitting out a brief statement before storming out: "It's called adoption, and keep your damn eyes to yourself."