Disconnected

Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Now I'm just tired. I've been avoiding Jordan all week and the weight on my chest has barely lifted. I lie down on my roof, pulling up my hood. I look up at the sky to see the stars and see nothing, just clouds.

"Why me?" a voice in my head asks, "Why go out of your way to scare someone who's a head shorter than you?"

"Braden, is that you?" a voice on my right softly calls out. I turn my head to see Maren sticking her head out of her window. She has lived next door to me since kindergarten. "Yeah, it's me" I say back, "Who else would it be?" She climbs out of her window and jumps the short distance between our roofs.

"Good point" she says. Now that I can see her up close, I can see that she has her dark brown hair in a ponytail and she's wearing pink and white pajamas. It is rather late.

"It's been awhile since we've been on the roof," I say, running my hands through my thick brown hair. "Not since you told me about Spain," She says. I had moved to Spain two years ago for my dad's job. In the year I lived there I learned almost fluent Spanish.

"That was so long ago" she says quietly, "We grew apart." It was true, although we still knew each other so well we had become different people. She looks at me, her eyes scanning my face for my thoughts. "Something bothering you?" she asks me. "It's nothing" I say, finding sudden interest in my shoes.

"Don't pretend you aren't unhappy Braden," She says sternly.

"It's nothing," I say defensively, "Just some asshole at school."

"Who"

"Nobody"

"Who,'' she says it more forcefully this time.

I look into her eyes. I don't want her to think I'm saying this because I'm jealous. "Jordan," I say looking away from her, "He's been stalking me all week."

"Just because someone follows you doesn't mean..."

"He started a fight with me on Monday and I was a total wimp," I say, "He hit me once and I ran away... I'm scared of him, he doesn't have the bast history."

That was something she couldn't deny. Jordan had gotten some people pretty hurt in fights, one kid even got his arm broken.

"I'll talk to him about that," She says sympathetically, "Sorry this happened." That didn't really help me. She hops back over to her house and climbs into her window. It's getting pretty late, and I'm getting tired. I open my window and climb into my room. Next week will be different, next week will be better.