Bite Me

A double update? Who even am I?

     I looked horrible; I didn't need to be told that. Effort was the last thing on my mind that morning. All I could think about was getting through the school day and avoiding Mason as much as I possibly could.

"You look like shit," Annabella Versace pointed out. I groaned.

"Get in the car," I grumbled, climbing into the driver's seat. She was quiet for the remainder of the ride.

"What's up with you?" She asked when we arrived at the school parking lot. "You're making me worry."

Instead of responding, I left the car and began walking toward the front entrance; I didn't care if she was following or not. I didn't care about anything. Her voice followed me, calling my name, but I let myself get lost in the crowd, becoming just another blank face in a group of hundreds.

The first bell rang, signaling the start of the school day. I desperately wanted to skip first period, but what was the point? One way or another, I would have to face Mason eventually. I just had to hope that I wouldn't shatter in his presence; or worse. If when I saw him, I gave into what had to be the strongest temptation I would ever face—if I crumbled and asked for him back, if I got him killed. . .

I couldn't promise myself that neither of those would happen—that I would be strong when I saw his face. I could only hope for the best and brace myself.

So I did. I walked tensely into my art class, half ready to turn on my heels and run back out. When Mason locked eyes with me, I almost did. My feet, however, instead seemed to freeze against the tile floor, and I was stuck.

He looked horrible, worse than me. His skin, usually sun-kissed and practically glowing, was almost ashen in color. Dark shadows circled his eyes. Even his hair seemed somewhat lifeless, falling dull and limp over his forehead.

His eyes, though sad and grey, sparkled with something as he looked at me. A desperate question that I couldn't answer.

Marcella followed Mason's gaze and shot me a look like what the hell did you do? I looked away guiltily.

"Kieran, get to your seat," Mrs. Gotham instructed.

I met her glaring eyes and asked if I could switch seats. She seemed surprised by my sudden request, along with the forty-one students that were shamelessly staring at me. Maybe she saw the plead in my gaze, or maybe she just wanted to stop wasting class time, but either way, she nodded and said, "Pick a seat."

I glanced over the room, avoiding the table in the back where Marcella and Mason sat, watching me intently. There were only a few available spaces, and none of them were near anybody I knew. Then again, I knew like four people, half of whom I was avoiding.

Eventually, I chose a random spot across from two freshmen, who paled significantly when I sat down. It was moments like this when I wondered what exactly people had to think of me to react in such a way. Sure, I wasn't the nicest person, and I didn't try to be. I was known for being snappy and brutally honest to people that weren't my friends. But I'd never done anything to anyone. I'd never hurt or bullied or harassed anybody. Yet students acted as if I was Medusa, and making eye contact with me would turn them to stone. What kind of rumors had been flying around in the years I'd been in school, and how dark was my reputation really?

It wasn't a matter that had bothered me before, because I had Marcella, and for a long time, her opinion was the only one that mattered. Then there was Mason, and Maria, and Annabella. Somehow, I'd gone from somebody that only thought I needed one friend, to a part of a great support system.