Smile, Synonym

[6] A Forgotten Soul

Thea hasn't spoken to Fletcher ever since.

In fact, Fletcher hardly saw her nowadays. Sometimes he'd notice her walking down the halls from time to time or seated somewhere in the front during their shared classes, but that was just it, really. Whenever their paths crossed, they walked straight ahead, without any greeting and barely sparing a small glance at each other. It was as if the other person didn't exist.

The only time Fletcher genuinely saw Thea was today at lunchtime.

Their eyes locked as she entered the cafeteria, her hand clutching onto her pre-made lunch. In that brief moment, Thea smiled and was about to head to where Fletcher sat at the far end, almost hidden in plain sight. But then she woke up from her daze and faltered, stopping her tracks right in the middle of the overflowing crowd.

Fletcher saw the lonliness in her eyes and the anxiety that shook her posture. He watched as she took hesitant steps to a table filled with laughter then fall back and she did the same again, when she attempted to walk over to another table.

From where she stood, Thea Banks looked out of place like a piece that couldn't fit into the puzzle. And when she finally realised this, Thea stormed out of the cafeteria without looking back.

But Fletcher didn't flinch, not even a single bit, because, like everyone else, Thea had to deal with her own messes by herself.

—

"Roman Alonso?"

"Present."

Mr. Kinderman, Fletcher's Mathematics teacher, nodded as he checked the attendance list that he had in his hands.

Reading another name from the list, he said, "Thea Banks?"

When no one answered, Mr. Kinderman shook his head and went on.

It wasn't a surprise that Thea didn't come to school. As the weeks shifted, she began to disappear, barely coming to class until she decided she didn't want to go at all.

Sometimes, when Fletched heard her name, he'd see the momentary confusion in some students' eyes, where in that second, it was like Thea Banks didn't exist.

—

The air was heavier than usual the following Monday, yet no seemed to noticed.

Not even when the clouds sobbed recklessly above the sky, which had turned the bitterest shade of grey, as if they were the only ones mourning for a forgotten soul. Or when the thunder began to scream, tearing apart the heavens in the process, demanding the people below them to listen.

Fletcher didn't realise this then, but it was a build up — the moment right before someone pulled the trigger.

His first period was homeroom and Fletcher sat somewhere in the corner, next to window. He could hear the students bickering about their weekends and how some of them pulled an all-nighter, so absorbed in their own little world to regard the look on Mrs. Cuthbert's face when she entered the room.

Perhaps it was only Fletcher who could see this — the wave of disbelief flooding in her blue irises, the sadness dictating her posture, and the undeniable disappointment etched on her lips. What really got everyone's attention was the way she stood in silence, minutes after class started, because if it was any normal day, Mrs. Cuthbert would have been gritting her teeth and commanding them to head back to their original seats.

But not today. This was different.

This was the moment when she would pull the trigger.

"I bare terrible news," she said, her eyes searching for someone in the crowd. "And I am very sorry to report to you all that last night, Thea Banks—" she dragged a heavy breath. "Thea committed suicide and she, um —" she bit her lip and looked down at her fingers, tears forming in her eyes when she realised the person she was looking for wasn't there. Not anymore. Not ever. "She died this morning."

At first, Fletcher didn't react. While everyone else in the room let their thoughts run wild in the uncomfortable stillness, all he could do was stare at the door and imagine Thea's smile. The one she would wear whenever she saw him — or anyone really — before she would wave to Fletcher and walk towards his direction.

Fletcher could hear her laugh ringing in his ears, along with all her attempts to fill in his silence with small talk. He remembered the first time she sat with him at lunch, heading over to his table like it was nothing and humming to herself while she took small bites of her sandwich. He remembered her eagerness when he said he'd come to Brews & Screws with her after school, skipping a little when she walked and talking more about whatever nonsense she could think of than usual. He remembered her persistent want to be his friend — the unlimited amount of sunshine and kindness she gifted Fletcher even when he shunned her down and walked away.

He pictured every angle of her smile, as annoying as they were to him, and thought, no. Thea Banks couldn't be dead. She couldn't have killed herself. Not when she was the splitting image of the sun and spring time — the human definition of happiness and everything in between.

But then again Fletcher remembered the hesitation on her features when he'd asked if she had any other friends. Or the anxiety wrecking her bones when she couldn't find a place to sit in the the cafeteria. He remembered the deep frown carved on her face when he told her they weren't friend and the tears running down her cheeks, which were almost invisible in the rain, as he left her standing alone on the sidewalk, never looking back after that.

In reality, Thea Banks was a sad song that, like everyone else, Fletcher will never get to listen to.