Just Another Love Story

Chapter 8

The next morning passes. I go to school, sitting through my classes, not hearing a thing. Sitting coldly with the occasional tear as I relive the last moments with Quincy, trying to see if I could have done anything. I can't think of anything. Other than pretending to be fine.

As lunch comes, I get my meal and sit with the people I normally sit with on days with no school store. They barely notice I'm there other than the occasional weird glance at me. I pick at my food and stare at my phone, looking at pictures of me and Quincy through the years. One of us on the first day of school in eighth grade, another of us trick-or-treating that year (me as a stick of butter and him as toast), having an egg toss competition on thanksgiving (we were weirdos), opening presents to each other on Christmas Eve (we both got each other the makeup I wanted because he was nice and I was selfish. I later had to buy him a real gift with my own money, which was a matching phone case to mine), and many more of us growing up through the years, the last one being the picture of me reading on his shoulder just last week, before everything went wrong.

I feel tears prick my eyes, and I get up to throw away my tray, full of food that I didn't eat. As I come back, I hear all off the girls at my table giggling. I sit down and look at my phone. On it is a notification with a picture from an unknown number. I open it and see a picture of me. It's a crudely photoshopped selfie from my instagram with the words "home wrecker" written across my face with "whore" and "slut" in a border around it.

I stand up from my table and look around the room. Everyone is pointing and laughing at me. There's an anger swelling in me and I suddenly see her. As we make eye contact, she's smirking and waggling her phone at me. I march over to her and she stands up.

"Oh really, I'm the whore, when you spend the night at someone else's house and then get on the bus at Quincy's bus stop? And I'm the slut, when you're making out with that same person in the class your boyfriend is in. It's almost as if you wanted to have this happen. You're so insecure that you feel as if you have to cheat on someone who loved you just to get some attention. If you are ready to dish out these types of insults, you should really look at yourself and make sure you aren't being a hypocrite." I spout out this rebuttal without stuttering once and without shedding a tear, while on the inside it feels as if I've been torn to shreds with no hope of fixing it.

I leave the cafeteria without paying any attention to the hall monitor trying to get me to sign out, yeah right. I push into the bathroom as the tears come.

I never thought in a million years, that I'd be the one that gets blackmailed into dating someone, break up after only dating for a half hour, then get publicly humiliated, confront the one who bullied me, and then knowingly break the rules of not being in the hall with permission. My life has changed so much in the past week, I don't know what's happening.

I stay in the bathroom for the remainder of the lunch period. When I hear the bell ring, people come into the bathroom and I leave to go my locker. While I get all of my materials for my next class, I get a ton of odd looks. Some of awe, for standing up to Samantha, some of disgust, for "going after" someone just after they broke up. I ignore them all and go to my next class.

I'm glad I sit in the back of class, so nobody has a reason to look at me without getting yelled at by the teacher. I take notes, not understanding any of it but just writing down the answers.

As the next class approaches, I start to zone out more and more. The bell rings and I barely notice. I only stand because everyone else does. I walk to German and sit, not hearing anything.

The rest of the day passes like this. I go from class to class, doing what I'm supposed to. I barely make it through the day, and I walk home, not caring about the cold. I just couldn't deal with all the staring, all the chatter. I get home and just lay in bed, not letting anyone in. My mom tries to talk to me, my sister tries to get me to do my work, but nothing will do anything.

At 5:00, I get ready for the date. I put on a dress and put on makeup, making sure to "dress to impress" as Johnathan said. At 5:26, I get in the car and borrow my mom's car to drive to the hospital. It's just over a half hour car ride, so it's exactly six when I show up, and Johnathan is outside, in a suit and tie. I'm glad I chose my dress from freshman year homecoming. It makes us look like the perfect couple, not one that doesn't actually exist.

I get out of the car and walk to him, not bothering to smile. I spot a glimpse of Violet in the window of the waiting room, watching us. I look away from her when we make eye contact. I feel a rush of emotions all of a sudden and I start to cry from it all. All of the stress of having Quincy in the hospital and keeping Johnathan from hurting him. All the sadness of losing an old friend, and a new friend. All the emptiness from the day is crushed in a second. I wipe a tear from my face when I get to the side walk.

"Hello, Marrissa, nice to see you showed up. How about you stop that crying, and we can get on with our date."

"OK." My voice shakes and I clear my voice to try to stop myself from crying. I suddenly wish I was back to the nothingness.

We walk to a red Toyota parked in the reserved for employees spots, and Johnathan opens the door for me. I get in to the passenger side and smooth my dress, focusing on keeping the tears from falling.

On the way there, he plays pop music that normally, I would enjoy, but now it's only giving me a stomach ache. Quincy and I used to listen to this station sometimes on the bus.

We pull into the parking lot of a fancy restaurant that I could normally only dream of going to. I guess that's what happens when you go out with a doctor. My stomach roils at the thought of me going out with Johnathan, but I guess that's what it takes.

We spend the next hour and a half at the restaurant, and I make sure to order the most expensive thing on the menu, and because I'm vegetarian, it was just some pasta thing that I don't eat. Johnathan tries to make small talk, and I try to keep up the conversation, but my brain won't focus on anything for more than a couple seconds. It always goes back to Quincy or Violet.

By the end of the night, I feel so tired. It feels as if by bones are steel and my muscles are almost broken hairbands. My mind is so foggy, I can hardly focus on being polite to him when I leave his car. I try to take deep breaths when I get outside, but it wouldn't move the mind jam that I'm in. It's all I can do to get into my car and sit down without passing out. It's right now that I wish that I still had someone on my side in the hospital, to try to help me, but there's nobody left.

I sit in the car, listening to the mindless babble of the radio hosts until I feel as if I can drive back safely. When I get home, it's nearly 1:00, and I have to be careful not to wake my family.

I take off my makeup and dress and collapse into bed. I fall asleep immediately and do not wake up until 10 the next morning. The house is quiet and I realise that they left me at home, without a car. I guess I'm not going to school today. It's fine though, I wasn't planning on learning anything today anyway.

I spend the rest of the day walking around my house, not thinking of anything, but seemingly everything. At some point I eat a sandwich. It's the first thing I ate in more than a day, but it only made me want to throw it up. But I don't, it's too much effort. It seems like so much easier to lay on the couch and not think. So I do just that. I lay there.

My mom comes home and tries to talk to me, but I don't respond. My sister comes home and sets my bag on my stomach, but I just leave it there. What's the point. As long as Johnathan is happy, Quincy is ok.

I fall asleep that night, with my bag still on me, and I wake up with it on the ground and a blanket replacing it. I guess someone cares about me. As long as Johnathan does, then it's ok. I don't need to have Quincy for him to be happy. What does my happiness matter anyway? As long as others are happy, then its ok.

My mom forces me to go to school, but I feel as I did after the "date" all day long. All week it's the same thing as always. And then on Sunday I have to go on a date with Johnathan again. It goes about the same as last time, with me not doing well, and him acting as if it's all normal.

On monday, I'm so tired. I feel as if I could fall asleep standing up and it's only when the kid next to me nudges me during ninth period that I hear my name getting called. "...Nefario, please come to the guidance office."