"Quiet people have the loudest minds."
Stephen Hawking.
I feel as though there is a choir singing inside of me, followed by a sonorous drum, which then wraps around a soft, melodious voice. The voice accompanies the chords that echo throughout the piece and the drum is the heartbeat, guiding itself into tranquility.
There are harmonies, yet they appear to fade with the remainder of the song, a new note emerging, the next note embracing the previous echo. Soon, all the voices become a crowd of diverse bells, ringing out the tune in which the song first began with.
...
Striding into my English classroom, I take out my notebook, ready to write a rough draft on the question Mr Thunderman set us. Scanning the room, my eyes immediately land on Wyatt, who's chatting with Miranda.
"How is it possible to frown this early in the morning already?" I think.
Purposely wanting to ignore him, I sit beside him, using my raven-black hair to hide my face. My attempt is in vain, for I can still hear every laugh and word that is uttered between them. He continues the conversation as if I were invisible, not even bothering to acknowledge me with a good morning.
"So, Wyatt," Miranda giggles, "maybe you'd like to come to my house in order to, you know...work on the project?" She places a hand on his shoulder, twirling her hair and tilting her head.
I'll admit, her act can actually charm people and if I weren't so mad, I'd even fall for it.
"Okay," Wyatt agrees. "We're doing a presentation, right?"
"Yeah," she nods.
"Cool," Wyatt says and then holds her hand.
"On a scale of one to ten," my inner voice says, "how worthless do you feel?"
"Twenty," I answer bluntly.
"Thought so."
Frankly, life at school has been the same. Wyatt neglects me, I do my best to avoid him and overall, I remain unnoticed, sitting at the back of every class in all lessons. Thank goodness, my grades are still exceptionally high.
Again, life at school is the same as it had been a week ago.
Only now, I couldn't get Red out of my head.
His eyes were all I could see when my mind wasn't occupied. From a distance, I believed I could hear his chuckles, giggles and yes, even the smallest of sighs.
There are rumours going around, saying that Red had been badly hurt before the fire alarm and was now at home, getting the rest he deserves. There's also gossip, stating that somehow he had made it to the nurse's office all on his own.
If only they knew the truth.
I wouldn't be surprised if the first rumour was genuine. I mean, I haven't seen Red since the incident, so it would seem reasonable if he was at home getting some rest.
I miss him, a lot. He was the first person, besides him, who took the initiative to get to know me. The real me. Not the one the whole town has constructed.
He was the first person who made me want to try. The first person who made me want to get recognised. The first person who thanked me for my efforts.
This is not normal.
Why did it have to happen now?
I need to numb the pain. I need to forget and move along.
But there's no use denying it.
I want to see him again.
So imagine my confused expression when a very special visitor entered through the door.