"We're born alone, we live alone, we die alone. Only through our love and friendship can we create the illusion for the moment that we're not alone."

~ Orson Welles

***

It turns out that this Monday was meant to be just as shitty as the rest of them.

After getting stuck in morning traffic and being late for the bell, causing me to lose my alone time in the library I usually spare for myself in the morning, I found that my grade in Sports Lit had dropped in spite of my attempts to pull it up to a B to please my parents. On top of that, Hayden is nowhere to be found and Abbie stayed home because she'd been having multiple anxiety attacks hourly during the weekend. And so I'm stuck here with Ames and Caitlyn. Not that that is bad or anything, but the only classes I share with them are AP Lit and Economics, meaning that I'm by myself for most of the school day...

Hypothetically speaking.

Sports Lit and Anatomy go by slowly and might I add, agonizingly. Don't get me wrong, my Anatomy teacher is cool. Ms. Jones is one of the youngest teachers here and she graduated from the University of Nevada, Reno last year and ended up in this crap city. She teaches multiple science related classes a day, like Biology, Botany, Chemistry, Health Ed and Anatomy. I'm in both her Anatomy and Chemistry which is my sixth period. Ms. Jones is the one teacher that everyone loves because of her lightheartedness and her positivity. She's really hip and has brown hair she puts in a ponytail and likes to put blue and green highlights in occasionally. She wears fun graphic tees underneath the white lab coat she wears all the time. Most of the junior and senior boys have a crush on her which I and many other girls my age find disgusting. At least Ms. Jones isn't as gullible as this one teacher we had back in my freshman year. She was about the same age as Ms. Jones is now and liked to hook up with students who were dumb enough to have affairs with her, which is how she ended up getting fired.

Ms. Jones is in a less positive mood than normal this morning. Not only do I know this by her lack of funny making up of words like "microscopify" and "vocabulate" but also by the amount of worksheets she assigned to us over the course of a forty-six minute class period.

AP Lit finally rolls around and though I'm excited to continue reading Hamlet, the teacher is ridiculous and I share the class with a bunch of people I absolutely hate. Call me a bitch but I already know that.

When you're an eighth grader back in middle school, if the English teacher finds you "smart enough" she has to sign a paper recommending you for Honors English in your freshman year at high school. From there you go to Honors English II then to AP Literature as a senior. You only need three English credits to graduate our high school, so the system works out according to those standards.

Mrs. Galvin has been my teacher for all three years. She teaches all three classes in different periods of the day along with Creative Writing which I took in junior year, Student Leadership, and Journalism. There are two other English teachers in this school who do the same thing but Mrs. Galvin teaches all the honors classes so circumstantially, I ended up with her when I came in from middle school.

"Good morning, Colby," She greets me as I approach the door which she is holding open for students. Mrs. Galvin has always favored me. Maybe because I actually enjoy writing and reading books or because I don't act completely retarded during class time and get my work done. Whatever it is, it's done wonders for me during the past three and a half years.

"Morning," I reply and I enter the classroom. My seat is located at the back of the room in the far corner, right underneath the line of prison-like windows that let in little light to the white tiled classroom. Unfortunately, we were assigned a seating chart at the beginning of the second semester, so naturally I was crammed between the two biggest assholes in my class who could kill themselves by jumping from their egos.

Jackson Scott. Known as the star RB for the school football team and even more so as the walking orgasm of South High. A black-haired, green-eyed sex monster and the on and off boyfriend of the one and only Shelby Rivers who is apparently intelligent and qualified for AP Lit.

Then there's Connor Gibson who sits in front of me. Dark blond hair like mine, hazel eyes and the most beautiful, built, and sexy offensive lineman on the football team and the pitcher for varsity baseball. Mostly known for throwing "the sickest parties" in this part of town and being a beast in bed. Together, Connor and Jackson make up the dramatic duo of the popular crowd. Most know them as what I described them by. I know them for being Jason's friends.

"Hey Bee," Jackson says to me, knowing how much I hate that nickname, as I sit  down in my seat next to him.

"Hi." I reply curtly and I pull out my Hamlet book.

"How was your weekend?"

I sigh inwardly, quite annoyed, knowing that the only reason he cares is because he wants to get in bed with Hayden for a night or two.

I'm debating on whether or not telling him that she's hooked up with a college guy when an all too familiar voice interrupts,

"Hey Little Miss."

Immediately my heart ceases to pulse and I have to coach myself back into being able to breathe. Jesus, Cole. Get yourself together. I pretend to be very interested in Hamlet as the boys converse.

"Wow Tommy," Connor says with a boyish chuckle. "Couldn't even find her a new nickname?"

"Don't be surprised," Jackson says. "Old Tom has always liked Jason's nicknames."

I hear Mac laugh a little bit and I force down a choke. No I'm not going to do this here. Not now.

"Hey whatever happened to you and Jason anyway?" Connor asks and a feeling of dread rushes through me when I realize who he's talking to. I purse my lips shut and continue "reading", even though I feel like my gut is being torn apart with an automatic.

My phone buzzes and I pick it up, grateful for a distraction.

Mac:
Don't answer them. It's pointless.

I resist the urge to look at Mac and I put down my phone. Calm down Cole. Calm down.

"They broke up if you missed it for the last year and a half." Mac spits, but not too venomously as to come off more than behaving like a teenage boy. I breathe a sigh of relief and I silently thank God for Mac.

"No but like why?" Jackson pushes and Mac immediately shuts both of them down,

"Does it really matter to you? Cause if you're doing all this shit just to get her attention, I request you pop the question now and save her the trouble."

Jackson and Connor are silent. I feel myself redden at Mac's sudden protectiveness over me. The tardy bell rings and I hear Mrs. Galvin enter the room with a clap of her hands and a loud,

"All right please take out your Hamlet and let's get going!"

Jackson and Connor and the rest of the class sit down in their seats and the sounds of rustling of papers being turned and books slamming on desks fills the room. Not but moments later there's a tug on the hem of my shirt, making me jump.

"Come to lunch with me?" His voice gently whispers against my ear and causes me to shiver. "Hayden and Lucas agreed to meet us at Chevron."

His voice is smooth like honey and just as sticky as it rings in my ears and makes me long for him to speak again. With every brush of his mouth against my hair and cheek I have to force myself to not turn around and do God knows what. Oh no...

"Sure," I manage to say in a choked voice.

Then the unspeakable happens as he leans over and kisses me on the cheek, his lips brushing the corner of my mouth, then leaves me sitting in utter shock when he walks away.

***

I texted Mac before lunch, telling him to meet me out at my car, then telling him its location. I'm leaning up against the side of it right now waiting for him and scrolling through my Instagram feed. God why is he taking so long? I'm starving. I sigh and continue scrolling through the pictures, but stop when I see a picture of Hayden and Lucas, Lucas's face nuzzled up in Hayden's neck and Hayden smiling modestly as she takes the picture. The caption of the photo says:

Had a great weekend with this stud, can't wait for the years to come @lukeskywalkerthethird😘❤

I should have known. Should have known that the reason why Hayden didn't come to school was because of something else, someone else.

"Where'd you get this car, the antique store?" Says someone as he bangs the hood of the car, causing me to jump.

Mac Thompson. Who else?

He smiles at me and he pulls on a gray beanie over his charcoal black hair. I click off my phone and open the door to the driver seat, swinging myself in and starting up the car.

"It was my great aunt's back in the 90s. She let me buy it for cheap and my dad fixed it up when we brought it back home from San Jose after she died." I answer him. Mac sits down in the passenger seat and not a minute later, I'm pulling out of the school parking lot.

I have one of my Fall Out Boy albums playing as we weave our way through town to the Chevron Hayden and Lucas are supposed to meet us at. Jason isn't the only one who is proud of his car speakers. My dad helped me install the subwoofers last year. They were high-class and it took me two years to save up to buy them. It's the same sound as in Jason's truck, but I know he didn't work for them or install them himself. No his parents hired some poor sap to do it for him.

"...Heavy metal, rock my heart,
Come on, come on and let me in,
I'm cruisin' on your thighs, leave my fingerprints,
And this is for tonight,
I thought that you would feel,
I never meant for you to fix yourself..."

I find myself humming the first verse but when the chorus starts playing, I seem to forget Mac is sitting next to me and the windows are wide open. I sing. And I guarantee you I sound awful.

I can feel Mac's ice blue eyes glued to me but I don't care. This was my anger song after the Seven Days in Hell as I refer to it now, it's gotten me through a lot. I don't care if someone thinks I'm odd for singing it out at the top of my lungs, even if I do sound like a cow getting butchered. This is more than just a song. It's an old friend of mine. It was a shoulder to cry on when I was too afraid to tell anybody what was happening during those seven awful days. Kiss my ass anyone who thinks what I'm doing is stupid. They don't know me or what this song means to me as a person. For all I care, they can go to hell.

"Wow," Mac says and it's only then do I realize that I've been talking aloud. I nervously look over at him and an awe-inspiring expression fills his face. I bite my lip. God dammit I did it again.

"W-what?" I stutter as I take a left at a green light. Mac just shakes his head, a smile spread across his lips. I purse mine in embarrassment. "What?"

Mac's eyes twinkle like a star studded sky and I can hear him let out a short sigh.

"Nothing," he answers but he doesn't take his eyes off me. "You're just so beautiful."

I blush.