here without you

01

I sit down at our table in the school cafeteria. When I say "our table", I mean the table my best friend Nate and I always sit at. Somehow it is as if every student has their table or place where they always, with the same group or person, have lunch at. For me, it's with Nate. My sister Olive used to sit with us, every now and then when she felt like it, but obviously that doesn't work any longer with her being dead.

While I'm waiting for Nate to join me, I try not to look at anyone. Because if I do make eye contact with only one of them, I know what's going to happen: I'm going to see their pity for the girl whose sister decided to end her life. If they are stupid enough, they will invite me to sit with them and their friends, which is just going to be uncomfortable, for them as well as me.

Forced kindness is what I've had to deal with a lot ever since school has started again. People who I've never spoken to before - who I sometimes can't even name - would suddenly talk to me. They would give me their condolences, they would ask me how I'm doing, and they would talk about my sister. And all the while, they wouldn't care about what happened to her.

But luckily, after a while people have learned that it's best to leave a grieving person alone, especially socially awkward ones like me. People used to try to comfort me because of what happened, but now all of them are avoiding me. No one knows what to say to me, or how to deal with me, and the truth is: No one likes to be around someone who is sad, or emotionally damaged, or whatever it is I am - I don't even know myself.

The one - and only - person who, for some reason, still wants to be around me is Nate. I guess even he wouldn't if we wouldn't have been friends for such a long time. I'm more than glad we are, because the only person I can talk to and whose company I actually enjoy is him.

I wonder why he still hasn't shown up. I'm looking at the big clock which is hanging to the wall on my left, as I hear foot steps approaching.

Please let it be Nate.

I turn my head. It isn't.

In front of the table stands Jade Cadwell. Long thin legs, long ginger hair, and astonishing blue eyes. She's one of these pretty cheerleaders who have a lot of friends and seem to be getting along with everyone. She's carrying a food tray and looks as though she wants to take a seat at the table. I silently hope she won't - so of course she does.

"I'm sorry, but this seat is taken," I say.

"Yeah, it is," she replies. "By me."

I can't help but let out a laugh at her response and see her smiling. It crosses my mind that she might be alright, and to be honest, she doesn't seem as bad as the other ones. But then I remember she was one of Olive's best friends, which is, I decide, one of the reasons I don't want to sit with her. She probably wants to have a conversation about her, and I know that is just going to be awkward and uncomfortable.

I quickly consider which of the following things will be harder for me to do: Speaking to Jade about my sister, which is the last thing I want to talk about; or telling her to go away as nicely as I can, which I won't be good at. However, I know that I won't be good at either of those things.

I choose the second option since it seems like the easier one; I will have to face uncomfortableness for about a minute rather than for a whole lunch break. I take a deep breath to prepare myself for what I am about to say.

"Look, we don't have to do this. You and Olive... I know you were close to her, but I don't want to talk about her and hear you say you're sorry, or whatever. I just... I just don't want to sit with you and talk to you. So please go away."

Like I said, I won't be good at this.

I expect Jade to get up and walk away, but even though I must sound rude, she doesn't seem offended. She stays at the table, and what follows is a moment of silence.

"I lost my mother to cancer when I was twelve," she says.

I don't know what to say, and I don't understand why she is telling me this. So I say nothing, waiting for her to continue.

"After she died, a lot of people told me how sorry they were, and honestly, I got really sick of it."

I know what she's talking about. I was and still am going through the same. People act like they care, when really, most of them don't.

Jade looks into my eyes, and strangely, I can't find the pity that I have become so used to by now. It feels like her eyes are able to look at me and really see me, if that makes sense. They are oddly calming; maybe it's the blue, which reminds me of the ocean.

"Listen, Roze," she says. "I know you're not the type of person who asks for help, or opens up easily. And I get that you don't want to talk about Olive, but if you ever change your mind, let me know."

Her blue eyes rest on me for a few seconds before she takes her food tray and walks off, leaving me to myself, thinking about what she said. I know I won't talk to her about it, but for some reason it's still nice to know I could if I wanted to - that is if she meant what she said.

"What was Jade Cadwell doing at our table?"

Nate has, at last, arrived and sits down at our table. I tell him that she just wanted to have a chat. I don't often speak to any of the other students, so I'm sure he knows we were talking about Olive. But he doesn't ask any more questions because he's aware that my dead sister is a topic I try to avoid. Lately, all of the talks I had with classmates were about her, and gladly, Nate saved me in a lot of them.

He knows how to speak to people, and they genuinely like him. It's not just because he's good looking, though that surely helps. He is also a funny guy, and he just always knows the right things to say - unlike me. When it comes to talking to people, we are pretty much the opposite of each other. Perhaps it's one of the reasons why our friendship works so well.