Blue | ✓

Chapter 4

(edited)

When she arrived home, her parents asked what took her so long, but as soon as she opened her mouth to answer it was like the question was never asked.

"Oh, dear. Where's the sheet music?" Her mother was frantically running around the living room with her black gown on, turning things upside down and leaving a trail of papers in her trace.

"In the trunk, dear. I made sure to pack it already." Margaret managed to slip upstairs between her mother's frantic scurry for her things and her father constantly telling her mom he already has it packed.

This is what happens every time her mother has a concert. Her mother loses her sheet music or forgets where she put her shoulder rest, or even worse, forgets where she put her performance bow. Though more often than not, it was her father who was approaching a new deadline and needed help getting his life put back together.

Margaret heard them kiss and say their 'I love you's'.

"Bye, Margie-poo. Have a good week and stay out of trouble," her mother belted up the steps. "Is it a long one," Margaret asked back. "Only a week, babe. I'll see you Sunday."

There were times when her mother did travel groups and could be gone for months at a time. The energy always seemed to die without her mother in the house. Margaret's mother was the only one who could coax her father out of his corner office.

The next morning, Margaret and her father continued as usual. "Hey, Pops? Can you drive me to school today," Margaret asked.

"Sure. Why, sweetheart," he questioned.

The moment her mother had left last night, the house had gone still and her father disappeared into his study. Margaret went downstairs, hoping to tell him at dinner, but he didn't even make an appearance. There was no point in trying to talk to him when something else already had his attention.

"No reason, Pop," she replied.

The car ride was silent but not awkward. Margaret cherished the silent moments with her father. It was as if the love he couldn't reciprocate verbally came through telepathically. Margaret also cherished these moments because it meant he didn't have anything negative to say.

They arrived outside the school doors. "Love ya," she shouted as she walked away from the car. "Bye, hun," he mumbled back.

The day took on the same monotonous tone as the one before. The same order of classes, same faces, same work. Margaret had hardly noticed when lunchtime had arrived. She B-lined for the lunch line before it began to buzz with all of her friends.

Friends, she thought. Do they still count as friends?

After paying, she went to sit down at the same table from yesterday. Fifteen minutes into lunch, she heard giggles behind her. She simply ignored whatever it was and continued to eat.

"Lol. I don't know how you didn't realize yet, but this is our table." Margaret mentally strangled the girl. There was no need to turn around because she already knew who it was. Jamil.

"OOF," Margaret replied with fake shock and remorse. "I'm so sorry. I just forgot..." she pats her pockets and shirt as if searching for something. "Oh gosh. What a fool. I guess I forgot my shits to give at home. Better luck next time."

Margaret had yet to actually turn around and could hear Jamil huffing but knew she would leave. Jamil is one of the girls who dish it out but have no idea how to handle getting it handed back.

Margaret heard another voice come up behind her. "Wow. You really should've seen the look on her face." The person the voice was attached to made her way around the table. The girl reached her hand out. "Hi, I'm Charlotte."