I sigh happily, closing my English notebook and quickly opening my text. I cast a small glance towards Avi and Kayla, who seem too preoccupied to notice my presence. I am glad for that. Even if they had tried to speak, I am sure that I won't be. 

It is hard not to replay the big drama that was caused in the canteen. Everytime I think of it, I feel like invisible hands are choking me. The lack of not knowing everything is harder than I would like to admit. I am used to not knowing many things from my childhood, starting right from my parents.  I still don't know many of what happened in my parent's life. My father was busy ninety percent of the time earlier, running around ,picking deals and building his business empire.

Ma was fine, she spoke to me but never about her life. It always used to be and still is about my life. I should take this unawareness of events easily but for some reason I can't. I guess it's because unlike my family, these people I call my friends actually told me things.

They told me their problems, Avi's bullying, everything. But at one point, everything just faded. I am that extra kid that doesn't know stuffs, is completely oblivious to all that is happening. And that popped a nerve in me.

I deserve to know.

I am too engrossed in my thoughts that I don't even realize the teacher calling my name. I immediately stand up, looking around to see if people are staring at me. They do , for a second before averting their gaze. I take a breath and gently step out of my place and tuck the chair in before walking over to her.

She tucks a lone strand behind her ear as she looks at me patiently, folding her arms.
"Yes, ma'am?" I ask, now standing some inches before her. A smile forms on her delicate lips, nodding her head and taking some papers from her desk. She hands those papers to me to which I take.

"That are some articles I had received yesterday. I would like you to check for any errors, big or small and hand it to me. Don't correct the errors on the sheet but instead circle them with a pencil. Put an asterisk, write the correction on this. " Her manicured nail points to the last paper on the bundle. I nod my head.

"I need it before break", she says. I frown, knowing well that there is no free period available before break.

After a second of deciding, I ask her, " Ma'am, there is no free period. Can I submit after break?"

She looks at me quizically again raising a brow in the process. "You have library next,"  she says, pointing to the timetable stuck on the wall behind her. I bite my lip to prevent yelling at her face. Library is not a free period. Being an English teacher, she should know the importance of library. I look at her once again, and instead of yelling, I nod my head, groaning internally and walking to my place.

As soon as I sit down on my place,  I mechanically begin to take the papers one by one and scanning for any errors.   I find myself so engrossed in some articles that I don't even feel the clearing of throat next to me. 

I shrug, not bothering to look at the desperate blonde besides me. I can feel the tension slowing expanding its shadow over us.

"Eline, " I hear her sigh and my stomach knots itself. 

Should I look at her?

Answer her?

I place the paper I previously held on my hands down on the table and take a deep breath.  I hear the shuffling of feet as the bell sharply rings.  The people around me buzz around the classroom,  everyone rushing out to library.  But despite the hazy details my eyes manages to capture,  my gaze is solely focused on the girl I used to call my friend.

"You know you can't keep avoiding me, " she says, holding my chin and lifting my face to meet hers.  I involuntarily scan her face, notice the bags under her eyes and the lack of even some powder on her skin. She looks at me more keenly, wondering what I might be thinking, I suppose.

"Please Eline." She drops my face and stamps her feet childishly, irritation etched onto her face all of a sudden. My father's face flashes in my mind, the bright smile on his visage, the sunny backdrop and the friendly hand over his shoulders. A man of an age younger than he is looks back at the photographer, flashing back an ad-worthy smile that translates into pride...and happiness.

Happiness.

Funny how I bother about others' happiness even being selfish at times.  And that's just what I feel right now.  Selfish.  I don't bother about his stupid contract deal anymore.  I don't want to think about how his business will be spoiled.  I told him that he is better on his own.  I told him that he can run the business all alone.  But he never listened. 

"You need to have some social life. Have some partners in business. Be close with them.  They are powerful, smart.  If there is someone that can help you to success,  it's them", he said,  looking at me all dressed up for school.  I sigh at him, not being able to say anything yet wanting to.  That's  just who I was.  Someone who didn't speak to her parents even when they are wrong.

I don't want to this time as well.  I don't know how I didn't follow Max's footprints.  He didn't listen to anyone.  He followed his heart.  He followed the right.  Followed the wrong.  Yet knew what he was doing at least.  I was a different story.  I guess I just wanted to be that perfect kid that became successful,  became a role model and lived life to their will. 

The irony. 

I am doing anything but living to my will. I can't even choose my friends.  None of this would have happened if I didn't win that cup.  If I didn't win every freaking contest I went to.  I am dubbed as a memory machine.  Someone so extraordinary.  A child prodigy. I finished papers that took hours to complete within a few minutes.  I loved how my face came up in all those papers, how everyone used to look at me in awe. 

Now all I want is to go back and never win those medals.  I loved learning.  But I never knew how much it would cost me.  It fueled my desire to fame,  fueled my pride and ego.  Made me a money making machine.  I went in search for people that helped me to success, even if that meant that they were digging my grave. 

And all for the sake of that unreachable peak.  I don't care anymore about how I will dissapointing my parents anymore. I do not wish to hurt them.  But when their wishes are so high,  the pressure is more and it causes you to blast into a thousand pieces. 

I look back at her with a new engine powering me.  The built up anger, the perfect image is melting away as I stand up in front of her, eyes levelling with hers. 

"I do not want to talk to you, " I say, a smile uncontrollably breaking out.  She looks at me with a new expression, her irritation dissipating into thin air as she steps backward. 

"I do not want to hear your explanations.  I am fed up.  Do you get it?  Just fed up.  I am fed up of being that tag-on.  I am fed up of being with you yet knowing nothing.  Do I even know you? " I point a finger at her,  my voice getting louder and louder. 

"Eline, just list-"

I pause her with my hand. 

"I don't care about you or Jayden or Kayla anymore.  You can live your happy life. After all,  I am the one that is going to get her situation changed,  not you.  Because I was there with you all the time.  You guys were not. I am not blind or naive.  I can very well see all the hints you guys give that screams 'YOU ARE ALONE'.  I know that you know how left out I am.  So let me be.  I am done playing these games.  Don't ever talk to me", I yell,  my voice trembling with anger and my throat feeling painfully dry.  I look into her eyes,  noticing how those perfect features were stained with unshed tears. A sadistic laugh escapes my lips. I was done playing the victim. It's time that I stop pitying myself and faking myself into believing that they were actually my friends.

I always was the one to get attached to someone. That's what makes it so hard for me to forget Max. To forget Chester. To get into a fight with these people I call my friends.

I am just afraid of losing people.

She doesn't reply and instead shuts her eyes.  I always knew her as the cheery friend that doesn't bother about anyone. But all I see now is a broken person  that is just a reflection of what I have spoken.  Reality is harsh.  She knows what's happening.  I know what's happening. The same thing that happened between Max and I is happening right now.  Another relation is broken, but this time it's for good. 

Even if it breaks my heart,  I order my stupid self to listen to my senses this one time.  To follow my gut and lead my direction.  With the silence overbearing us, I manage to capture a small glimpse of her thoughts before she walks away with clenched fists.

"I am sorry," is all she said and that was enough to send chills all through my body.  I know that even though she is sorry for all that she has caused,  there is something more serious behind those words.  And my prediction for that statement is something I don't really want to think about.