Polyphia

J A C K

"You seemed distant today"

"Is something wrong?"

"Over the past few weeks, you've barely texted or called me."

"But when we're together it's as though I'm by myself."

Those sentences were clouding my mind day and night. It was the first thing I thought when I woke up, and the last thing I thought of when I closed my eyes at night. It was like a broken record. I remember staring through the window shield, scared to look at Ashley, knowing that pain filled her eyes.
I couldn't look at her.

Seeing her in pain broke me. Shattered me. Yet, I couldn't help but agree, I was distant. I want to say that school was the obstacle in our relationship, the workload was barely giving me time to rest. But I knew it wasn't true. Over the past few weeks, I've come to the realisation that, even when I had nothing to do, Ashley wasn't my priority; I didn't have the urge to pick up the phone and call her. Whenever we were together, I was constantly checking my phone, waiting for the next hour to fly by to go home.

What on earth was going on with me?

***

I drove in silence as I took Ashley and I to school, parking in our usual spot. We only muttered a 'good morning' and remained silent for the rest of the drive.

As soon as we entered the school building, we were both pulled into our friend groups. It wasn't until the bell rang and everyone dispersed. I couldn't find Ashley within the multitude of people, so, I went to my first class, Sociology.

I arrived a little too late, as all the seats were occupied. All expect one. It didn't surprise me as the person sat next to the empty seat was Camilla. No one wanted to sit next to the Loner. I adjusted my bag and made my way to the seat, avoiding the stares and ignoring the hushed comments.

Camilla had her hoodie on, covering her face. The strands of her chocolate brown hair fell in front of her face as she continued to jot things down on an old notebook. The quicker she wrote; the more strands fell from the hoodie. The chair scraped against the floor as I moved it, causing her to jolt up and close the book. My brows furrowed, confused as to why she was attempting to hide that notebook. However, as I looked at her notebook, I realised that it was placed right against her chest, holding onto it as though her life depended on it. What did not help was the fact that her cleavage was a lot more noticeable, the more she held onto the little black book. Knowing that I was staring at her chest, I immediately looked up, staring right at her face. Her hair strands framed her face, giving her a dishevelled look. Her hoodie was old; so old that it had holes all over the sleeves and its strings were starting to disintegrate. But that wasn't the problem. No. It was the fact that, even though her clothes were ragged, or her hair was dishevelled, he looked good in them.

Too well.

Camilla and I started at each other for a few seconds, before she broke eye contact as she cleared her throat and shifted her body forward and continued to jot down in her book. I somehow struggled to look forward.

Why was that?

Our sociology teacher, Mr Hayes, waltzed into the classroom, placing his usual cup of coffee onto the desk, and leaned against it. He didn't need to demand our attention. He earned it. By just using his presence, we all listened to every single word that came out of his mouth. His lessons were never too long. In fact, they felt too short for my liking. He explained every single theory so easily, it was impossible to not understand them. He would entertain us with anecdotes and past experiences, making us all favour him above every single teacher in this school.