Leaves, Seasons, and Dead Trees (BxB)

15. - Period(ic) Adult-Sitting

"And I'm glad you got away
But I'm still stuck out here
My clothes are soaking wet from your brother's tears"

- "Poison Oak" by Bright Eyes -

*****

Samuel

The last time I saw Stacy was during my final freshman period in high school — a time when Tyson and I were on shaky terms.

Back then, Stacy was just a 7th grader, and our encounters, even before my freshman year, were few and far between. Tyson and I kept our family dramas under wraps from each other, only revealing morsels when necessary. Our rendezvous occurred sporadically, always somewhere in the middle.

While the gossip mill churned out tales of my tumultuous home life in the school corridors, Tyson's parents remained an enigma. They put on a show of normalcy outside their home's walls, keeping their reputation intact. And to be fair, they weren't secretly vile monsters disguised in glam attires and elegant manners.

But behind the adored facade, they were a troubled pair. As Tyson's ex-best friend, that much was clear.

Even on the rare occasions when I set foot in Tyson's spacious home, the most lasting memory of me entering his suburban life was when Tyson ushered me not to enter his house. I remember hearing his mom crying in the background as the two of us headed out to the park.

That rift happened a good two years before he decided to end our friendship, right after he joined the football team and found himself a new clique. I'm not saying that popularity turned his head. If anything, I'm certain he genuinely bought into the idea that I ruined his prized varsity jacket. It was just a convenient excuse for him to toss me aside without even hearing me out. And I? I let it happen that way.

It's not that I go around pegging jocks as just jocks, but my hands-on experiences with them haven't exactly proven otherwise.

If I were in his shoes, I'd probably swallow those lies too, hook, line, and sinker. Besides, I didn't exactly put up a fight to defend myself. I didn't even pull him aside for a chat. I just sucked it all up. For me, it's easier that way.

Even when that sneaky gator who framed me, Jeb, came clean about his little scheme, I was still left standing there, powerless. By then, the whole student body had already latched onto those rumors about my supposed wrongdoings, all fueled by the whispers about my family situation.

The damage was done, salt rubbed right into the wound, and all I could do was grit my fangs and bear the fallout.

Now, the current weight on my shoulders is the stark realization that the free tampons in the ladies' room have dried up at the precise moment Stacy's in dire need. Caught in a whirlwind of decisions, I find myself stuck between tampon options as Stacy's impatience grows louder behind the stall door, goading at me to hurry up from the text.

After shooting her a quick text for guidance, she advises me to grab anything unscented. I ask her if Tampax is acceptable, and she gives me a green light. Eight bucks lighter, I swallow the judgmental stare of the young ewe cashier, feeling every ounce of scrutiny, before making my way back to the ladies' room within the store.

With a hesitant rap on the metal door, I announce my presence, making sure my voice carries but doesn't echo too loudly. "Is anyone else in there?"

"No, you're good!" Stacy's voice bounces back. Sneaking a cautious glance left and right to dodge any awkward run-ins, I slip into the restroom and head toward the stall she's holed up in. Standing before it, I plop the box of tampons on the floor and nudge it her way gently with the tip of my shoe.