Francena Nakamura never expected that, for the usage of her senior year, she'll be helping Julian Dean - star captain of the soccer team and her ex-crush - find her old pseudonym, Miss Incomplete.
Never did she expect, that in the process, she'll f...
I drop the backpack onto the hardwood floor in a loud thump, falling face-forward onto my bed. I landed with a thump, the soft cushion of the mattress broke my fall enough to not make me whine out in discomfort.
I groan, feeling the need to take the nearest thing to me and wrap it around my head to suffocate me in shame; unluckily for me, it was only a pillow and all I could do was put it to the back of my head, gripping on the ends as I shove myself deeper into the mattress as I attempt to drown out yesterday's event.
What the hell was I thinking?
Accusing Julian like that? Taking it out in front of all his friends? I'm a horrible person.
Graham gave me a whole-ass lecture yesterday, telling me that I should've waited a minute to think everything through before going out with my plan. I agreed with him, but it didn't help that it stings that he was right. He said that my emotions made me act on impulse, and that my outburst yesterday was me not being able to tame myself. I couldn't. But I should've.
When something happens, I go. I don't wait. When I need something to happen, I go. I never wait. Just a small act triggers something in me to impulsively use my emotions against me. I should've waited. Counted to ten like the counsellor said.
What even caused the whole situation to be worst, is that with every class Julian and I got, he made sure to find the furthest desk away from me. I wasn't surprised by it — I would've done the same if I was in his position — but that doesn't mean it didn't add salt to the wound. This was the first time Julian was mad at me, and even with my ability to own up to my mistakes — usually within a couple of hours of doing wrong — I couldn't find myself to apologises.
I'm not a stubborn person; I'll admit when I'm wrong but whatever happened in this turn of events caused me not be able to even stutter the words sorry.
I feel ashamed, I feel horrible. I'm the worst person in the entire world right now, and I couldn't help but feel that way.
I sigh, dragging the pillow to the side as I needed to pull myself up to have a gap of air. I closed my eyes, staring at the empty room and frown, "what the hell am I going to do next?" I whisper to myself, dragging my leg off the edge of the bed and into my chest.
My eyes opened once again, and I found the bookshelf in front of me staring back at me. I scanned the dysfunctional shelf, and found myself looking at the yearbook section of kindergarten to junior year. Deciding to take a small break of misery, I headed over to grab the junior year off the shelf, as the cool front cover falls into my hands.
I situated myself back into the position on my bed, and dropped the book onto the mattress, flipping to the first page.
At the front cover, against the hardwood back, were signatures and farewell greetings of junior year.
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Some of the people who signed my yearbook, I had no clue to who they were; and in some of their point of views, it was the same coming from them as well. It was just due to the fact that we were passing yearbooks all around at the end of the year in lunch period and whoever caught on, and signed, signed.
