because of you » a.i. [EDITING]

6: jump

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CHERRY WINE — HOZIER

"it's a crime / that she's not around most of the time"

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SIX: JUMP

After the P.E. lesson had come to an end, something I actually didn't want to happen for a change, I had no choice but to get changed in front of those girls again. They sat there, giggling at me as if invading my privacy was the funniest thing they'd ever seen. Right now would be the perfect time for the ground to open and swallow me up. God, are you listening? Your time to shine has arrived. 

"Hey, bushy," squeals one of the girls, clearly the one who forced her way into their group; the only one who didn't get the ludicrously pink underwear memo. So what if I don't shave down there? I don't want to. It's painstakingly long and, if I'm not bothered, it stays. 

I get up, having dressed exceptionally quickly today, and splutter out loud, "shut the fuck up, please. Who the fuck synchronises what underwear they're going to wear? This isn't the Playboy mansion. Get a grip." 

Maybe I'm being too harsh, or maybe these girls need to be taken down a peg or two. What exactly do they get out of bullying someone they only met today? They've watched too much television. This isn't Mean Girls. 

"Excuse me, did you say something?" the girl, who I can only assume is the leader of the pack, asks me. It's obviously rhetorical, I don't need that spelt out for me. Her hair is tied back in a French plait, her make-up perfect—not even a smudge—and her backpack is a designer I don't recognise. No matter the price, it's still ugly. 

She stands up and all the other girls follow suit. They're attempting to intimidate me—it works a little, I won't lie—and I take a step back until my back is touching the cold wall of the changing rooms. These girls are nothing but bullies, they'll get their comeuppance, I just need to remain calm for that to happen. Everybody else in the room draws a blind eye as if I don't matter. I already knew I didn't but it would be nice if things were different. 

"I didn't think so," she snarkily spits, edging even closer to me until there's only a metre between us and I'm suddenly fumigated by her So?... body spray. "You're nothing," she adds as if it was really necessary. "And you'll stay out of our way," she says, despite the fact that's exactly what I've been doing so far. It's not my fault they've decided my loss of dignity is funny. 

I swing my backpack over my shoulder and stare at her, unafraid. She's shorter than me; how could I be afraid of somebody who couldn't even reach the top shelf? 

"Okay..." I start. "Come anywhere near me and I'll tell everybody about your staring problem." 

And, with that, I parade smugly out of the room with the knowledge that I had hit her where it hurts. Hopefully next time she reconsiders before ogling my half-naked body and then deciding to laugh as if I hadn't caught her staring. Aren't I supposed to be the weird one? 

Unlocking my bike from its position outside the college's sports hall, I find myself overwhelmed with a sudden rush of sadness. Why couldn't I keep my mouth closed? If I had just accepted them laughing at me and calling me names I wouldn't have made an enemy. And yet, I feel like I already knew them. There it is; deja vu. 

I cycle off in the direction of Dead Man's Forest; a forest embedded with a deadly cliff drop so many have fatefully fallen from. I don't choose to go in that direction, my heart longs for it so my legs obey by peddling at a pace I'd never been before. Nobody ever goes to the end of the forest with the sole intention of seeing the view. 

My phone buzzes. I let it ring. It'll be a family member. 

Trees envelop me as I cycle deeper into the forest, engulfed in nature that feels almost freeing as I let go of the handlebars and throw my arms up in the air. The path is bumpy and rough on my tyres but I continue, my hands reaching for the bike again as a twig snaps beneath me, driving me to a halt. The sound travels around, echoing in an incredibly eery way. I hear twigs snapping in the distance, meaning somebody else is here. It doesn't matter, they're probably not here for the same reason. 

I walk the rest of the way, it isn't long before I reach the end of the path. The last time I came to the edge of the forest I felt the same way I feel now. Funny, life was supposed to get better. 

My bike falls over, landing on the floor as I take a seat on the edge, my legs dangling over. Thank god I wore shoes with laces. It would be kind of dumb to die without my shoes. Not that it really matters, I'd just like to keep some integrity, even in death. 

I look down. It's a long way to the bottom. Is this really how I want to go?

"Hi—" an all too familiar voice shouts, making me jump. My eyes roll without a second thought—it's only natural now like I'm programmed to do it whenever I see him.

He takes a seat next to me. I can't believe he followed me here. Did he know? 

"Hi," I reply, a feeling in my gut unfamiliar and confusing. "Why?" I simply ask, surprised somebody cared enough to be here for my last moments. 

"You said hi," he says, smirking before continuing, "I'm not letting you do it. I might be a little dumb but even I know a cry for help when I see one." He shuffles closer to me and I let him. For once, I don't feel so alone. 

I look at him, fighting the smile begging to surface. "Hi," I snigger, a little bemused by his spontaneity. 

"You laughed," he grins, something I could get used to. 

"Because of you."