"Thank you for loving me."
❀
No one would think that the Davy Wade would die, much less, kill himself.
He was the epitome of a good person. Some even thought he was the second coming of Christ. But when the shock and confusion of Davy's suicide co...
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t h e p r o b l e m w i t h d a v y
10
I was eating lunch on the school's roof for the past week. Partly because I didn't want to see any of the students (and some teachers) that would rather trade my life in exchange for Davy's, and partly because I liked the roof. It was one of the warmer days, considering that the weather here was always cold even when it is supposed to be spring. But it enough so that a sweater, jacket, and jeans would suffice. I sat by some big metal vent, and watched the wind glide across the trees. I popped a chocolate chip and a pretzel in my mouth when the sound of the roof access door squeaked open. My first instinct was to avoid whoever was up here at all costs, students and teachers alike. Though the bright pink fuzz in my peripheral vision calmed my nerves.
"You dyed your hair again," I stated, deciding not to ask.
"Brighter of course," Cara winked down at me. It took me a moment to take her all in. Besides her neon pink hair being untamed, she was wearing stripped leggings, and a solid purple sweatshirt. Her shoes consisted of white converse, tainted with colorful pens and stickers. She stood above me as if she had a plan, or maybe all the answers. Either way, she seemed determined.
"So this is where you come to hide?" She said, looking around as if I invited her into my house.
"I'm not hiding..." I mumbled. She laughed, and walked toward the stone bannister of the school's roof.
"Then what do you call eating lunch on the school roof all alone?" She turned her head back to me, waiting for me to answer.
"Alone time," I shrugged, popping another chocolate chip and pretzel into my mouth. She sighed and turned her head back around to face the landscape. She didn't talk for a while. All she did was stare out towards to horizon. I kept my eyes on her, afraid that if I didn't, she would jump. Instead, she turned around and leaned against the ledge. "Why do you dye your hair pink?" I asked suddenly. She played with her ends and smiled like a cheshire cat.
"I like the color pink. Reminds me of cotton candy," she laughed. "My mom hates it though. I mean, she hates everything anyway. Even cotton candy! What kind of human being hates fluff made out of sugar? She's a demon... I'm convinced," her tone grew quiet, and we both suddenly felt unsettled.
"My mom's a pharmacist. She's kind of like that with most things too, since she's a health freak. I never had cotton candy actually," I added. Her face dropped and she ran over to me in less than a second.
"Are you fucking insane? Cotton candy is a gift from the gods, and you haven't even had a little?" She put one hand on her heart, and one on my shoulder. "I think you broke my heart," I rolled my eyes at her dramatics.
