Withered.

8

"You can ask Dylan! He was there! I swear, it wasn't me the one who started this! You have to believe me!" I tell to the principal, trying to prove my innocence, for as my 'dearest friend', beloved Alison, is sitting next to me, in a red chair exactly like mine, talking over me, attempting to fill his head with lies and telling him that I started it and that I was the one who approached her.

'Isn't she a sweetheart.'

He shuts us both up and for a moment, the room is filled with silence. The only thing that I can hear is the stifled crowd of people from the halls walking to the classes and talking. The principal is sitting on the other side of the desk, looking at us truly disappointed. His sight is moving from me to Alison and reverse. I can say that he is trying to give himself an explanation for what happened. 

I would be happy to update him, but I am not really in the mood.

I analyze him for a bit, trying to take my mind away. His brown eyes match his skin. I always admired the way his head shine because of the absence of his hair. And his lips. He had pretty big lips. I always wanted mine to be a little bigger, however, I wouldn't 'go under the knife' for any change of look. Not even for something that small as my lips. My father talked with me once about this. He told me something like lying to yourself with those things. He was not the best father, that is for sure, but when he was in a good mood, he was a great adviser.

My chest is starting to feel heavy at the thought of my father and how I will never get any of his advises anymore. I try to wash away this thought and keep on glancing at the principal.

I just stare at him, waiting for him to say something, but he doesn't say anything.

My patient is running out and I can feel how I am slowly getting one step closer to explode of anger with every breath Alison takes nearby me. I can't even look at her. I know that if I do, I will see the old Alison.

That Alison whom I loved with all my heart, and that I knew would never do anything to hurt me. The Alison in whose arms I would always find comfort. I may see all of our memories in her eyes. All of our moments of craziness, sadness, happiness.

But I can't see that. I can't allow myself to see that. All those memories faded away, and that is how it should remain because I know that this Alison is not the same. She is not my friend.

"I am trying!" he starts, looking fatigued. "Honestly, I am trying so hard to find a meaning of what just happened but I can't. You caught me off guard. How could a friendship like yours, which I knew to be a very strong one, change like that, over night. Literally. I saw you just yesterday leaving this building, together, and now 2 boys need to untangle you from one another? And right now, Alison, when Aaliyah needs you the most?"

'Ha. Good joke!'

"Oh, trust me, Mr. Matthew, she is the last thing I need right now." I interrupt him.

Alison looks at me for the very first time since we entered in the principal's office.

"Oh now you're playing the victim?" she says looking at me with a deadly expression.

I can't precisely say that I didn't expect something like this, so I am not very surprised. Instead, the principal is. And he looks terrified at Alison.

"So, if I am not the victim in here because my father just died, then who is? You?" I tell her in a calm tone.

She wants to say something, but she changes her mind. I assume she remembered that we are not alone. She can't say anything in front of the principal because she is ashamed. I don't think she cares that it is illegal, but she does care about her reputation. She is a great student after all. She wouldn't like if anyone ruined her image. And nobody would ever even dared to do that. But why shouldn't I cross the line?