A to Z

Love A Lost Illusion

Z was tortured in her mind for a week after she left A on his doorstep that night. When that week was over, her walls were rebuilt and she felt stronger than before. This was a part of her story that she had to let go. Her reputation got worse than ever, and she even began skipping more classes - although she miraculously kept her grade above a C by relying on her semi-friends to send her notes and assignments - and always got lunchtime detentions when she was caught, and she wasn't caught often. Z avoided A like the plague. If she saw him in the hall, she would turn and walk the other way. If she saw him in the cafeteria, she would take her lunch outside. If she saw him in the parking lot, she would go back inside to her locker. It was hard, but she managed to put the memory of him away.

One day, Z was asked to take a folder to the office. As she was passing by a hall, she heard a teacher telling someone to take the first step in getting their peers to seem them as a better person. She walked passed the hall quickly, but not before she peeked in to see who the teacher was talking to. She was surprised, but at the same time she was not surprised, when she saw that the student was A. He looked different. He was still wearing his jacket, but his hair had gotten longer, was a bit messy and unkempt - it was covering his classic earing, and his outfit was much more carefree - sweatpants and boots below his jacket. Even the way he held himself had changed. He was still having trouble rebuilding his walls, and now they were tumbling down. She didn't see his face, but the way his shoulders were hunched broke Z's heart once again.

Z walked on as fast as she could and tried to force the image and thought of A out of her mind. It didn't work, but she tried her best to distract herself by reading A Tale of Two Cities, a favorite story of hers. She was halfway through when she realized it was the last book suggestion she had given A before abandoning him. She set it down in disgust, realizing she couldn't escape the thought of A for long. Everywhere she looked, there was something that reminded her of him. There - the red mini skirt she wore when she first fell for him, here - the last book she suggested for him to read, and even the plastic bag lining her trash can - from The Chipped Cup - made her think of him. She couldn't escape.

After a night full of tosses and turns, Z went to school as tired as one could be. As she trudged through the door, she saw a somewhat familiar looking boy. He was tall, with dark hair and muscular arms. He was wearing nice, crisp jeans and classic adidas. He had a plain white t-shirt on, with no jacket of any kind over it. And his hair, oh, that devilishly handsome hair, was shorter, with no gel, and seemingly untouched by any unnatural colors. And his ears had no signature earing on them. A was almost beyond recognition.

Maybe Z was wrong, maybe people could truly change.