skinny || h.s. au [Rewrite Now Up!]

thirtysix

Three days. Homecoming is in three days.

And Marley is slightly terrified.

Because this morning she received a letter in the mail. From her mother. But couldn't get herself to open it.

And because three days. Homecoming is in three days.

Everywhere she looks in the school hallway is a reminder of the event. From posters to streamers in their school colors hanging from the ceiling.

Green and gold should never go together, Maria thinks.

Marley sort of agrees. It's an ugly green, too. Of course all green is ugly if it's not Harry's eyes. Not that she will admit it. But it's true. She finds herself wishing it were lighter and had the depth that reminded her of summer grass and warm breezes as she walks to her locker.

Everyone is dressed in crazy colors with mismatched socks as they yell down the hall to each other.

It's quite obviously spirit week. And Marley is slightly terrified.

Harry finds Marley where he always does. "Hey."

But she doesn't reply. Glances up at the closest person she has to a best friend. And makes a face.

"What?" He asks.

"I hate spirit week." She grumbles as she shuts her locker.

Harry laughs. Because he knows exactly what she means. Tries to make her feel better. "But it means homecoming is coming up."

And Marley is slightly terrified. "Yeah."

Harry thinks about fireflies and crisp mornings as he looks into her eyes. Remembers their camping trip weekend and how it changed them somehow.

Because they say prolonged periods of contact creates a stronger bond within relationships. And Harry can't help but let his mind remember falling asleep next to her in the middle of the woods on a Sunday afternoon.

"It'll be fun." He assures. "And since you wouldn't let me see your dress, I'm personally very excited."

She rolls her eyes. But smiles all the same. Because the boy with the troubled kind of green eyes gives her butterflies and somehow still smells like oak trees despite their camping trip being over a week ago.

"English?" Harry motions his head down the hall. Toward their first class.

"Yeah." Marley says lamely. Because the boy with the troubled kind of green eyes still smells of oak trees despite their camping trip being over a week ago.

And then he takes her hand and the butterflies are back.

Ten fold.

But then again so is the voice in her head that speaks at the worst moments possible.

He's a phony, he's a fake. She sings. It's your heart, he's going to break.

Marley tries not to listen. But slips her hand out of his after a moment because she just can't take the thought that maybe Maria is right.