tree climber-- clifford

VIII {eight}

eight

a.m.

Michael had left Sunday morning fairly early. He told me he had something with his mom. I didn't question him, even if he was telling the truth or not.

I hadn't seen him at school Monday, Tuesday, or all today. He hadn't text me, (which I had finally gotten his number when he left) or given me any contact whatsoever. I was kind of pissed. I mean, I had a decent time last Saturday, he then spends the night, leaves abruptly, and then doesn't show up to school or try to talk to me? Of course, I'm not his girlfriend. Maybe I'm not even a friend.

God, oh god. Get over yourself, Autumn. I mean, seriously? How pathetic are you?

I walk up to my tree and pull myself up. I had just finished reading John Green's, Paper Towns, so, I had found another book I haven't read in awhile. It's called The Lucy Variations. It's one of my favorites, actually.

After several chapters and thirty minutes or so, I heard footsteps through the quiet classical piece that was playing through my headphones.

I look down. "Oh, it's you." I half-heartedly mumble, continuing on my reading as I notice Michael. I knew it would be him.

"What, you didn't want to see me?" His voice is playful, mine is not.

"Oh, I did," I breathe, "three days ago."

"Oh, that-" Michael mumbles and runs his hands nervously through his newly dyed blonde-ish, brown-ish hair. "I was, ah, busy."

"Well, I'm ah, busy." I smile at him. The new evening air is still warm enough for me to not need a jacket or sweatshirt.

"Do not play that Autumn, you have no idea what I was doing." Michael's tone goes dark.

I turn down my book and eye him from above. "Whatever, I didn't need to talk to you anyway,"

I stare him down. "you can leave now." I do feel some what bad for being such a bitch, but c'mon, I have a right.

I'm overreacting and I know it. I really do. But, right now, if I want to see if he gives a shit, this is what I must do. Michael sighs and grabs my arm, pulling me (still in shock) from the branch where I had sat. Once my feet touch the ground, I am slammed into his chest. My face is buried into his rib cage slash chest. Michael smells of cologne and smoke. He then pets my hair like I am a cat.

"Please don't, Autumn." Michael inhales into my neck.

"Don't what," I ask while smelling his chest again.

"Be like that. I did miss you," He squeezes tighter. "a lot." I laugh through my nose. (which is basically just breathing through your nose heavily to sound like a scoff slash laugh?)

Michael asks why I find that funny. I answer him honestly, "you've achieved ignoring me and making me feel bad about myself." I frown.

Michael pulls me arm's length from his chest, smoothing out my forehead and flattening down my frizzy hair, before returning an answer. "You know that wasn't my intention."

I throw Michael's answer back at him. "Do I?" I sigh heavily. "I mean, honestly. Michael, you're my only friend, what did you expect?"

He looks at me with saddened eyes now. Great, now I've gone and made him upset. I am overreacting. "Sorry. I- uh..." I quickly pull away from Michael, pushing my hair behind my ear and throwing my bag over my shoulder.

"At least let me walk you home!" My pace is so fast, Michael has to jog to catch up.

I assure him I'm fine and continue walking home. Michael still follows. "Seriously, Michael, go."