Keys of Life

Chapter Twenty-Five: Faye

Chapter Twenty-Five: Faye

   I felt like an idiot. A good night's sleep had made everything better, and it was one of those mornings when the air seemed to shimmer with possibilities; fresh, new and gleaming. Even with school lurking on the horizon, every breath of crisp, warm air seemed to languish in my lungs, and for the first time in a long while, everything felt good.

   So, looking back on the depressing thoughts and the gloomy emotions of yesterday, I felt stupid. Life wasn't so bad. Fate didn't single me out and allow the troubles of the world to rest weightily on my shoulders. I'd done that.

   I heaved myself out of bed, lumbering with long, heavy steps towards the shower. I passed Keenan's door, a part of me still thinking that he would come out, run a hand lazily through his hair and profess himself ready for the day. I reminded myself sharply that he was gone, and instead of smiles and laughter, it was another lonely start on another early morning. That shimmer seemed slightly less tangible all of a sudden.

   I wondered why he left. It was too abrupt, like a gunshot in the middle of a crowded city. He never said why, never tried to fill me in on the details, and had only written that he was 'sorry'. Apologies rang with falsehood if he couldn't even take the time to say goodbye. I fingered the small piece of paper in my pocket, ironing out the crinkles in a worn surface. I couldn't bring myself to throw it out. Just feeling the stabbing grooves of writing and the blurred ink, so unlike his art, made me feel a little bit closer to the person who had written it. Just a smidge.

   I went through the rest of the morning on autopilot, my eyelids starting to droop not even an hour after I had gotten out of bed. Same routine of being ignored and ignoring. Eating break and being eaten by scathing whispers.  French blurred into English which blurred into mere blurs. It wasn't until a certain redhead came into my line of sight that I even bothered to look around me. Anger reared its energetic head, full of fiery justification and righteous accusations.

   But then...just like that...it disappeared. Anna didn't know me, didn't care, and why should she? It wasn't as if I hadn't done worse myself, like not wanting to be seen with the school's loner or making my own 'truth' about a certain someone. God, I'd been a bitch, thriving on attention that feasted on rumours and embarrassment.

   I'd known just how to play it. Needed the admiring glances and adoring minions to do my dirty work, seeing a chain of actions and reactions like they were cast in stone. All the while, behind the snickers and knowing smirks, guilt was chipping away at my heart; pride the only thing allowing me to hold a stare.

   Even then, I'd tried to be Jason.

   Smithy's words hit me like a brick wall, subtle as a neon flashing sign. He knew. He knew exactly what I'd been feeling, because, in a small way, he'd felt it himself. The perfect boy; tragically lost to the veil of death. The need to step into Jason's shoes and hold his life together by imitation and blind, pressing hope.

   The high, domed ceiling above me felt claustrophobic. I had a feeling that I might suddenly be struck down with an incapacitating headache which meant I had to go home for the day. I remembered Jason did that once...

   With that, everything clicked. He hadn't always been happy. The whispers in the hall, the secrets concealed within his eyes. The way that Smithy painted a completely different picture to Autumn, but the warmth of his tone still conjured up the same crinkly images of affection and love. Love... That pesky four-letter word that I knew so little about, but still made my heart ache in too many different ways.

    Jason was Jason, and Faye was Faye and my parents were...struggling. Smithy was truthful and Autumn was hopeful and we were all grieving in different ways. A part of us always would wonder about the man he could've been, and we would always feel sad. Life went on.