Dear December

Chapter 12

I don't believe in love anymore.

Love is for beguiled individuals, grasping at some manmade concept of human emotion that sounds pretty in a poetry book. It doesn't last. It doesn't stay forever. My parents are proof of it: love is an illusion. It will make you feel infinite, euphoric, high. Like drugs though, there will always be a comedown.

I hereby vow to never fall into the trap. In fact, I vow to never even think about it, to ever become infatuated with someone. Not like Benjie is with Daniel.

I scowl at the pair of them on the other side of the History classroom, shoulders pressed against each other and smiles plastered on their faces like they both came out of the womb with huge grins. The way Benjie looks at Daniel reminds me of how my dad used to look at my mother. It makes me scowl all the harder.

"Why do you look so angry?" Becca asks from beside me, a bemused look spreading across her features. "It's kind of freaking me out."

I turn to her sharply. "Have you ever been in love?"

A crimson colour flowers on her cheeks, all the more prominent on her polystyrene skin. "I uh- I don't tend to throw that word around so lightly."

"You're thinking of someone," I say, turning away from the stuttering red headed mystery girl who seems to have pissed a lot of people off.

She scoffs. "I am not!"

She notices my lack of conversational engagement and goes back to writing on the pink and yellow flash cards we're using for our presentation. She'd initially included me in the project, but once she'd noticed my mind was some place far away, she'd hastily plugged in her headphones and left me to the textbooks.

And she was right: my mind was far away. All the way on December.

When I showed up at his house last night carrying a hefty bag full of the highest calorie food I could find... well, he was pissed to say the least. Something about how he's 'not just some charity case' and 'doesn't need my help'. I didn't listen to that though. I don't think he's a charity case, but he does need help- that much is clear.

Nonetheless, he'd taken the plastic shopping bag off me and closed the door after reluctantly thanking me. I'm still stressed about him though: who even knows if he's eaten any of it.

That's when Salim walks into the classroom. I slump forward on the desk. It's not that I don't like Salim- I love him like my own brother- but he makes my head hurt. Recently, he's been talking about the theory of life and sent me spiralling into a daylong existential crisis'. I don't know where it's suddenly coming from- he sounds high half the time.

I'm too far away to hear what the teacher is telling him, but eventually Salim starts walking in our general direction, sliding into the desk behind me.

I twist in my seat and wrinkle my nose. I know that smell. It's become far too familiar since Joel moved in. If my mum noticed, she didn't say anything.

"You stink of Mary Jane."

Salim's dark brow furrows, the lines between his eyes deepening. "Who the hell is Mary Jane?"

I lower my voice. "Marijuana you idiot."

He relaxes into his seat. "Oh. Right."

"So you smoke weed now huh?"

He crosses his hands on the table in front of him, fidgeting with his fingers. "Depends how the day is going. I usually just sell."