The valentine had caught me off guard. He gave me a valentine. I didn't really know him, but he said we had two classes together. I had always thought that I was the invisible one. I couldn't believe that I didn't know him.
The next day, I followed Alyssa around, like I did pretty often. At lunch, I was surprised that she didn't go sit with our friends. Instead, she wandered to the other side of the lunchroom. Wondering what she was doing, I followed behind, wondering what she was doing. She eventually found who she was looking for and tapped on his shoulder.
It was the boy who slipped the valentine into my locker! "Hey," she said softly. "Can I talk to you?"
"Sure" the boy turned around and stood up.
"Someone told me it was you who gave the Valentine to Lily," her tone was uncertain, and the boy looked nervous suddenly.
He blinked and looked down, "Are you mad?" he asked. "I didn't want to upset anyone." He apologized quickly.
Alyssa shook her head, "No," she said. "I'm not mad or upset. I thought it was a beautiful valentine."
His face turned slightly red, "Did you read it?"
Alyssa shook her head again, "I figured it was probably private. But I wanted to tell you that wherever Lily is, I'm sure she would really appreciate it."
"I do," I wanted to tell them both. I still couldn't believe that he had cared enough to write me that valentine.
"I always visit her grave on Fridays," Alyssa said. "Do you want to come with me?" she offered. "Maybe you can put her valentine there."
"Okay," he said.
"I'll wait for you out front after school is over."
"Alright, thanks," the boy said, actually sounding thankful.
Alyssa hesitated, about to walk away, but instead, she turned and hugged him, "Thank you for writing it." Then she walked away. I just kind of watched the boy sit down with his friends once again.
After a moment all of his friends started laughing and commenting on the exchange between him and Alyssa.
"You gave a valentine to the dead girl?"
"You're in love with a suicidal freak?"
"Man, you are so desperate."
YOU ARE READING
After Suicide
Short StoryWaking up after dying is the strangest feeling. I knew I had succeeded, the overdose was enough and no one was home to stop me or to realize what I had done until it was too late. But this morning, I opened my eyes, right before my alarm went off...
