You don't mean that" his usually firm and hard voice breaks and cracks like a little girls', he looks broken the exact image of a jilted lover, my resolve begins to waver as well as my anger.
He didn't do anything wrong, I asked for it, I invited him home and I jumped him like an animal to satisfy my lust but what doesn't add up is how he wilfully agreed and participated in it, why did he do that, why didn't he laugh at me and call me a loser, why is he here right now in my bedroom looking like a broken doll.
But I don't ask any of the questions that run through my head,
"Get out" I say firmly.
He laughs a small weak bitter laugh, covering his face with his hands, he uncovers his face and nods his head a few times as if agreeing with some hidden force.
He turns his back to me and walks out the bedroom door in nothing but his boxers, he marches down the stairs andI watch him gather his things that we had discarded downstairs in our hurry the previous night, he gets dressed in a furious hurry and storms out of the house without another word to me. I want to run after him, I want to tell him how confused I am and how nothing makes any sense, I want to show him my heart and how it beats for him but instead I go back upstairs and lie on my bed feeling empty, it is Saturday.
Monday finally comes but not quickly enough.
I spent the last two days going through the motions of my every day life but not registering any of it, the events of Friday keeps repeating in my head.
The fire inside of me did not quench with the sex instead it has become a raging desire, I keep picturing his face, the feel of his embrace, his smell and even right now I am searching for that familiar brown warmth among the many pairs of eyes.
I open my locker absentmindedly and take out books, I close it and walk into my first class still searching.
My eyes go directly to his chair where he is majestically seated, Jessica standing over him laughing about something, I bow my head in anger and pain, he should be mine.
My head begins to ache, I am not used to feeling so many things at the same time, infact for a long time now i have been void of any emotions or so I believed, nothing makes any sense.
"Miss Marley, can you come to the board and help us balance this equation?" I heard the question, but it makes no sense so I remain seated staring off into space.
"Miss Marley?" I look towards the direction of the voice, I see the owner of it, a staunch middle aged man with a happy face and bald head, but it seems unreal, the maths equation on the board looks like an ancient code in an ancient language.
My hands are shaking, I feel hot, faces begin to morph into strange shapes, I close my eyes and open them, a familiar scent fills the room, I know this scent, I inhale loudly, trying to trace its origin.
"Savanah are you okay?" I feel a hand on my shoulder, jolting me back from my trance. Mr Smith the maths teacher has his hand on my shoulder looking pale with worry, I am not on my seat, I am standing...standing next to.... oh my God, how did I get here, why am I standing next to Zachary.
As my face widens in realization and panic the whole class begins to laugh and murmur,
"She's so high" someone is saying. Zachary has his eyes on me, and the panic in them is mirroring mine.
I spring for the door running as fast as my legs can carry me. I get to the restroom and turn on the faucet splashing water onto my face, why do I feel so hot, is it the fever again? I hear footsteps approaching and I run into a toilet stall locking the door behind me. I spend the remainder of the day avoiding Zachary, I am feverish again and for the first time in a long while I am scared. I head to my last class for the day, biology.
I go into the half filled class not seeing faces or hearing voices, everything looks to strange and far away, not even drugs make me feel so disoriented, I walk to the back of the class and sit on the laboratory table in the third row, second to last.
A piece of paper slides to me on the table, I ignore it.
I refuse to fall into whatever prank they are trying to play on me but I am highly curious, I turn to face the owner of the hand that had so calmly slipped me the note.
She has a pretty smile and brown hair tied into a pony tail, her black eyes that are set on me seems to say it understands my plight, she beckons to the note with a finger urging me to read it without using words.
As if hypnotized I pick up the note and unfold it exposing its secrets written in bold and neat cursive letters.
Are you okay? The note says. The sincerity and care that those three little words manage to convey takes me by surprise, when has anyone in this school ever cared?
I fold and unfold the note in my hands not looking back at the sender, but somehow I can feel my fever reducing, the world taking on a clearer form, I place my hand over my chest, listening as my beating heart slowly falls into rhythm.
As the last bell of the day go off I see another piece of paper in front of me and I open it up without thinking curious as to what magic words this one would possess.
'Do you want me to walk home with you, you don't look so good'.. why was she suddenly interested in me?
As this question rings in my head I begin to remember her, my silent partner and all the little favors she has done for me in the past unnoticed and unappreciated.
All the group projects she had done alone but added my name, the assignments she had submitted for me when I forgot to do mine.