Once You're Gone

'You ain't?'

Alexandra Fisher

          I stomped my feet out of the dorm building and made my way through campus up to the school building. I was still mad at Logan for agreeing to let Trace join us in our walk to my dorm, at my roommate Veronica who didn’t have the decency to wake me up this morning, and, well, I was always mad at Trace.

          I pulled the hood over my head, the rain pelting down on me and drenching me to the bone. I was still wearing my pajamas, only with a hoodie over my top, for I hadn’t been able to change into anything more appropriate. My monkey slippers splashed on the puddles, and I could already feel the cold I was going to get by the end of the day.

          I sniffled. This was all Trace’s fault. If he hadn’t asked to join us, Logan wouldn’t have had to agree. Hell, if he hadn’t been transferred to our school, we wouldn’t have had to deal with his obnoxious self all these years. It was his fault the fact that I couldn’t sleep properly last night because of my mind going on and on about him and my plans on how to get rid of him.

          Suddenly, a chilly breeze wheezed past me, blowing away the loose sheets of paper peeking out of my bag. I stopped dead in my tracks and growled. I then turned around and stomped toward the direction where the papers were. However, every time I reached for one of them, the wind flew by, the soaked papers fluttering in all directions.

          It wasn’t long before I decided to give up on that task and start heading again toward the school, my temper wearing thin second by second. I glared at no one in particular as I pushed the door open, my slippers squeaking with every step I took on the opaque floor.

          I didn’t even bother to get my books for the class, seeing as I was already half class late. I walked up the stairs, leaving a trail of water behind me. As I reached the second floor, I turned to my right, stomping my drenched feet to my advanced chemistry class. Fun.

          Once I got to the door, I raised my fist to knock on the door, but decided against it. Instead, I flung the door open, sending daggers through my eyes to the shocked class until I spotted someone. My eyes narrowed into slits.

          You.

          Trace did a double take at my appearance but then smiled from his seat at the front, oblivious to what was going on inside my head because of him.

          “Ms. Fisher, we’re trying to have a class here, so, if you don’t mind taking a seat right there—“ Mrs. Irving pointed to a seat at the back—“it would be just dandy.” She turned to erase something on the board.

          I glared at her. You do it, I thought, but still did as she said.

          I walked to the back of the classroom, my slippers squeaking water and mud onto the floor. I earned a couple of snorts and giggles from the class, but I decided to ignore them; even I wasn’t in the mood of an argument. Once I sat on an empty seat, I turned my head to glare at the back of Trace’s head, in hopes that it would explode any minute.

*** 

          Finally, my day was getting a bit better. I had managed to ignore Trace and Logan in the classes I had with them as well as in the hallways. As for Veroniqua, as I liked to call her, she was a year younger than me, so I didn’t get to see her that often during class hours.

          I gathered my math books and stood up, moving my now dry body into the hallway. It was already lunch time. Smile. Life is beautiful as fudge.

          “Oh, hello there, Alexandra.” I heard a British accent speaking in a flirty manner from behind me.

          I stopped and puffed air out of my mouth, turning to face a smirking Shane in the process.