Again

Chapter 33.

Sitting by the window never appealed to me. In the summers I'm burning up, other days it just distracts me from the actual lecture and I wasn't for that. But today, it is as if my eyes are glued to the dirty glass. My eyes wander over the parking lot and the lonely big tree that has been there forever, alone. Few drops run down the glass, showing how dirty the glass actually is. My thoughts wander off.

"Okay so we did miss history class, which for the record I do not regret at all," Emma says, closing the bathroom door behind her. She looks through the few cabinets, making sure that we're alone.

"Where's Heather?" I ask to kill the awkward silence between us. I know Emma's dying to find out some details.

She gathers her brown hair in the hands and secures it on top of her head. "She went to history class to tell Mrs. Scott that we won't come," she smiles. "That girl has courage; Mrs. Scott probably killed her in front of class."

I nod while looking at myself in the big mirror of the schools bathroom. Emma had opened the little window to let the fortify smell of deodorant and Hollister fragrance mist out that every second girl uses. But after ten minutes it still lingers. I might really throw up any minute.

With a huff I get on to wash all the mascara off my cheeks. I sincerely hope that no student comes inside and sees the mess that I call my face. I almost rip open my backpack and get my little pouch out in which I keep all the travel sized 'emergency' stuff I actually really don't need in. But today I am glad I have it with me and pull the make-up remover out. Once my face is clean and the evidence of my tears gone I pull out some concealer to cover up the redness under my eyes and on my nose before reapplying some mascara.

My mind is going crazy, my wrist pulsing with the beat of my heart. I don't dare to look if I have bruises. Even if I do, does it matter? He wouldn't have done it on purpose...

"Pss," a voice rips me out of my thoughts. I look up to see Emma staring at me. She points at something next to my feet. I look down to see a little ball of crumbled paper. Picking it up, I glance at the front to make sure Mr. Lance -our English teacher- is occupied.

"Are you feeling okay?" Heather asks, her warm breath hitting my neck as she hugs me. I nod hugging her back.

"Thank you so much," I say and she smiles. I huff, "I feel like such a burden at the moment."

"You're not serious are you?" Emma asks, as I open the locker. I get all my stuff inside and only take out the books I need. I'm not even mad that I basically made my history homework for nothing. I close my locker and look at the two of them. I shrug.

"You are definitely not a burden! I am surprised you guys handle me," Heather smiles. Wrapping an arm over my shoulder she pushes me around the corner, Emma following.

I am driven out of my thoughts by Mr. Lance calling my name. I hastily shove the piece of paper between the pages of my notebook. "Yes?"

"I was just asking if you could help Mr. James out here?" he says, gesturing to an rather attractive looking boy. He's tall, very tall, and somehow I know just by looking at him who he is. I glance at the class behind me, the girls dreamily looking at him and am proven by my thought; this is Carter.

He grins at me, his deep eyes not leaving mine. "He's new and I want you guys to do the project together."

I open my mouth to reply, but am cut off by the bell. I bite my lower lip and tear my eyes from my new project partner. I forget about the note; instead I shove all my school supplies into the backpack while Mr. Lance puts all my other class mates into groups, even though everyone is already leaving and him shouting that he decides when the class ends. What is the bell for then?