Burned Out [Completed]

Starting From the Bottom

If you're reading this, Nick, just know that I am going to feed your guts to a pack of wild dogs when I get out of here. And that'll be if you get off easy.

If you're reading this and you're not Nick, I guess I should explain my situation to you.

I was fine with my life before, sure it was a little boring, but I'd take boring over this any day. I used to be Oliver Ridgley, the only girl on the varsity cross country team as a freshman. I was Oliver Ridgley, whose only worry was her grade point average. I was Oliver Ridgley, the girl everyone ignored (I was perfectly fine with that one, high schoolers are jerks). But all because Nickolas Stoffer had to rear his ugly head in my life, I'm Oliver Ridgley, the girl trapped in a nightmare.

You may be thinking But Oliver, high school isn't that bad! or maybe you're just thinking Oliver is a boy's name! If it's the latter, then I'll tell you to kindly step off. In the case of the first statement, you have misunderstood; I am literally trapped in a sort of nightmare realm. Boy do I wish this was just a high school drama. Sadly, that's not the case and, again, it's all Nick's fault. I cannot stress that enough.

Still don't believe me? Let me describe my surroundings right now... ah yes, the sky is red, not a pretty sunset red, but an oh-god-I-think-someone-died-here red. The only plant life are black trees that look like chunks of dark rock decided to grow branches. There are no animals in sight, but I swear I can hear hear them. And far, far off in the distance you can just barely make out the yellowish-white glow of what could be my only chance at survival. Of course it could just be a raging inferno, but it's nice to be optimistic.

Let's just take a step back and I'll tell you the whole thing.

...

So as I said, it all started the first semester freshman year at Middleton High School. That's in Wisconsin, by the way. I was just getting comfortable with my teachers and even though I had no real friends, I was making a place for myself on the cross country team. I easily showed everyone up on tryouts, I ran the mile in about four minutes.

That really didn't help my popularity, but I wasn't going to keep a respectful distance from the upperclassmen when I knew I was better. They didn't really appreciate that. I figured they'd warm up to me when I helped them reach sectionals and maybe even state. If not, that was their problem.

I was a little bit of a know-it-all, and that really didn't increase my number of friends. It was actually a little lonely, now that I think back on it, but what was I going to do? Cry about it? Haha, no. If anyone wanted to be my friend, they could just come up and ask me. And eventually, one person did. A sophomore castout named Martin Smelt. As you can imagine, wherever he went, a trail of nicknames about how he smelled or what he spent his time smelling followed him.

I had seen him several times approaching me from the corner of my eye during lunch, but he always backed away at the last second. It was kind of funny, I'd make little wagers with myself if today would be the day he managed to say hello.

Well, one day I lost that bet.

He slammed his tray down across from me with clumsiness that his nervousness brought. As always, I wondered why he was an outcast. He was nicely built, not too muscular, and not that bad looking either. He could easily make it with the sports crowd, but chose not to.

"I'm Martin!" He gasped out. I noted the beads of sweat that stood out against his dark-skinned forehead. Was it really that hard to talk to a girl?

"Hello, Martin," I said politely. "What brings you to my Table of Solitude?"

He choked out a mangled laugh. "I saw that book you're reading, Tales From Nowhere, I read that last year and I loved it!"

I glanced down at the open book between my hands. So that was his idea of flirting. A book. Well, it was quickly becoming one of my favorites, so I elected to humor him.