Apricity

32 ❥ It Matters

I go with a button-up blouse today. It was pink and slightly low cut so I could show off my necklaces. Long-sleeved, of course, because the bruise on my forearm was becoming that ugly healing color so it looked darker today.

I adjust the buttons at the end of the sleeves so that they're secure and nudge my feet into the white slip-ons that Gina let me borrow for the day.

I try to put on as little concealer as possible. Just enough to cover my dark circles but not too much where it appears thick and cakey. Sleep hasn't been coming easy these past few nights and I didn't want it to show.

I get to school a little later than I normally do. In the weeks that have passed it seems to me that a lot of people have moved on to ignoring me. I liked that better than the alternative. It wasn't perfect yet, but maybe it was getting there.

On my way to English class, my mind wanders over the presentation Roman and I are about to present when someone shoves into me from the side. I hear something small clatter on the ground, something very light and barely audible. But when I look down at the floor, I see nothing. I check my bag and my books but nothing seems to be missing.

Mrs. Jericho does her quick daily intro and announces the first few groups that will present.  Before I worry about Roman's attendance, he comes in before the second group finishes.

He leans down close to my ear before he sits down completely. "We need to talk."

I turn to face him and observe his pensive stare. He obviously wanted to talk about last night, there was no doubt about that. I didn't want to anymore. Not right now, because I had too many emotions building up lately and the last thing I wanted was to completely trauma dump on him.

"Roman and Briar, you're up," Mrs. Jericho announced. This presentation was one thing I was ready to get over with.

When Roman and I make it to the front of the classroom, the projector suddenly shuts off. It flickers back on but then goes dead again.

"Oh shoot, Briar dear, do you mind reaching under the desk and adjusting the plug? It happens all the time."

"Sure." I get closer to the desk and grip the edge with one arm so I can crouch down and stretch to the plug instead of crawling to it.

"Roman, you can go ahead and set up on the monitor," I hear Mrs. Jericho from behind the desk. Half the class has started side conversations as we try to set up.

I give the plug a sturdy shove so that it's secure in place and pop my head back up from under the table. Roman still hasn't moved to set up and remains standing on the side.

I wonder why he froze and that's the exact moment I feel it. I feel the open air on my arm. My mind connects to the small clatter I heard in the hallway. It must have been the button that secured my sleeve around my wrist. My arm was risen when I was crouching under the desk, the sleeve dropping all the way down to my elbow.