The Story So Far

34. A Broken Oath

I slammed a hand on my alarm clock, making it fall on the ground. I sighed, rolling out of bed and heading to take a shower. I looked at the mirror, cursing myself for crying myself to sleep. I gave my cheeks a slap before applying a light shade of make-up. I was swiping a generous amount of lip gloss when I noticed the silver ring that glimmered in the reflection. I choked at the sight of the ring, feeling a lump in my throat rise up again, tears welling up on the brim of my eyes.

“God, you’re so stupid,” I yelled at myself. Dabbing Kleenex under my eyes as to not ruin my make up, “look, it’s not just Travis you’ve lost. Since you kissed Dmitri, even Amy’s mad at you.” I looked at myself in shock at what had just come out of my mouth, “Oh, Lord.” Amy. I pressed a hand to my throbbing head, looking back at the reflection in the mirror.

Go apologise, Allyson.

I’d do that, if she isn’t going to avoid me. I groaned, pulling on my Dock Martens and sliding my messenger bag up my shoulders. Bouncing down stairs, I took a toast from my plate and shouted that I’d be heading out to school.

A few moments later, I was pushing the glass double doors of the school. But instead of having Travis greet with me a good morning and a smile, there was just a crowd of worn out high school kids with nothing else better to do than be lazy.

I squeezed myself past the crowd, turning a corner to my locker and turning on the codes. A strawberry blonde bobbed next to me as I pulled out my Chemistry book, letting her shut my locker for me. I looked up at Brittaney, her face lit up with a half hearted smile, “Hi, Allie.”

“I didn’t think that all of you would get back to school, as well,” I stated, walking the both of us to our first class.

She shrugged, “Everything started to fall apart when you left. Travis’s mom was really mad.”

I bit my lower lip, letting the scene replay in my head. I let my hands skim my cheek where Mrs. Bayarrd had hit it, “It was all my fault.”

Brittaney waved her hands as if to wave the conversation off. She set her bag down and sat down, leaving me to do the same. She lifted her head up as another blonde entered the room, her face was guarded, her expression hard. Her sky high heels click clacked as she sauntered over to the farthest seat from Brittaney and me.

I looked over at Brittaney, her face fallen, “Is she mad at me, too?”

“When she knew what happened, yes,” Britt explained, her eyes soft, “but after a few hours—before we left—I could tell she’s more sad than angry.”

I nodded, “Did she say why?”

Brittaney sighed, running a hand through her hair and pointing her ball point pen at the teacher, “Let’s talk about this at lunch.”

I looked back at the teacher, opening my binder and doodling on the pages. I glanced at Brittaney, her hair covered up most of her face but her eyes didn’t fail to show her emotions. She was mad, sad, and guilty. Guilt? Why would she be guilty?

I shook the thought away, doodling at my notebook, waiting for the class to end. I had not looked forward to lunch this eager in my entire life, and now I am.

I watched Britt fill up her tray and grab an orange juice, smiling at the surprised cashier with her choice of food. I followed her as she walked over to our usual table, which now consisted of just me and her.

I took the brown paper bag from my messenger bag, unfolding the napkin of the peanut butter jelly sandwich my mom had packed for me, “Where does Amy sit now?”