Year 12 (First Draft)

-Chapter 3-

  NEWS: YEAR MOVEMENT DWINDLING--- KANE PORTER BEING HELD IN MAIN GOVERNMENT CELLS- YEAR MOVEMENT DWINDLING---

  I put down my LR-5, remembering my dream from last night. It has haunted me all morning, and no matter what I try to preoccupy myself with, it doesn't go away. Nothing can erase Kane's plea. Save me Felisha.

  "I hope I'm not interrupting anything," Mrs. Porter says, walking into the office. I've been sitting in here since I woke up this morning, just thinking, hoping. Mrs. Porter steps up to the desk, and sends me a weary smile. "How are you holding up, my dear?" She asks, her voice unusually reserved.

  "As well as can be expected," I admit, and in turn ask her the same. Her answer isn't all that different than my own, but I can hear the pain in her voice, and I am able to see the worry in her eyes.

  She turns away for a brief moment, then turns back, biting her lip. "I know," She says, "About you and Kane."

  "Forgive me for being slightly confused, but I'm not sure what you're talking about," I say, not sure what she means, noting the hint of unease in her voice.

  "You two aren't really dating," She says matter-of-factly. She crosses her arms over chest, her expression changing to that of disappointment. My heart stops in my chest, and I gulp back my retort. She's right, and I know she knows that. Has she known this whole time? If so, our whole scam was frivolous, and slightly embarrassing.

  "How long have you known?" I ask, my cheeks flaming.

  "A couple of days. I started to notice that things seemed off, and I asked Andrea. She confirmed my suspicions." Mrs. Porter says simply.

  "I'm sorry," I start, feeling tears threaten to blur my vision. "I wanted to tell you, but then I saw how happy you were. I couldn't do it. I couldn't drop the charade."

  "Is it still a charade?" Mrs. Porter asks, and with that, she walks out, her heels clicking down the linoleum hall.

  Every time I think I have everything figured out, a curve ball gets thrown my way. Mrs. Porter's question is my curve ball.

  As much as I don't want to consider the possibility that she could be right, I know that I need to. I can't wallow in all this grief, and ignore my heart. Andrea does that, I think to myself. She ignores her heart, hoping that by doing so she'll feel better. 'Is it still a charade?'

  I don't have a great answer. Something has been going on between Kane and I, but I am still unsure in what way. That moment in my room, when I had stared into his eyes, or the way he was willing to drop his plans to go with me to the hospital. Or, even the kiss yesterday. The press of his lips against my own. What does it all mean? Does it mean anything at all? My heart beats rapidly in my chest, and I take a seat in Kane's desk chair. I don't want anything to be different between us.

  I think back to how I felt when Kane and I had been sitting in my room, and I had caught him staring at me. I think back to when he had shed tears when it came time for me to go to the hospital, alone, relying on only a UCP. I think back to yesterday, Kane's arms wrapped around my waist, his lips moving across my own. I had felt content, happy, and cared for. Never had there been a negative thought or feeling aside from my own worry.

  Maybe, in some small way, Mrs. Porter is right.

  "Have you seen the News?" Andrea asks, accusingly as I walk into the dining hall. Her arms are crossed over her chest, her head tilted inquiringly.