Out Of Sight, Out Of Mind - Treebros

Chapter 2: "Wishing and Hoping"

Thursday, September 20th

A routine had formed in the days since Connor sat next to me. Something so small, so minuscule, that I wondered if Connor even did it on purpose.

Everyday, as we walked out of the classroom, we'd make fleeting eye contact before walking our separate ways to lunch. I prefer to walk through the courtyard to get to the cafeteria, because the Health classroom doesn't have any windows. So this is my chance to see some sun before dismissal.

So, as per usual, I glanced at Connor before walking down the hallway. I hate walking in school. I have to look up so I don't walk into people, but then I end up making eye contact which is awkward and terrible. I never know what to do with my hands as I walk, and I always think I'm walking weirdly.

I don't understand how people can be okay with making eye contact with others in the hallway. Like this one girl that I've started to notice on my walk to 2nd block. She's always scanning the hallway in search of someone as we pass each other.

Every time I see her, I feel this strangled feeling in my chest. Jealously that she can so easily make eye contact with people. Envy that she clearly has a friend she's looking for.

And maybe a little bit of sadness. Sad that I can't be her. Sad that I don't have that spark, that light. The fire that heats the furnace that we humans are. My fire is nothing but smoldering coals, while everyone else's is a roaring flame.

My walks to lunch aren't always this depressing. Mostly it's just wondering how I'll try not to look as pathetic as possible while I'm sitting alone.

The noise of the cafeteria always overwhelms me. So many different sounds, so many different things going on. I dart over to the table where I usually sit. Sometimes Jared joins me, but never for long.

Today is one of those days, because I hear his footsteps before I see them. He doesn't pull up a chair, which means he won't be here for long. As least I don't look like a total loser with him around.

"How was Lit with Frank Iero?" Jared asks. I stare blankly at him.

"Who?" He chuckles. Not the 'haha my friend said something funny' kind of laugh, but the 'haha my family friend is so fucking stupid and doesn't get the joke' kind of laugh.

"Do you not know who Frank Iero is?" he asks, raising an eyebrow. I reach for my cast, rubbing the plaster.

"I know who Frank Iero is," I lie. I know he's a singer, and pray that Jared won't interrogate me. "But who are you referring to?"

"Connor Murphy, duh," he says.

I'm quiet for a moment. I don't want to indulge in his name calling, because Connor doesn't deserve it. But if I argue, then I'll inevitably get humiliated some more.

"It was alright," I whisper, and Jared smiles smugly.

"Did he show you his list yet?" he asks, leaning in conspiratorially as if this was a private joke, and not an offensive remark.

"He's not gonna shoot up the school," I say, and he leans back, tsking and shaking his head.

"You're either gonna be the first to get shot, or you're gonna get a note the day before that tells you to wear red that way he doesn't shoot you on accident," he cackles, and I muster the courage I need.