Once upon a time, a girl made a vow never to give her heart to someone undeserving . . . for the sake of her happiness and heartbreak.
Lydia Hayes has had enough grief in her life. After the death of her mother, she was torn. As for her father, he...
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"All the street lights, glowing, happen to be Just like moments passing in front of me So I hopped in the cab and I paid my fare See I know my destination, I'm just not there"
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If high school has taught me anything, it's that people come and go through your life like flipping magazine pages. You scan through them, assess the page and it's contents, then turn to the next. No one ever remains in your life no matter how alluring they are. The pages of the magazine, so dainty and undoubtedly trustworthy, yet so many lies scatter the fine pages. Yet, we don't see the lies that hide underneath the ink. All we see is the ink and the words that come with it. There's more to people that meets the eye.
As students leave the campus, returning to their cozy cars and swapping spit with their significant other, I sit myself upon a bench. Miguel texted me during fifth period, I'll be awhile after school, wait for me. So here I am, out in the open of the cold December air. Even though it's freezing and I'd much rather be in the comfort of my bed, I was excited to see Miguel. It was a new feeling that I loved.
Rubbing my hands together for warmth, I exhale and watch as water vapor mixes with the air, creating a puffy cloud. The tip of my nose is red and cold to the touch, I didn't need a mirror to know this. My legs dangle from the bench as I sway them back and fourth. Cars of many models exit the parking lot above the speed limit. Some wild teens do donuts in the back lot, screaming and chanting with the smell of gasoline and rubber.
"Hey," says Stephan. I turn around just as he takes a seat next to me on the bench. "What are you up to?"
I ignore his question altogether and face the parking lot again. "I thought you were mad at me," I blandly reply.
Stephan clears his throat. "Look, I'm sorry about what I said. It was out of line. I'm not sure what's happening at home, but, I just—" he pauses. I can imagine those wheels twisting and turning in odd directions within his head, trying to form the right words. "I just want to make sure you, your parents, and . . . Daniel, are okay."
My eyebrows furrow and fingers tighten around the sleeves of my jacket. Turning to him, I sense sincerity before I see it. "What do you mean 'okay?'"
