Restart - An Original Novella

Chapter II {Melophobia} Part 2

I'm walking home from school with Michael. I don't tell him about my cruddy day, but I can tell he knows it wasn't exactly the best by the looks he's giving me.

"What do you want for your birthday?" he asks me.

"Are you kidding? You got me a guitar. A guitar! You literally can't give me a better gift if you tried."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure. Okay, Michael?"

"Okay..."

"Michael. I have a question for you. Why do you always think you're not good enough? You're super popular, everyone likes you, what could be better? Honestly, you don't even need me."

His unnecessary kindness somehow makes me angry. Why should he be nice to me? Why can't the teachers be more considerate? Why does his opinion matter?

What am I saying? At the back of my mind, an alert turns on, but I don't care. My mouth is still moving, spilling out my thoughts.

"Why do you hang out with me? I'm not cool, I'm not nice, I'm not especially pretty or anything, I'm not one of the many girls who have a crush on you! I'm not even in your grade! You could've gotten anyone to be friends with, and you picked a nobody girl — me! I feel like sometimes everyone in school is competing with me, vying for your attention, and in return, they treat me like...like...like garbage." I'm glad I don't say the word they really treat me like out loud, but still, I can't believe I've ranted like that.

I don't know why I feel naturally disagreeable right now. I'm not sure if it's only me, but I've noticed Michael's been acting different these days. Every passing moment seems fleeting between us, as if we can't grasp the appreciative feeling we had for each other before...before...I'm not sure what. It's like something important has happened, but I don't know what it is, and that really unnerves me.

I look down, down, down, wishing I could sink into the ground, as the scope of what I've just said hits me. "Michael..." I am so ashamed of myself. There's no way I can look him in the eye after saying these things. I guess I've just been tired of holding it in for so long, and I've just let it all out.

Causing problems, as usual. Why can't I just fade out of existence?

I gather the courage to look up at him, which is just about the most severe punishment I could give myself, and his dark green eyes catch mine. There's an odd look on his face that I can't really decipher. It looks like he's making a choice about something, but what could it be? He must be rethinking his decision about being my friend.

"I'm so sorry, Michael. I didn't mean that—" I choke on my words, squirming under his intense gaze, biting my bottom lip. He doesn't seem mad at me, which makes me brace myself, though I don't know why.

"You don't want me to be friends with me, then?" He asks it like it's a genuine question, without any trace of sarcasm or anger. My chest twinges. If only he were angry at me, and it would be so much easier to walk away from him in this moment. Instead of standing on the sidewalk like a dork, wishing I could eat my words back, wondering why he's so patient. I try to ignore the fact that he isn't standing still, that he's tap tap tapping his foot and flexing his fingers.

I try to open my mouth to say something, but I'm stopped by his smile.

He's smiling?

And now he's pulling me into a hug. I'm stiff at first, but then I hear him tell me it's okay. I can feel the comforting vibrations of his speech in my ear. I breathe in deeply, trying to clear my head, forgetting everything in his cinnamon-spearmint scent. I feel a headache coming on. This day has just been too much. Birthdays are supposed to be better than this.