I Don't Really Know...

Chapter 22: A Black Hole.

“Done!  Ok, come back to your desks guys,” Miss. Faye interrupted my pencil, now floating in the air instead of scribbling away.  I move towards the door, startling everyone who forgot I was outside.  “Come on guys, move it!”  I quickly approach my seat and slide into the cracked chair, looking up at her.

“Ok, so I won’t be collecting these, they’re for your benefit, but I really want you to cherish these.  You could look back on these in your senior year and think, ‘Wow, look how terrible my writing was, until Miss. Faye fixed it.  She’s one of a kind!”  She puffs out her chest and places her hands on her hips while everyone chortles.  

“Ok, so good job everyone!  Looks like class will end in about 5 minutes-does anyone want to share?”  Everyone shifts in their seats uncomfortably.  One girl, with prominent cheekbones and a small gap in her teeth shoots her hand up, seeing her opportunity to share.  

“Carlana, what did you write about?”

“So, um, I wrote about how I’m really looking forward to this year...Mainly about how I’m finally old enough to start driving, becoming independent in junior year…”  She stops and twirls a piece of her blood-red hair.  “And I also wrote about how I’m so confident this year….especially with everything that’s happened...before this.”  I can sense her internal shudder as a bad memory is probably passing her mind this second, and I feel bad.  Her emerald orbs blink innocently, and she looks down.  

Later in that afternoon, I saw her again in the hallway.  I wasn’t sure if she was still down from the reminder of earlier.  She stopped at her locker, so I walked over to her and tapped her on the shoulder.  

“Hey...I was wondering if you were still sad from English...I hope everything’s ok now.”  I smile sweetly at her.  The only expression I receive is a sneer and her slamming her locker shut, grasping her books tightly.

“Why should YOU care?  I’m fine.  Get away from me.”  I see her reach into her purse and pull out her iPhone, a red color that almost matches the tone of her hair.  She glances at it, then scoffs.

“Ugh, you ever have that annoying feeling whenever you bring the wrong phone to school?  I was supposed to bring my other iPhone.  Oh gosh, the pain.”  She starts to gracefully walk away, shoving the phone back in her purse.  I stare flatly at her back and swishing hair.  

“Yeah, so much pain,” I mutter, turning around and walking the other way.  So much for helping.  I hate girls like that.  What were her troubles last year?  Having to drive herself to school instead of her chaffeur or something?  I tread away with the feeling of weights being chained to my legs and sucking me into the floor.  If I ever see her again…

The band room in the distance is like my version of a black hole, waiting to suck me in and never let me go.  Gulping, I relentlessly trudge toward the door.  The door is a dark, blue-black; hence, the black hole.  The metal door knob slowly turns as I walk in, seeing the director sitting at the piano, writing furiously on a sheet of music.  A handful of people are sitting in chairs, talking, putting together their instruments.  Since we’re the only music group in the school during the day, we can just put our instruments and music on our chairs in the mornings.  I dig into my backpack and pull out my music.  I still don’t trust, after everything that happened, to put my music on my stand.  I know someone will steal it.  I don’t want to risk anything.  

Vanessa walks in with her air of pride, carrying her phone and holding it up next to her ear, half hidden by her sandy-colored hair.  The director points, his eyes glinting at her.  

“There’s my best flute!  How’re doing?” She waves, holding a thumbs up at him and grinning valiantly at the room.  As soon as she turns to me, it turns to a baneful glare paired with a smile of perfect, pearly teeth.  Not wanting to anger anyone, I give a reluctant wave.  Why can’t she be the one sucked into the black hole, flute and all?  Seeing her, with her manicured, coral nails clutching her flute in terror as the hole imbibes her into nothingness.

With me standing there, waving goodbye.  

“Hey.”  I hear a low voice alongside me.  My heart shrinks as I look to see Preston holding his french horn by his fingertips.  “How’s it going?  Sorry I wasn’t here yesterday.” He takes a seat next to me, placing his music, for the 1st french horn, on the stand.  “My sister was sick with a cold, so I took care of her.”  I laughed shyly, holding a hand over my heart dramatically.

“You’re so sweet.  Is she ok now?”  Preston returned a reply with a smile.

“Yeah, well enough to go to school instead of staying home.  What have I missed?”  

Just as I was about to answer, the band director tapped his baton and announced the first song we were about to play.  Stopping the conversation immediately, we lifted our instruments and began to play.  I wasn’t paying attention, making unintentional slurs with notes, playing the flats instead of sharps.  Instead, I was thinking.  

Did Welby really mean what he said?  Or was he just teasing me because he knew Preston?  Was he just making fun of his friend, as in, “playful banter?”  All Welby said was, “girls aren’t cut out for him.”  Did that mean he was...gay?  

The music abruptly stops, and I look over at Preston, smiling.  

“You’re so good at french horn.  So talented.” I half-joke, and he gives me mocking thanks.  I open my mouth, staring at him, but close it.  He looks questioningly, but I don’t say anything.  I gather up the courage and say,

“Do you ever feel as if...people don’t tell you something?”  I query, not looking at him.  I hear him chuckle.

“What do you mean?” He disassembles his french horn and takes out a clean rag, cleaning the brass.  “Not following.”  

I start to give more clues.  “You know...when people are good friends, like you and I, but….something that the other isn’t sharing.”  I feel like I’m sweating.  I don’t mean to pressure him.  I can tell he’s starting to get a bit nervous too, and he rubs the back his neck with a slightly shaky tone of voice.  

“I guess I’ve heard of that.  But… maybe things aren’t meant to be shared at certain times.”  He definitely knows what I’m talking about now.  I smile at him, naively, but his smile lingers.  The bell rings for the end of the day, and I get up from my seat, clutching my case and music.  

“Well, I hope everyone knows that I’m okay with anything.  Of course, they don’t have to tell me everything the second I mention anything of importance.  That goes for everything.”  I wave, and walk towards the door.

Towards the black hole.

And I step out with ease.

SIDE NOTE:  In no possible way am I making fun of bisexual people. I merely thought it wld make an interesting twist to a story. Please don't take offense, EVERYONE is awesome, no matter what. Love is love, and i believe that strongly :)

Thank u for whoever is reading!! u guys are amazing XD