I hobble into school on Thursday, spotting my group of friends hovering near my locker. A sense of relief washes over me knowing that they're waiting for me. Over the past few days, I've started to feel as though they're slipping away. Well, except for Dillon. Even though Dillon abandoned me last night for a hike in the woods, I could tell the decision tore him up. Unfortunately, he's never really been one to back out of something once he's agreed to it, and he'd already agreed to the hike before he came to see me.

It's the rest of them I worry about—Drew, Clarice, and Penny. They're the ones who can't seem to put their lives on pause for even a moment. It's like an addiction. They have to feed the need for adrenaline and the ugliness of my life doesn't matter. I'm not sure if they're just ignoring how traumatic this is for me, or if they honestly don't even realize it, but either way, it hurts.

And, gosh, dang it, I hate how pitiful I sound.

Clarice waves me over the moment she spots me. Thankfully, she hasn't started treating me like a leprosy victim like Penny and Drew have. Actually, that's a little dramatic. Nobody has been treating me poorly; they've just been treating me differently. Honestly, I'm not sure which is worse.

"Morning," I greet, sidling up next to Clarice and resting my body weight on my crutches.

"We missed you last night," she says, her voice soft with concern.

I sense that she's afraid I might blow up on her for enjoying an evening in nature without me. And, truth be told, I sort of want to. I've got this box of pent-up rage and self-pity that I just want to unleash on everyone, but instead, I paint on a smile and shake her concern away.

"It's fine," I tell her. "I was pretty exhausted anyway."

Her smile is all the response I need. From that, I can see the doubt leave her body and her normal, bubbly self take over. With just a few words, I've righted her entire world. Guilt has vanished and she can carry on with life without a single burden on her shoulders.

If only it was that easy for me.

If only someone could murmur sweet premonitions in my ear, assuring me that things will be perfectly fine. If only I had someone who would look at me with promise rather than pity. Instead, I've got four friends who try a little too hard to make me feel normal when what I really need is for someone to accept me as the new freak that I am. Normal doesn't exist for me anymore, and I wish they understood that.

We chatter about nonsense until the bell signals us to class. Not bothering with my textbooks, I begin the slow journey across school. Teachers have been lenient about my tardiness, and I've started to take full advantage. It's the only upside of my condition, so why not?

Creeping my way down the hall, my eyes snag on a certain black-haired, brown-skinned girl. I watch her stuff books into her locker, flinging her hair off her shoulder as she slips her backpack in place. Spinning on her heels, her eyes widen when they find mine on her.

"Hi," she says, her smile faltering when I don't respond.

It's not that I'm trying to be a complete jerk. Actually, I've been working on my attitude towards her. I don't make plans to treat her horribly every day, but there's just something about her that triggers the ugly side of me. I tell myself every morning that I'll do better; that I'll smile at her or greet her properly, and then that moment arrives and my chest squeezes all my good intentions right into oblivion.

"You know what?" she says, jogging slightly to catch up with my retreating form. "You should really work on that smile of yours."

There's no bitterness in her words, just simple observation. But somehow, her request irritates me.

"Oh yeah?" I bite out, the rubber padding on my crutches squeaking across the linoleum floors.

"Yeah," she nods, a strange bounce in her step causing me to pause and turn towards her.

"Are you trying to annoy me?" I ask, taking in her smile with a scowl of my own. "Because it's working."

She sighs, adjusting the straps on her bag as her eyes fall to her feet. I feel a twinge of something uninvited prick at my chest, but I shove it away. I refuse to feel bad... I refuse, I refuse, I refuse.

I keep repeating the words in my head, trying to convince myself of a truth that doesn't exist. Honestly, I feel bad. Really bad. But I'm too stubborn to admit that I'm wrong.

If I'm being honest, I can't even say I'm mad at Lynn anymore. I'm over all that drama about her abandoning me to my little lonesome all those years ago. It was a petty reason to hate her anyway. Truth is, I think I'm more angry at myself. I'm angry at myself because every time she's near, I want to absorb her joy and I want to apologize and put all this mess behind us. And then I'm actually faced with the decision to play nice or be a moron, I choose the latter.

Every time a moment presents itself, all my good intentions vanish. Instead, I find myself angry at her for having so much joy. I'm furious that she's got this perfect, flawless life that she seems to enjoy flaunting in front of me.

That smile—that stupid, infuriating, beautiful smile. It makes me sick.

"Listen," she says, pulling my thoughts away from my own bitterness when I hear the genuineness of her tone. "You can't stand me. I get it. But, whether you like it or not, I'm here. I'm gonna remain here until you get your crap together and figure out that you need me."

I scoff, but she ignores me.

"I'm not trying to be some saint by taking you under my wing," she tells me, disgust woven into her expression at the very idea. "I actually care about you. You're life sucks and because I still consider you a friend—a good friend—I want to help you get through it. So," she places her hands on her hips and cocks her head to the side as she levels her gaze at me, "choose to hate me—whatever—but just know, when you finally do get your arrogant head screwed on straight, I'll still be here."

I have no response. Her blunt affection mixed with her forceful anger has me speechless, and I can't deny that a part of me likes it. I like the girl she's grown to be. She's not a child who cowers at negative feedback or harsh stares anymore. No, she's confident, even if she still carries a hint of the shy girl she once was. She's got some guts and I find that... attractive?

I could smack myself for having such a ludicrous thought. Attractive? Come on. Sure, she's got looks that every guy in school has probably noticed, but that doesn't mean I have any interest. Attraction is nowhere near affection because the level of desire that I hold for Lynn Sodawaan is zero.

Z-e-r-o

"Welp," I say when she just continues to look at me, waiting for a response, "good chat. I'll see you later."

I start to shuffle away, but her growl of frustration halts me.

"I freakin' love you, Jamie," she says, matter-of-factly and my heart constricts, "but I swear, you keep treating me like a sack of crap and I might just slap some sense into you."

And then, with an innocently sweet smile, she pivots on her heels and stalks away, leaving me speechless once again.

Her words replay through my mind all day.

I love you, Jamie...

I love you, Jamie...

I love you...

And somehow, I can't get myself to understand the actual meaning of her words. She wasn't telling me she loved me. Not in that kind of way. She was simply stating her love for a friend. But somehow, it doesn't matter what my mind keeps telling me because my heart won't listen.

Why does that one word cause an uproar within me? It's not even a pleasant uproar. It's not the feeling of bliss that courses through a person who yearns to be loved by a certain someone. No, the uproar raging inside of me from her simple statement is more along the lines of, 'how in the heck could you possibly love me?'

I'm all kinds of confused and that confusion is pissing me off. I've been nothing but horrible to her. Why would she ever feel the need to remain by my side after the things I've said to her?

Again, another wave of guilt beings to eat at me like rust to an old pipe. Eventually, that guilt is going to weaken me until I bend to Lynn's desires. I'm not looking forward to that day, because that will mean that she's won, and plainly put, I don't like losing.

But then there's another side of me—a dreaming, pathetic side of me—that can hardly wait until I put up my white flag and surrender to her. The stress of hating her is growing to be too overwhelming and though I don't like the idea of giving up these knots of bitterness towards her, I'm definitely ready to smooth out the tension between us.

Maybe it's time.

Maybe...

Only, that maybe turns into a solid 'no' the very next day when Lynn joins my table for lunch. Clarice welcomes her like a mother hen and the two of them chatter like old friends. The sight makes my gut churn and I curl my fists into tight balls around my silverware as I shovel food into my mouth.

It's like she's trying to force her way into my life. If she knew me at all, she'd know that I don't like to be forced into doing anything. If I decide to agree to something, it'll be because I made the decision entirely on my own. Watching Lynn worm her way into my friend group is her way of proclaiming that what I want doesn't matter.

It's not that I'm stingy about sharing my friends. That'd be insane. My friends can be friends with whomever they want, but Lynn's actions somehow feel threatening and I'm not sure why. She keeps glancing at me while Clarice talks to her, and each glance is like a punch to my gut. She's mocking me, telling me that she's here to stay.

I feel like I'm being haunted... only the spirit obsessing over me isn't dead or spooky. Instead, she's alive, and real, and stunning.

When she suddenly laughs, the sound grates my nerves so harshly that I find myself pushing back my chair, plucking my crutches from where they lay up against the table, and exiting the cafeteria like a man whose lunch is about to make a second appearance on the floor.

I don't get far before I hear her small voice behind me. I don't turn, anxious to make it to the men's bathroom before she reaches me, but I'm not so lucky.

Darn crutches.

"Hey," she says, her small hand sliding around my bicep and halting me instantly. "What's the matter?"

"You are!" I nearly yell, my head swiveling around to lock her in a tense glare. "All I want—all I ask for—is some peace and quiet."

"Okay—?"

"Away from you," I cut in. "You're like a little tornado that won't leave me alone. Every time you're around, I want to pull my hair out or scream. I want—"

"Then do it."

Her words freeze the next insult right on the tip of my tongue, and I tilt my head at her in confused surprise.

"What?" I balk, straightening as I take in the confidence in her short stature.

"Then. Do. It." She enunciates each word, and each word is like a punch to my conscience, striking me with the seriousness of her statement.

"I won't break," she tells me. "And I might be the only person willing to tolerate it, so if you've got things you need to say, feelings you need to scream, then do it."

And just like yesterday, she's pivoting on her heel and leaving me in a cloud of absolute astonishment.

---

Okay, who kinda loves Lynn's bold outspokenness? I personally think she's pretty great. Lol (even though I created her. Hahahaha) :p

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Enjoy!!