Breaking The Mirror [Edited And Complete]

Nothing, Sir.

On Friday, I lost my game of cat and mouse with Mr. Spencer. He cornered me after class and easily pointed out the obvious.

"You've been avoiding me," He points out, brushing a piece of dark hair behind his ear.

What was I supposed to say?

"Yes, sir," I reply simply, nodding. He sighs.

"Why?"

"Because you think you know me," I respond evenly, "You think you know everything about me, and you're probably right."

He blinked slowly, his eyes softening even further, if possible.

"But I don't want you to know."

I push past him and run out the door.

-

When I got home, I was in a foul mood. I slammed the door, which really wasn't a good idea, because apparently Alfred was sleeping and...well, my stomach has quite a few bruises now. Good news, the cuts on my arm have closed up enough that I don't have to wear that bandage. How conspicuous is that?

On Wednesday, I stayed walking around until midnight so I wouldn't have to face Seaton after that... revelation. I like him. I like. Him. Seaton. Like. Whoa.

I'm thinking maybe I should quit school. I mean, I'm old enough, and I can always get a job at some fast food... but would Seaton approve? Probably not. There goes that idea, then. I like him. Fuck I like him... do I want him to kiss me? I... hadn't really though about it...I close my eyes and try to picture it.

His face moving closer, his eyes peering deeply into mine, his breath on my lips just before they're met by his....

"I love you, Kiddo."

"No!" I jerk and roll off my bed in a tangle of covers.

-

On the weekend, I just sleep. I guess having a crush on someone that you'll never have any chance with takes a lot out of you. That sounded so emotional. I'll stop.

On Monday, Mr. Spencer doesn't even attempt to talk to me, which I greatly appreciate. I think he might've gotten the hint. Or, he told the school and it's only a matter of time until social services drags me away from home, so he's relaxing. Three and a half months ago, that wouldn't be so bad. But being away from Alfred is being away from our apartment, which is ultimately bad.

When Tuesday rolled around he finally cornered me again, crossing his arms and giving me a look that I can only define as parental.

"Jayden," He says to me slowly, "I want you to tell me what's happening."

"No, sir," I say, making my eyes hard.

"Jayden," He repeats my name tersely, "You were selling drugs. That isn't like you. You would never –"

"How do you know that?" I hiss, shoving him aside, "I was arrested for it, so it must be true. Right?"

"No," Mr. Spencer says, walking beside me as I started out the front doors of my school. I hate this. I'm talking too much. Just leave me alone. "I think someone put you up to it. I think someone made you, and I want to help you, Jayden!"

"I don't need help," I say softly and start running as I get out the door. He's an old guy, and he can't keep up with me. I'm actually a pretty fast runner when I want to be.

About a quarter of the way home, I lose my breath and begin walking, my hand pressed against the stitch in my side. I look back. He's not still following me, thank god.