The Heartbreak

Chapter 2

I petted Van Gogh's back for what seemed the umpteenth time since I had decided to lock myself up in my room. Van Gogh was the munchkin cat with a missing ear my mom had given me just a few months before. The name had been Mason’s idea.

Maybe it wasn't such a good idea to have my cat near, considering the memories. But then I would've had to travel to the moon to be away from everything that reminded me of Mason.

Van Gogh purred and curled against my side. At least he tried to comfort me.

After having to endure a couple of hours of pitiful looks and whispering around school, I had decided I needed some time alone, despite Reina’s insistence that what I needed was distraction instead of wallowing in self-pity. Fortunately, Skye understood and only handed me a box of tissues that her mom kept in the car and the half a bar of chocolate she was carrying in her backpack.

“Sorry, but biology kind of makes me hungry,” she offered with a sympathetic smile when she dropped me off.

I did not know what to do or think. How was I supposed to tell my parents? Yes, they might have not loved Mason, but he and his sister were a fixture on our Saturday evenings of pizza and board games at our small bistro downtown. Sure, my dad was afraid of Mason’s motorcycle, but had loved it when Mason lent it to him to experience freedom in the two-wheeler.

Damn tears kept running down my cheeks, and I was not even blinking. I could feel the pillows wetting behind my neck and, even if it bothered me, I couldn't move.

Strangely, this did not make me angry at Mason, but at myself for being so vulnerable.

I wiped the tears furiously with the back of my hands.

Being alone in the house was probably for the best, as at that moment I would have hated to hear my parents’ questions and my brother’s I told you so’s.

Jack just hated Mason on principle.

They were the same age and had been friends during middle school, but at some point Jackson had decided to become the star of the soccer team and straight-A student, while Mason had decided to get into trouble, getting in fights and lowering his grades, becoming some kind of rebel.

It seemed just my luck to end up where Jack had warned me I would be. Hurt. Cheated on. And all that without a single apology or explanation.

In some measure, I was glad that day Jack was on a field trip with the team. I did not need more drama and mentions of my name in the gossip running around school. I had had enough for a lifetime that day alone to add on top of it my brother defending my honor.

The front door was opened and closed a few hours later and, at that sound, I jumped off the bed and grabbed the oversized Northwestern sweatshirt that had been discarded on the chair at my desk. I awkwardly slipped it on while with one hand swept the tissues off the bed and into a small trash basket.

Checking myself in the mirror, with no surprise I realized my eyes were red and my cheeks dark pink. There was no time to run into the bathroom and splash cold water on my face so I just pulled my hair free from the sweatshirt, and inhaled deeply trying to muster some courage. Though, I hadn't much of that left after walking through the school's parking lot crying.

In just socks I made the way out of my bedroom, shooing Van Gogh away. The little cat ran down the stairs, hopping on his short legs. I followed behind much more coyly, afraid of the moment Jack laid eyes on me.

Jack was not exactly very perceptive, but he had moments of clarity.

This was not one of them though.