Your Mark on Me

Chapter 25: Void

Somehow, I managed to drag myself out of bed the following morning. After the intensity of the competition, it was strangely comforting to be back at school. 

I took some notes during classes, but didn't get involved in any discussions — me, the nerd who'd always shoot her hand up knowing every single answer. I didn't talk to anyone. My friendship with Chloe was cold dead by now and Roy had been avoiding me ever since I'd dumped him.

There was this other girl, Zoe, who was a loner like me. Since I had stopped hanging out with Chloe so much, she seemed to make an effort to be friendly, so I chatted with her a few times during breaks. She was obsessed with Japan and its pop culture. Instead of taking notes, she seemed to spend all her time during classes covering the pages of her notebook with pencil sketches of manga characters. I was more of a comic book person, but I liked her. However, it never turned into a proper friendship. I was always too busy practicing, and too eager to spend all my spare time around Mark, to even care about anything else.

Now he was gone, and I had no friends.

Two whole weeks passed like a humdrum of wishy-washy scenes and faces that I could barely notice. My marks dropped with alarming ease, but I was long past caring. I only went to school so that they wouldn't call Mom and inquire about my whereabouts. I'd show up without doing any preparation, without doing any of the homework. At home, I wouldn't do anything but stare blankly at the walls.

Nothing that I used to find interesting had the slightest appeal to me now. I wouldn't even play the piano. I called in sick and cancelled my lesson with Mrs Jackson. I went to the following one, but my heart was not in it.

I wanted nothing. I couldn't see any future ahead.

Mom came back home, at Mrs Jackson's notice. Reluctantly, I had to tell her that my latest moods were caused by an issue of unrequited love. She seemed relieved - I guess she was imagining the usual teenage drama. But the fact that she was at home meant I was unable to just sit around and mope all day, so by the time she left again, I was feeling a little bit better.

Did I think a lot of Mark? Oh, yes. I would close my eyes and relive that kiss over and over, wondering if anything else would ever come close to it. I read that damned letter again and again. The paper was so crumpled and skewed with all the folding and unfolding that it looked like it was about to disintegrate. It didn't matter: I knew the content by heart.

Many times I tried calling the long number he had texted me from after Christmas, with no success. I hoped he forgot that he used it once, but no — he was meticulous when he set his mind for something. Sometimes I would dream that I was back at his house, on one of our usual evenings and it was so cozy and so relaxing that the cruel disappointment which I experienced when waking up simply crushed me.

I went by the house from time to time, nurturing no real hope that he was back. Yet, I felt the disappointment every single time. The sense of comfort and safety that no one else before Mark had been able to instill in me seemed to have gone, following him, wherever he was.

Again, I was a nobody.

***

The Monday after Mom went back, Roy spoke to me. At first, he just walked next to me for a while, and I pretended not to acknowledge him until he cleared his throat.

"So... I don't want to be that guy who says 'I told you so'..."

At the sound of his voice, I made an effort and lifted my chin. I didn't understand what he meant and didn't really care.