Her Secret

two | senior year

Senior year. The one year in high school people actually look forward to. The one year of high school people get excited about.

I mean what's not to get excited about? Senior year marks the first step of us saying goodbye to our life as children, it marks us letting go of high school, and getting ready to start fresh.

At least for most people, for me it's different for obvious reasons. Reasons I don't care to explain right now.

So instead of dwelling over what will never be, I force myself to be excited for my brother.

And with that in mind, I get up, and get ready for my day.

Looking at the mirror in the bathroom, I can't help but criticize how I look.

My lifeless brown eyes stare back as me, as I take in my skinny frame, and pale skin. Of course it's not my fault for being so skinny, it's cancers fault. But that doesn't make it any easier to cope with.

Before I got sick I had a curvier figure, not too curvy obviously, due to me constantly having the flu, but curvier, and I can't help but miss it, as I run my hands over my prominent collarbones, and skinny arms.

Making myself forget about my body size for now, I focus on getting ready.

Having showered the night before; as per usual due to the insane amount of hair I have; at least until my chemo and radiation start up again, and the even more insane amount of time it takes for it to dry, I am able to dive right into my makeup and hair.

I have finished with a round of chemo and radiation, and have been on a "watch and wait" period for the past couple of months, and due to how quickly my hair grows, it is currently hanging right above my shoulders.

Not wanting to draw too much attention to myself, I settle on leaving my hair in its naturally wavy state, and applying minimal makeup; which includes concealer and mascara.

I then go hunting for an outfit, and settle on my go to ripped black high waisted jeans, a hunter green V-neck top, a leather jacket, and Dr. Martens boots. I know, not a very colourful choice of clothing, but like I said, not trying to draw attention to myself.

I then make my way downstairs and see my family eating breakfast. Knowing I won't get away with not eating, I grab myself a bowl of cereal, while going through the typical 'good morning' conversations. Basically, not so subtly getting hounded for how I slept, how I'm feeling, and a reminder to take my medicine, and my lunch to school.

I respond kindly, telling them I'm fine, as I eat and take my morning medicine.

Dylan and I then head to his car, which is technically our car, but I never drive, so it's more so his.

When we pull into the school parking lot, Dylan meets me in front of the car, and puts a comforting arm around my shoulder, as he guides us to our lockers, which because of our last name, are beside each other.

As we're walking, I become aware of how tall my brother is. His 6'1 frame towers over me, seeing as though I am only 5'6, it does make sense. With us being twins we of course have similar features. Dylan's dark hair matches mine, but instead of inheriting my fathers brown eyes like I did, he was blessed with my mothers pale green eyes. Something I will always be jealous over.

We get to our lockers, and I pull out what I need for my first period, Psychology, while Dylan pulls out his math supplies.

When he turns to me I already know he's going to offer to walk me to class, to meet me at lunch, to see me before second period.

And I love him for that, but I will never let him drift apart from our peers like I have. I'll never allow him to get the looks of confusion, anger, and frustration that I get for cutting myself off.

So before he can even say anything, I hold my hand up to stop him and say "No Dyl, you don't need to babysit me. I love you, you know I do. Which is why I am not letting you spend all your time with me. Your friends are waiting, so go, and don't feel bad, I'll see you after school."

And with a departing hug, I'm off.

----

School so far as been normal. I have been sitting in the most secluded seats I can manage in each class so far, haven't spoken to any of my classmates, ate lunch alone in the library; much to Dylan's annoyance, and have been watching my old friends, making sure they seem okay; which they do.

I am glad for that. I am. But I can't help but feel a pang of sadness in my heart every time I see one of them. Do they miss me? Do they see how lonely I am? Do they care? Do they hate me?

Zaina, Daniel, Noah and I used to do everything together. We had no secrets between any of us, they were an extension to my family. And I loved them. I still do love them. Which is why I need to stay away.

When I pass they'll probably figure everything out, they know me well enough to anyways. The only reason why they haven't figured it out yet is probably because they're blinded by their anger towards me. Anger towards me cutting them off with no real reason. At least that's what they think.

I wish I could tell them how sorry I am, how much I miss them, how much I love them.

Dylan is still friends with them, he has a separate group as well, but he was pretty close with my friends too. He offers me updates but I decline. It's not my right to know if Zaina aced her math test like always, or if Daniels little sister got the part in her ballet dance she wanted, or how Noah celebrated his winning touchdown.

I bring myself back into reality when the bell rings, signalling that it is now time to head to last period, and for me that's english.

When I get there, I pick the back corner seat, closest to the window, so I at least have something to look at while I force myself to ignore everyone around me.

The teacher, Mrs. Raj comes in and starts discussing the syllabus, and I take that as my cue to zone out.

About five minutes into her review of the syllabus, the door slams open, and in walks notorious bad boy Zach Dawson. Zach Dawson with his tall frame, standing at about 6'2. Zach Dawson with his lean muscles that are clearly visible through his usual metallica, GNR, and other rock band t-shirts. Zach Dawson with his messy black hair, that falls above his eyes until he moves it away, his sharp jaw line, crooked nose, and his piercing grey eyes. Zach Dawson.

Our high school isn't very cliche, I mean due to Hill Crest being such a small town we all know each other, but we don't have that one snobby girl who dictates everyone.

I mean sure, there are a few people who have it in their heads that Zach is in love with them, and they have a relationship in the near future, but that has more to do with how most teenage brains work, not high school.

Zach is sporting his usual rock t-shirt; todays being GNR, ripped black jeans, a leather jacket, and combat boots. It does cross my mind that we're basically matching, but I don't dwell on it.

I don't have time to be in love with Zach Dawson.

Mrs. Raj greets Zach with an eye roll, and tells him to take a seat. As his eyes scan the class for a suitable seat; aka one in the back row, his eyes fall on the one beside me, the only open seat in the back row.

I don't particularly mind, it's not like I'm going to speak to him. So I just turn my head and resume looking at the window, even though there's nothing special going on out there.

Zach never was a talker, so our mutual silence seemed to suit each other.

That is, until Mrs. Raj dropped the presentation bomb on us, and said we needed to find partners.

I've had a few group assignments to complete since getting sick, which have been hard to complete. With my spontaneous visits to the hospital, and constant drowsiness, I am usually unable to finish my part on time, no matter how hard I try to.

The school knows about my disease, and doesn't penalize my partner or I, but it does raise questions. Questions I am not willing to answer.

Zach turns to me and monotonously says "You're my partner."

Great.