You're My Everything

Chapter 8: Graduation

I've been having a serious block. I'm trying here.

Kaitlyn

~_~

I haven't. I was jut on vacation and I have a plethora of new ideas.

Lindsey

*Liz's POV*

*5 months later*

I walk in disgruntled and confused. Naturally. I tucked the lump of blue fabric further in my arms. My white flats plunking softly against the glossy floor. I felt so out of place. Instinctively I cross my arms over my chest and try to cover up as much of myself as possible.

I passed students among the hallways, they were dressed up. Most guys wore nice white shirts and black pants and dark ties-rather old fashioned. Girls rocked dresses in varying colors and types.

I looked down at my feet partially covered by the flats I wore-having refused heels. The light blue fabric of my dress swirled in front of me. Dark curls fell into my face. I swiftly tucked them behind my ear.

My feet swished back and forth ahead of me as I tried so hard to move quickly. But I couldn't seem to get to the cafeteria-where all of us were meeting- fast enough. I was out of my environment-beyond my comfort zone-as I stood here so helpless in a dress. I mean, a dress! How crude, to make me slip around foolishly in this thing.

Eventually, the beige doors that signaled my savior came into view. The cafeteria doors!

I hustled my speed, rushing to safety. My glasses began to slip down the bridge of my nose but I pushed them back up and continued on.

So close now.

I burst through the door out of breath. I nearly lost my footing and fell once inside.

I steadied myself and looked up. Seniors clumped together in the large familiar room. About 10 meters away I could make out a few of my friends. Phia, Vic, Alex, Josie...

Wham!

The wind was knocked out of me and I was practically swept off my feet.

Luckily I was close to the wall and my right hand flew up instantly to break my fall. My hand clenched into a fist against the cold concrete bricks of a wall. I was about to take all of my nervousness and fresh anger out on this person.

I whipped around bringing my tight

fist up ready to punch, though I probably wouldn't.

When I turned around I saw not an offender but a girl-a friend, more or less but I still wanted to hurt her.

"Kate...I...hate....you." I say furiously.

She grins brightly. "Love you too, babe!"

But she misinterpreted my anger for a joke. "No. Kate. You're really dead. Why did you do that!?" I glared at her.

She leaned back surprised. "Um...look, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to, I couldn't really stop." Her hands lifted up and pushed in my direction defensively. "I'm sorry. Really, I am. Please, don't be mad. I didn't mean to."

I dropped my fist roughly, ruffling the sides of my dress, which fell to mid-calf. I grunted.

"Jeesh. What is wrong with you?" She asked when she realized the worst of my steam has blown off. "Is somebody a wittle cwabby?" She coos like a baby while pinching my cheeks.

"Stop it," I hiss smacking her hands away. "No, I was just extremely anxious and nervous and you running into me threw me over my limit. Sorry."

She nods. "Yeah, I'm sorry about, you know, steam plowing you."