CONSENT.

One

     I float through the halls these days. I'm just kind of . . . there. Yes, I've got friends. Yes, I have people that care about me. I know that. I love them. I care about my friends just like I think they care about me. It just hurts so much to know that he doesn't care about me.

     It's been a few months now and my friends have all stopped asking about it. I don't know what I would do if one day Lily or Juliette decided to check up on me. Would I break down and tell them everything I've been feeling? Or would I just smile and say, "I'm fine?"

     I have everything in the world but him. I hate myself for wanting him still. I have an amazing family, amazing friends, amazing teachers . . .

     It's just so very easy to feel alone, even if you're surrounded by a sea of people.

___

     "Come on, people! Mr. Boyer hollered. "It's the second week of your junior year of high school! I tried to be 'Mr. Nice Guy' and let you choose where you sit, but you still need to listen to my lectures and take notes!"

     I sat with one of my best friends, Juliette, at a chemistry table. I was taking very detailed notes, unlike the rest of the class. My other friends, Lily and Leo, sat at the table beside us. We were a tight knit group, along with Lucy, Ty, and Dean. They sat at our lunch table, but didn't have this class with us.

     I stared at the aluminum sink in front of me as Mr. Boyer hollered furiously at the class. The sink was a little dirty. Not actual brown, muddy dirt. It was coated with those dried drops of water that you could wipe off sometimes, but would always return.

     My thoughts of the sink were rudely interrupted when I noticed that everyone around the room was gathering their books, including Juliette. I looked at her, puzzled. The bell hadn't sounded yet.

     "He's giving us assigned seats," Juliette explained. I nodded and grabbed my books, heading to the back of the room with the rest of the class. Seating charts never struck my fancy. I didn't see a huge point in them since we went to such a tiny school and everyone was able to talk to everyone.

     It was nice, going to a small school. I'm the type of cliche person to believe in vibes. Like, in my dad's office there's a bottle of hand sanitizer  that smells exactly like the one my second grade teacher would pass around before and after snack time. When I smell it, it's like a golden light takes over my senses. It gives me good vibes. It's kind of like Mooney's Sub Shop in the town square where I go to eat almost every week. The owner, Terry, and I are on a first name basis and she knows my order by heart. To be cared about and welcomed like that sends the golden light through my body once again.

     Yet, there are several downsides to living in a small town that have gotten the best of me over the years. Over half of Bedford's alumni stay here after high school and send their children to the school. So, everyone knows everyone's parents' deal.

     My parents' deal was that they were both the children of immigrants. My dad's father came from a Hungarian mother and a Slovakian father. When he was a toddler, my grandfather moved to this area from Hungary with his parents and four other brothers. They started a dairy farm where my grandfather worked day and night. Eventually, he broke away and started his own business digging ditches. Construction. The company has been a huge part of my life. My father, his brothers, cousins, and company operate Pepp Contractors.

     Though I love the fact that my family is hardworking, I sometimes wish I could change my last name. Maybe then, my peers wouldn't think of me automatically when they pass that big building in the middle of town with my last name on the front of it.