When We Meet Again

Chapter 37 | Changes

The first few days were hard.

I had to literally push back every emotional response that popped into my head when I saw his face.

I had to to dig my nails into my hands every time I saw them together.

I had to bite my cheek and blink rapidly every time I saw him and realized he didn't even want to be my friend anymore let alone my-ugh what was I thinking?

Let's just say I had to visit the bathroom alot during my first week back at school.

Each day in that week was harder than the day before.

The upside was that my cold got better thanks to Dr. Sanders, and my self-earned doctors Sharon and Tasha. They pulled me out of my stupid hole, forced some Panadol down my throat and took me book shopping.

They also got me half-broke.

I'm never half broke.

The other upside-well, at first it was a downside-was that Max did his absolute best to avoid me.

Yes, it hurt.

So much.

And I kept thinking-for God's sake it's only been a few weeks since he got here.

And then I thought-thank God he left. If he stayed I would probably never be able to handle his mood swings.

If he had stayed he might have been your-ugh stop!

But then I thought of how much better it was compared to enduring am entire year of school sitting close to the love of your life and know that they dispised you.

While not even know why.

He switched partners in English after our presentation.

He hadn't even showed up on that day. I was beyond angry at having to do it all on my own. I wanted to throw everything out of the window and tell the teacher he put in no effort into the project.

But that would be a lie.

Why you ask?

There was an envelope left the previous day on my countertop labelled, Jane Austin: A Seemingly Interesting Author.

After the presentation I realized that it really was much better this way.

Imagine having to stand next to him and feel his hatred radiating off of him.

Yeah, this was better.

He even switched all of the classes he shared with me.

I didn't even know how he'd managed to do that.

But I didn't care. At least, not anymore.

The second week was less harder than the first. I pushed every single emotion I felt for him into a dark, dark corner in my heart.

Maybe if I pushed it hard enough, it would get out somehow.

After all, the crack in my heart had to be of some use.

The third week was easier.

It was getting much, much easier to ignore him.

My birthday helped me feel better. Sharon gathered the gang and we spent it at Pizza Hut, snacking on pizzas and drinking Pepsi straight from the bottle.

I'm not a big fan of birthdays. I don't celebrate it-even with family. I never questioned it. It just didn't feel like such a big celebration. I mean-I am getting one year closer to my death.