AT LAST, I COULD BREATHE | billy hargrove

party on, wayne.

chapter song: Black Cat - Janet Jackson

party on, wayne.

Doodling in my notebook during class lectures was one of my favorite pastimes and I normally didn't do this during Mr. Bennett's lectures, but this happened to be a special occasion because I wasn't distracted by Sir William Hargrove this time. He was there seated next to me, pissed, because Bennett treated us like children and thought we had to be in alphabetically-ordered assigned seating the whole year, so it's not like Billy's seat choice was voluntary by any means.

My pen lightly stroked across the top right-hand corner of my paper, creating lines that eventually resembled something of a rose—using the rose tattoo on the inner side of my arm as a reference. Bennett's loud voice was explaining the difference between past participles and present participles (I'm not even sure if he actually knew the difference because no one else did) when all of a sudden, towards the end of the period, he stopped. His abrupt silence didn't go unnoticed by me and so I looked up to see him peering over the edge of his glasses—his eyes switching between me and Billy.

"What's wrong with you two?" He asked out of the blue.

I glanced around, even behind me to see who or what might've prompted him to ask this question. I gestured to myself and he nodded, a concerned expression on his tired features. "Nothin'?," I replied, very confused. "Why?"

"We've gone an entire class period and I haven't had to yell at you two—not even once," he asserted suspiciously. The old man genuinely looked worried. He was right: Billy and I talked and fooled around all the time in that class every single day and today we couldn't even look at each other. Without the context that I have, I'd be confused too.

I shifted my focus back to my notebook and continued to draw. "We're on a bit of a...hiatus if you will."

I could hear Billy scoff and Bennett seemed to be amused at how my reaction pissed the kid next to me off. "Hm, interesting."

The old teacher went back to his participles as scattered whispers erupted across the classroom. Apparently, Steve was right. This was worthy of the national news. I tried my best to ignore them, but the group of girls behind me were so incessantly annoying about it.

"I can't believe they broke up," One whispered.

"Oh my God, I know. Do you think he cheated?" Another asked.

"Who cares? He's single now and you know what that means—"

"Ladies," I whispered back, interrupting their laughs and turning to face them. "Common misconception, but we weren't ever dating. He's been all yours, sweets, go right ahead."

They just stared blankly back at me, quite obviously fearful that I heard what they were saying. I flashed them a 100% fake grin and directed my attention back to my notebook.

"Oh, and also," I turned back. "You whisper too loud. Might be dangerous if the person you're shitting on hears you."

The rest of the period went on agonizingly slow, with a thousand insecure thoughts about Billy running through my mind every second. For once in my life, I actually cared about what these people thought of me. What would the team think of me now? Will everyone turn against me? Which one of us do they like more?—we're both assholes anyway.

The bell rang and Billy practically sprinted out of the classroom, even beating the kid who sat next to the door out the door. I was packing my shit up at my own pace, knowing I had a free period next when a slightly-wrinkled hand rested on the edge of the desk. I glanced up from my seat to see Mr. Bennett again with that same pitiful look on his face as before. Did he really enjoy yelling at me and Billy that much?