Please Understand

Chapter 1: Writers Make Incredible Liars

Everything happens for a reason, right?

Wrong.

There was no reason; there couldn't be. My life was depending on this just being an accident because I wouldn't be able to survive if this was her plan. What person would purposely put us through this trauma? I won't be able to face her if I ever see her again, knowing she planned to put me through so much pain. No one was willing to understand or accept this particular matter of fact, but how could we? How could I? She had no reason, but she needed one. No, she needed a million reasons. This wasn't fair to any of the insignificant people she left behind. After all, that's all we were to her: insignificant people.

I know she would look at me, her head would tilt to the side, her brunette hair would sway out of place, and she would tell me, "Well, life's not fair, Mason." There would be a small smile hidden in her blue green eyes while her full lips would remain relaxed in her naturally sad pout.

My hands balled into fists because she took that away from me. She took it all away. All I had were small memories of conversations that didn't last long enough. Of days long left behind that apparently didn't matter to her. I didn't matter to her.

But in all reality, I wasn't mad at her because I could only blame myself because I had driven her away. Even though part of me still wanted to believe this was against her will, I still wondered if she chose to hurt me. She wouldn't do this to me.

Her desk was empty in the front right corner of Mr. Miller's English class, but I still paid more attention to her than our lesson on the Scarlet Letter. The book was seriously boring, and she was always interesting to me even when she didn't want to be. She didn't need to be here to be the center of my attention. Luckily, I wasn't the only one distracted by her sudden absence this week. Next to me, Jessica Larsen kept glancing over at the empty desk and then back to me until I made eye contact. Then, she focused on scribbling her notes, but I caught her glancing at me once again from the corner of her eye.

Everyone occasionally glanced at me, but none of them would say what I know they're thinking. They think I had something to do with this because I was closest to her, but I had no idea. How could I? She was always too smart for me.

Writers make incredible liars.

"Mr. Maxwell," our exasperated teacher sighed as he slammed his hands down against his desk.

How many times had he tried getting my attention before I snapped back to my depressing reality? Now everyone's eyes were on me and Tyler Williams snickered in my direction. What I wouldn't give to break his jaw. "Yes?" I sarcastically replied as I leaned against the back of my chair, listening as it squeaked.

Mr. Miller pinched the bridge of his nose, and then pushed up his old wire glasses. "Would anyone care to enlighten Mason on our discussion?"

Discussion? I thought we were taking notes.

Carrie Bowen's hand shot into the air, and, as usual, he called on the teacher's pet. She turned around to stare at me with that same know-it-all face she loves to wear. "We're discussing the significance of the three scaffold scenes," she repeated. I'm nearly positive she quoted our teacher word for word because she's a robot who can't think for herself. All she does is memorize facts, but when it comes to her opinions on real life she's completely empty as her little dumb, blonde stereotype should be.

Mr. Miller crossed his arms over his chest as he waited for my reply. By the look on his face, I knew he believed I haven't read the required chapters.

I picked up my book just to bend it, so I could feel the pages brush against my thumb the way she always did when she was thinking. This doesn't help. "I think they just used the scaffold to make a mockery of Hester, and to bring more attention to her Scarlet A, and Dimmesdale did the same thing, but he also revealed he sinned with her in the last scaffold scene," I muttered as I set my book down. Yeah, I read the stupid book because she loved it. She read it before we were required to, and read it again just to remember it well enough for the test. Everyday she pestered me to read the chapters and then she would try to explain them to me, and now I was a little lost in the symbolism without her. Maybe I don't understand it as well as she would have, but I still tried at the very least.