Letters to Juliet

Dear Juliet.

Dear Juliet.

    Today went by in a blur. All I could think about was your last words to me. 

    "I've wanted to do that at least once since I met you in 9th grade."

   The words kept swirling around in my head. I can't believe you said them. I think I might have hallucinated them, but I would never have imagined something so amazing.

    That day I saw you twice. You were with your boyfriend, Brandon Thomas. Both times you made eye contact with me, but you blushed and looked away. That made me smile a lot. I was smiling all day. Well, almost.

   During English, you answered every question perfectly and did everything the teacher asked you to without looking at me once, though you had many opportunities. That hurt a little.  I kept wondering all day; Did you regret what you said this morning? Was it Brandon? Had he found out? Suddenly I felt terrible. Like this was all my fault. And something bad might happen.

    After class I walked up to you, intending to apologize. I wasn't sure for what yet, But before I could even say anything, Brandon shoved past me, knocking me against the wall. He curled his arm around your shoulders protectively. "What do you want, freak?" He asked with a smirk. 

    "Just..." I mumble. If I say I want to talk to you, you'll be humiliated, and you'll never talk to me again. "Nothing." I say, and turn to walk away, noting the neutral face you wore. He treats you like crap, but you stay with him anyway. It's what's expected of you; the head of the chearleading squad and football captain. Sometimes, though, I wish you'd do the unexpeccted once in a while.

    I sigh and walk out of English and over to my locker. I try to focus on my Geometry quiz next period as I shove books into my locker, but my mind keeps circling back to you. You deserve better. I might not be the better option, but there are plenty of people who are. 

    I pull out my math book and slam my locker, spinning the dial on my lock to zero. I'm such a neat freak. But so are you. Ugh.

   I walk into math class and sit in my desk, pouting. I feel glum the whole period, and not even the prospect of lunch is enough to cheer me up.

    I get my lunch and sit at my normal table, alone. Nobody wants to sit with the freak. I may have long-ish black hair and pale skin, but I have vibrant blue eyes. I'm not that much of a freak. I hope.

    I stare down at my plate, slowly chewing my food when I hear a girl clear her throat. I look up and see you, standing there looking akward and embarassed. And beautiful.

     "Can I talk to you?" You ask, looking down at your feet. I'm tempted to say yes, but I look over your shoulder and see your friends laughing, all except Brandon. He looks mad. Really mad. At me, but also you. I can't let you get in trouble, even if  I want to talk to you more than anything so I can finally tell you how I feel. 

    But I can't take that risk. Not if it means something bad happens to you or your reputation. I'm not stupid. I know the effect that being seen talking to me could have on you. So I have to hurt you to save you. 

    I shake my head. "No. You can't just ignore me all day and just decide to talk to me. You can't expect me to come at your call. This might be hard to believe, Bethany, but not everybody loves you. Not every guy drools over you. Certainly not me." I stand up and grab my tray, heading towards the trash can. 

    "Enjoy the rest of your day, Princess." I call over my shoulder. Then I walk out of the cafeteria.

   The image of your crestfallen face is burned into my brain, and it breaks my heart. But I had to do this. I did it for you.