I didn't take my meds today.
Two days ago Caitlin Adams asked if I was bipolar because I was into her on Monday but by Friday I had figured out that she was too demanding.
But those words, that question... it seeped into my soul and tarnished my tho...
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"ARLO PEERS!" The name struck me like lightening. He caused chaos up the school hallway. "Skateboards are for outside use only!" One of the teaching assistants bellowed after him.
"Woah!" "Ahh!" "Shit look out!" "Watch it!"
I turned the combination wheel of my locker, ignoring the sounds of hard plastic wheels against the glossy floor and how it appeared to be getting closer and closer.
My heart thudded inside my chest and I squinted as the bright red paint of my locker glared back at me under the cheap fluorescence. A wave of fruity soap whooshed by and he banged his foot down on the floor, grabbing hold of a Bart Simpson skateboard.
"You got a slingshot tucked away somewhere as well?" I joked awkwardly, although I could feel my stomach doing flips.
"My soccer jersey." He muttered, sounding less than pleased. "I need it back for tonights game. You've had it a week, what's taking so long?"
I've been wearing it every night and I don't want to give up the last remaining fragment of our friendship?
"Here." I handed it over folded and he eyeballed it.
"Did you wash it?" He smelt it and my face flushed.
"Uh, no I didn't have time." He pulled it back from his nose, his anger dwindling to a low boil.
"It smells like you." He spoke quietly.
"Is that a bad thing?" He sucked in his lower lip.
"To stink like a girl when I'm supposed to be out there on the pitch all macho, intimidating and stuff, yes." He dropped his arm down by his side, still holding the jersey crumpled up in his palm.
"I'm sorry." I admitted and truer words haven't been more spoken.
I was sorry for everything. For pushing him away. For lying to him about not drinking. For saying what I said. For feeling regretful and guilty. For not calling him when I got home that night feeling hopeless, worthless and terrified of being left alone with my own thoughts and a single sharp blade.
"Feeling charitable today Arlo?" A skinny girl narrowed her eyes at me behind circular framed glasses. I didn't know who she was but she had a turned up nose and for that reason she appeared like a snooty little bitch.
Arlo smirked, but not at me this time. At her. Jealousy exploded within me like a war bomb. He draped his arm over her shoulder.
"Just getting my stuff back from Fearne. You know how it is, if it looks like a thief and acts like a thief, it's probably a foster kid."
His words were sharp and painful, stabbed me directly in the gut. She laughed bitterly and he tossed the soccer jersey over his shoulder before walking his newest friend the opposite way.
