Misplaced (COMPLETED)

the conclusion . . . for now

School had become a place where the lines between nightmare and daydream, safety and danger, panic and relaxation were blurred together. When the egg of your world has cracked wide open, it's important to know which parts of the past to hold onto and which parts to throw  into the swirling winds overhead. School fell into the narrow grey area between keep and desert. Do I keep on account of my friends and carefree bliss I had with them? Or run away on account of my malicious ex-boyfriend whose only sin was not loving me?

The eyes of his most devoted friends and fans followed me down the corridors as I passed. His football skills were doing nothing but improving and whispers of a future scholarship plagued my ears. A part of me was happy for him, proud even. But the majority of my body and mind felt only more miserable by the way it seemed his life had dramatically improved since my departure from it, even if his success had nothing to do with me.  

"Kaylee!" A voice screamed my name across the sea of students.

My feet slowed to a halt whilst I waited for Zoe to catch up to me. Her arm looped itself around my own as we walked and I could feel her eyes flashing me a look. No, not a look, the look. The sort of look people give to others that have just lost their house to a freak bush fire. Or those whose grandparents have just tragically passed away. It's the sort of look given to those who have lost something. 

I smile back at her, trying not to let her facial expression bother me. It didn't take my mother long to figure out something was wrong after our break-up. When I eventually gave in and told her, one of the first comforting comments she offered towards me was: 'it's high school and he was only your first boyfriend. There are plenty of fish in the sea'. So if people keep telling me it's not that big of a deal losing Zach, then why do they keep acting like it is a big deal?

"Just a heads up," Zoe whispered in my ear, "He-who-shall-not-be-named-but-ever-hated is up ahead with his pack of brainless goons."

"Rodger." I nodded to Zoe as if we were war generals about to enter a wild battlefield of guerrilla warfare. Making a joke of avoiding Zach wasn't entirely effective but it did make me feel better. If nothing else, it provided the perfect war paint to disguise the skittish feelings I shouldn't be feeling around him. 

We're all encoded to believe we should be fearless and bold in front of our ex-lovers. They're meant to be only a reminder of the past that scarred over a long time ago. What doesn't kill us makes us stronger, right? It was a shame my own heart wound was not only lacking a scab, but it was still oozing hot red blood and no matter how many different ways I tried, the band-aid just couldn't seem to stick. 

We heard them before we saw them. Loud voices, loud laughter and loud declarations of their supposed male dominance - from a distance it's hard to remember why I ever loved Zachary. When their sounds gave way to visual reception too, I could make out the tall statures of six pack members. Zach had never been the alpha of the pack but he was very much an included brother to the gang. As a result they'd probably all had a very accurate picture painted by Zach of our break-up, including my angry and somewhat-embarrassing-but-not-undeserved response. 

Like dominoes, they all turned to watch us as we walked past. None of them said anything. They didn't need to - the edge in their eyes said enough. Zoe tightened her grip around my arm and I was reminded of her words: 'He-who-shall-not-be-named-but-ever-hated'. It was true. I hated him and his new confidence and his new life. I hated how he seemed to be doing so much better without me and I hated how I was doing so much worse without him. I hated it.

The time it takes to walk the five metres past his group seemed to last forever. I kept my eyes trained firmly forwards but I kept a running tab on what was happening in my peripherals. Some of the guys got bored and look away. Others who were late joining the stare-fest join it then with double the conviction. But the boy I'm searching for is missing from my radar. That is until I feel a final set of eyes join the eyesight highway to the side of my face. It's a scorching intensity and I wasn't sure whether I wanted to run away and find some sunscreen for the burn or turn and get as close to his eyes as I could.

Zoe was the ultimate love and relationship advice expert over the course of our rocky, rocky journey. She told me not to look and I believe that was good advice. I wanted to appear as close to not caring about him as possible. Looking infers there's still some residual feelings lingering and I know I wouldn't be able to hide depth of longing to swim through my pupils.Time seemed to have slowed to a crawl and his eyes had the strength to light my hair on fire with their unwavering vigour. My steps were too slow and my self-control dissolved like a cloud of vapour - I looked.

Swirling green and dribbled in golden flecks of hazelnut, his eyes were the daydream that seeped into this nightmare without asking my permission. Miraculously, my feet kept motion and I continued to stride over the pavement. How I managed that skilful coordination, I'll never know. For the first time since Morris Lake we were looking at each other directly. And for the first time since then all our emotions were out in the open, bare and unprotected. We were communicating in a language only we knew how to decipher. Cut past all the politeness and all the rumours and all the things others told us how we should act and what we should do - that was the raw emotion they would never be able to understand. That was the feeling of looking into the window his soul and seeing my own staring right back at me. That was pure chemistry that had interwoven the fabric of our existence together in a magnetic feeling I didn't know how - didn't know if I wanted to - cut myself free from. 

I wanted to stay and ask him why. Scratch that, I wanted to know how he could give this up so he could live a 'normal high school life'. Was he not feeling the same magnetic pull towards me as I did to him? Or had I gotten it wrong and that secret, unspoken language was actually being interpreted differently between us? But then maybe he was right. The force of that feeling was stronger than I had, and maybe will ever be prepared for. If it was as strong for him as it was for me, then maybe it was too much too young. Maybe it scared him as much as it scared me.

"God, I hate him," Zoe announced. 

It took my mind a moment to catch up but suddenly time had returned to its normal pace and Zach was but a blip in the rear view mirror. Zoe was still waiting for my answer, for my response to seeing our newfound archenemy and I hurried out a half-convincing, "Oh, yeah. Me too."

And it's true. I hate him. I do. I do. I did. 

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A/N:

This one's dedicated to all the moments I want to translate into words but can never give proper justice to. 

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