the long way home [ h.s. ]

Five | 5

five | 5

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I used to wonder why high school is so hyped.

High school, the supposed best four years my life, even though there's probably far better things ahead like going to college and falling in love and buying a house and enjoying lazy afternoons out on the front porch.

That sounds nicer to me.

And yet, in the moment, four horrendous years are advertised as the epitome of my span on earth.

It's nothing like the movies.

When the final bell rings, everyone sighs.

They shovel their things away slowly, lifelessly.

They trudge out of the room.

The only glimpse of future happiness is the feeling of their backs hitting a soft bed, and neglected books sitting on kitchen stools.

And the feeling of sinking down into the bus seat, waiting to achieve those simple pleasures as the afternoon sets in, and the sun touches my face through the window--

It's one of my favorite feelings.

☓

Today, Green Eyes finds two boys sitting in his seat by the fire exit, slumped over in exhaustion. I'm already in the back, so I study him carefully, as he slowly works his way up to the foreign sight.

He stares at them with confusion. I feel my fingers curling into the old leather, watching as he grows closer and closer, edging up to them with his hands opening and closing into fists.

The action makes me nervous.

The soles of his shoes, insignificant to the rest of the students chatting amongst one another, seem to thud loudly in my ears.

He is a moving rock.

A heavy being.

My heart thrums in my chest as he halts, folding his arms awkwardly.

Panicking.

As if on cue to the uncomfortable atmosphere, heads begin to roll from looking out the window and idle conversation, up to Green Eyes and his dumbstruck expression.

His body goes rigid.

For four years, I don't think anyone has ever been plopped down in the exit seat before he had the chance. People know not to trespass on property that isn't theirs, they also know not to sit in that spot.

Same thing.

Thoughts are running ramped in my head, about the way that he looks quite out of place.

Lost.

Lost, in a sea of eyes, just waiting for him to slump down into a seat that is no longer his for claiming.

And I feel kind of sad seeing him, afraid of persecution from his classmates.

Standing with his shoulders hunched in the aisle way, while pretty girls and strong athletes and people who speak in hushed tones watch him like hawks.

He doesn't know what to do.

Every other seat is full.

Well, almost.

For some incomprehensible reason, and I truly have no clue why, I find myself standing up. I leave my bag in the corner of the backseat and slowly make my way to the middle of the vehicle.

You are crazy, Mary, says my inner voice.

Getting involved in something that I really don't have a purpose in, feeling the attention poking and prodding me from all around.

My head says stop, but my sneakers say go.

They drag me towards him until I'm right there, right there in the middle.

"Hi," I say, my voice shaky with uneasiness.

In one quick movement, he whips around and stares at me, searching my face in shock-- probably because I have never approached him before.

Ever.

I feel the burning sensation of him dissecting my appearance; since, in this position, we're only a mere foot length apart.

My word, is it uncomfortable.

"Hello."

His voice comes out sort of choppy and rough, and it's low.

Raspy.

I find it funny how I wouldn't have pictured it that way.

"Curly-top and the girl in the blue shirt," says the driver up front, the bristles of his mustache scratching against the microphone with an awful sound. "Find a place and plant it. People want to leave."

For a split second I glance up at Green Eyes, who is still intently watching me beside him.

His expression is soft. Very thoughtful, tough. Slowly, his bottom lip curls so he can bite down on it, and he stays that way as I observe.

He's handsome.

Heartbreakingly handsome.

All this time I've never really seen him up close, and the lack of distance magnifies every wonderful detail that I've missed.

It makes me want to look at him for a long long time, but I know that isn't going to be an option-- because the longer I look at him, the longer he looks at me, and people watch us looking at each other.

So I speak.

"You can sit with me, if you'd like. There's room back there."

The following stretch of nothing is almost too painful to bear, with uncertainty of the situation I've put myself in, and the glances being shot my way from all around the bus.

My face reddens.

I fear that he won't reply.

That he'll glare at me, just like he glared at Beautiful Alice, and I'll want to cry because of the rejection that I've basically signed up for.

However, to my relief, I receive an answer.

"Fine," he mutters, readjusting his bag over his shoulder and following me to the seat. Our strides are quick, because the two of us have held up the entire vessel.

I'm a little embarrassed about that.

Settling into the now cramped spot, my leg and his pressed against one another awkwardly, we feel a lurch. Then comes motion.

For the entire ride, almost forty minutes of people departing one by one, until the only space left with passengers in it is our own, Green Eyes doesn't speak to me.

Not one word.

I can feel him watching my profile as I stare out at the trees whipping by, like I'm some type of foreign creature that he's never been exposed to before.

When the dirt path comes, I tell him goodbye.

He nods.

He exits.

He runs.

I sit still, watching him go, and think of the way he smelled like cotton, and how I feel colder by myself.

☓☓☓

a/n

Hello everyone!

I hope you enjoyed this chapter, please vote and comment if you're eager to read more, and I'll do my best to live up to your feedback!

Hugs and kisses.

Soph

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Dedicated to Holly, my bestest good pal. :) <3