stoical - l.h.

fourteen

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luke's point of view

Am I losing my damn mind, or did that girl just walk away from me? As in, the hottest guy in my grade, the person that even most seniors come to for the best booze and parties in the area. Practically the king of the juniors, or the popular ones, anyways. And not only popular, but smart and scholarly and sensitive.

Lavender Nottingham is none of those things and certainly won't ever be. She isn't sociable or even nice in any sense of the word, and surely wouldn't be down for a crazy rager at a stranger's house even if the alcohol is good and free. Isn't that a little bit sad? I don't know the girl and yet I know she wouldn't be up for that sort of behavior. Pathetic.

I try to drill these thoughts into my head, even if it isn't any use. I think that repeating them over and over constantly will finally make them real, true. Like a mantra or something. Isn't that how those things work? You say the calming thing over in your brain until it feels like it's working. Well, I can't say the thoughts are particularly calming, but they're something. They're fucked up, I know, but what can I say? I have a reputation to live up to and being smitten with a girl, any girl, is definitely not apart of that reputation. And even if I were considering giving up apart of myself like I've done in the past, I don't think I would settle for her in giving up something about myself.

I've given up listening to actually good music in public. I barely even wear clothes I like anymore. And those headphones I have to wear, damn, they're just awful. Plus, who was the idiot who decided we have to wear the headphones outside of our ears? Now, not only is the music shittier than life itself, I can't even hear it! All I hear is that stupid rattling sound that everyone overuses and it's almost enough to drive me actually insane. I can't tell if that's worse than the lingo that everyone insists on using today, but either way, they're pretty close in terms of being bad. I hate sounding like I do, and I hate even more the handshakes with my 'friends' and the fact that they only ever call me 'bro' rather than Luke, which is my preferred name. So much I've sacrificed for the good of my reputation, and maybe this girl will be what finally destroys it.

Oh, who am I kidding? She couldn't if she set her heart to it. It is a well-built reputation and no one will be able to tear it down.

Still, I'm left utterly confused as I watch Lavender walk down my driveway, the sun beating against her soft, blonde hair. I could tell she was crying from the moment she'd gotten to the end of the driveway when her hands went instinctually to her face. I can tell she just doesn't like when people see her cry. And from the way her shoulders shake and her hands fumble around, I know it's not just a little bit. It's a lot, almost like last night. I feel so bad, so bad that I feel weird all over. My body almost hurts and I start sweating a little bit. The ache in my legs isn't strong but it's there, dully, and when I get back inside and slam my bedroom door shut, I sit on my bed immediately.

I wonder what I'm doing, since it's so rude of me not to go and check how she's going to get home. She has no one to take her home and she certainly can't walk. Even if it wasn't as far as it is, there's no way she could even know the way. After a second of sitting on my bed and panicking, debating with myself, I swear quietly and get up, running to my front door and bursting right back out into the cold morning. I'm not even wearing shoes, so I don't know where I'm planning on going, but I have to at least get her back into the house so she can let me take her home.

I owe her that much, don't I? I pulled the asshole move that I'm so used to pulling. I made it seem like she was a one-night stand even though that wasn't the arrangement in the first place. Lavender was never supposed to be my fuck-buddy, she was someone I was going to use to feel better about myself for being such a terrible person all the time. I've been feeling so guilty, I figure this is the perfect opportunity. I know so much about dealing with anxiety and depression and probably whatever else she's experiencing, and the least I could do is be there at random hours for her to talk to or to pick her up. Right? That's something a good person would do?