Would You Dream Forever?

[10]

Chapter Ten

JANICE'S P.O.V.

I SEE HIM!!!

THERE!!!

I dash over to him, my legs going as fast as I could. I need to stop him.

I can't let him walk away again.

I don't think about the awkward conversation we are going to have, or what I'm going to say; just keep running towards him.

He's sauntering away, towards the main gate, and I can hear sobs coming from him.

I pant, hard, and finally manage to catch up with him.

"STOP!!!" I scream at him, exhausted, and he jumps in fright.

"We need to solve this problem."

"Another day." He says, looking away.

"Now. When I say now I mean it. Now. N-o-w." I say slowly, emphasizing each word.

Then we stare at each other, wordless, leaving an awkward silence.

I SHOULD HAVE THOUGHT ABOUT THIS!!! I scream in my mind.

I bite my lip and he swallows.

This is extremely awkward.

How to start a conversation!??

Um I am NOT a conversation person.

Well, is anyone?

Focus, Janice.

"So..." I begin, trying to get him to talk.

He looks at the floor, fidgeting.

"I bet you hate me now..." he murmurs, shuffling his feet.

I swallow. He looks so handsome, and nice looking, and I made him feel bad.

Tears threaten to gather.

I don't know why he keeps insisting on me. I'm not nice looking, beautiful and perfect, nice and graceful, always flawless.

There are girls that are like that.

They're called cheerleaders. The sexy girls with long blonde hair, so much skin shown and flirting with him... and he doesn't bat an eyelid. But he gapes at me when I go out with him.

I don't know why.

I'm not good, not pretty, not lovely, not anything.

I, in fact, am a very very broken girl. Nothing compared to the populars that want to date him.

I sigh, tears now pooling in my eyes. Does he love me that much? Or is he just faking?

I face him, determined to know whether he loves me or not.

I open my mouth, but no words come out. A sob escapes, and I cover my hand over my mouth.

I swallow and try again. "D-do y..."

I can't do it. I can't. I can't. Useless me. I can't.

I'm not good enough for him. I'm worthless.

I sob again, loudly, and look up at him through my tears.

Then I run off, crying, feeling even worse.

My father's words come back to me, wave after wave.

Pathetic.

Useless.

Worthless.

Stupid.

Nothing.

That's what I am.

Nothing.