Hours

9- Tuesday, May 15th

12:13 PM

"How are you feeling?" Lindsay jumps on me the first opportunity she has, which just happens to be as soon as I sit down.

I look between the two of them; Ashley with her long, straight, so-dark-brown-it's-almost-black hair, paired with hazel eyes looking me up and down, and Lindsay with her short bob of ebony hair, green eyes flicking between me and Ashley. They look as if they're planning something, but I'm sure I'm just being paranoid.

"Fine," I say, giving my shoulders a small shrug as I do so. "Why?"

"You've been acting... strange." Ashley begins cautiously, but at this point, I could just about throw my hands over my head and walk out of the cafeteria.

And perhaps that's an overreaction, but first Amelia, now Ashley and Lindsay? Why is it such a big deal to these people who I work with and what I do? I still eat with them, I still hang out after school. Is this so much harder because of who I'm working with or who I'm not? I hate their opinions on Micheal because I know that I may not have paid attention to Micheal, may not have even known his name, but I didn't hate him. I didn't he was a future-dropout, or a drug dealer, or a loser. Their biased opinions, everyone's biased opinions, are getting to the point where I could just about leave and spend the rest of my lunch in my car.

But then, my salad would go to waste, and that in and of itself would be a great travesty. "Since yesterday, we've noticed and we don't even have any classes together."

"Yesterday you just weren't paying attention to our conversation and then you just left halfway through lunch." Lindsay points out, and Ashley nods. "We didn't talk at all after school either, not even a single text."

"You didn't even go to your locker after school yesterday, Kayla."

"Okay," I say finally, just about finished with this conversation. "Okay, no I wasn't paying attention, yes I left, and no I did not go to my locker yesterday." I exhale sharply and fix the two of them with a look that could break glass. "So. What?"

"That's not all, Kayla, and you know it." Lindsay snaps, always the blunter one of the trio. "Amelia told us that you decided to work with-"

"Micheal Sawyer, yeah." I cut her off, rage almost flowing off me. "For my culminating English project? I'm well aware, so thanks, Lindsay."

"Kayla..." Ashley says quietly, and my neck snaps towards her. "That's... fine." I can't ignore the blatant hesitation as she says that, and it makes my teeth grind. "We don't care. We just... want to know why."

I sigh, glancing around the cafeteria. Finally, I look at them, and I shrug, "Because..." I sigh again, "Because he needed a partner because I didn't want to work with Amelia, because I thought I should, because I did!" My voice rises with each statement, and soon there are tears pricking the back of my eyes and I'm close to yelling. Is this hard to understand? Is there something wrong with me?

"But why?" Lindsay fires back, rising from her seat. Hurriedly, I rise to meet her height. "Why now, Kayla? In the May of our final year, why now, why him!?" I swallow at her words and feel my hands curl to fists. "He's a loser! A blowout! Think: if you were to have hung out with him as a freshman-" I can't take anymore. I grab my lunch tray, my gaze cooling and my words biting as I cut her off,

"Perhaps I would've been better off." I snap, leaving the cafeteria, dumping my lunch out in the process, appetite lost.

As I exit the hallway, I find my feet guiding towards where I saw Micheal yesterday. I look and see nothing but the dented lockers, brandishing locks of different brands and colours, and the scuffed floor, worn from years of students rushing to and from different classes.

A hand reaches from behind me and grabs my wrist. I turn, a snarky insult coming to my lips, sure the face I see will be Lindsay's, or even Ashley's. But the insult dies as I spin around and come face to face with Micheal.

"Micheal." I stutter, taking in his dark outfit. How he can stand to dress like that in the May sunshine is beyond me, but here he is.

"I wanted to talk to you," He says quietly, dropping my wrist as my eyes wander towards it.

"Okay," I say, turning to face him fully.

"I'm going to ask Reynolds for a partner switch." He starts, and my jaw falls agape. "I know you don't want to work with me, I saw you arguing with your friends today. First period and in the cafeteria."

"Micheal-" I protest, but he continues before I can say anything else.

"Besides which, there's something else." He pulls out his phone, showing me our barren text conversation. "This number... it was you yesterday, wasn't it?" He looks back up at me, confusion in his eyes. "I don't know what you're trying at so late in the year, Kayla, but I'm not interested. I mean, thanks for this morning, but..." He pauses, swallowing. Micheal looks up at me, eyes hardening. "Stop. Please. Please, just leave me alone." He shakes his head, turning away. "Stick with your group. I don't belong among people like you." Micheal starts to walk away, but now it's my turn to grab his wrist.

"No." I manage to say eventually, after seconds of him looking at our hands, then at me, then back again. "Micheal, please. I'm not 'trying' anything. I don't care what they think, I don't care who judges. I'm telling you now that this is my choice. I truly want to work with you, and if you're willing to see this dumb project through, so am I." I let go of his wrist, meeting his eyes. "Andy and Alisa have no right to-"

"Treat me like that?" He asks, scoffing. "Way to notice, Price." And with that, he leaves, heading quickly down the hallway and out the door.

I stand in the hall, dumbfounded. Slowly, I sink down the side of a locker, where I sit on the floor until the end of lunch when the bell rings, releasing a steady stream of students into the worn hallways. I stand shakily, making my way towards my Music class, hoping to catch Micheal.

He's not in my Accounting class, and- according to the angel- he has three classes with me.

The odd thing is, I notice as I enter the classroom, this is his second day missing Music in a row. Sure, I never noticed him before, and yes, he could be skipping but something tells me he's not. I pull out my phone and type of a quick message and am astounded when the response is immediate.

I sigh and put my phone away, prepping on how to confront Micheal in Chemistry. Or, if need be, at the end of the day.