Sparks Reignited

7 | A Friend

Just like how I expected it to happen, it's nearly impossible to avoid bumping into Kyle in school.

Almost every time I pick up my books from the locker, he's there, but we don't talk. With eyes barely meeting mine, he grabs his stuff, shoves the locker like he's hitting a punching bag at the gym, and stomps away. Even when I join my classmates for lunches in the cafeteria, I find him sitting at the tables meant for the most popular kids in school. I see Taylor there too, and he often gives me a friendly wave from across the room.

Of course, Kyle notices this and his scowl deepens.

But he still refuses to look at me.

It's not like we are purposely avoiding each other like the plague. As far as I know, he's refusing to acknowledge my existence, whereas I'm at a constant loss of how to explain things to him when I, myself, do not even know the entire story about my past.

Maybe some things are better off with him not knowing. If my old self has really done him wrong, it's better he hates me and channels his anger towards me instead of others.

On a separate note, the limelight of me being the new girl in school has dimmed. Perhaps because I'm way too quiet, average-looking and always wearing my oversized sweaters and comfy jeans, nobody seems to pay much attention to me. Apart from a couple of classmates who are nice enough to ask me to join them for lunches or group projects, I barely mingle with the rest. I'm content living in my own space and observing people as they busied around me.

I wonder what being normal feels like.

Halfway through Calculus class, I take a quick trip to the toilet. When I push the door open, I skid to a stop. To my discovery, a sound is coming from the end, right down to the last cubicle.

A sob.

It carries on for a few more minutes. I can choose to ignore it, but I decide not to. Whoever is behind that door may need some help, and if I walk away, it will only leave me with a gnawing feeling at the back of my head.

I step closer to the cubicle until I'm facing the door. "Hello?" I call out to the person on the other side. "Are you alright?"

Silence answers me, but a response comes a few seconds later.

"Go away."

Half-expecting that to happen, I sigh. "You can't expect me to leave you behind like this."

The toilet flushes before the cubicle's door pulls open swiftly, revealing a girl with purple hair streaks in her raven hair. Dressed in an all tight and black outfit of jacket and jeans, she looks every bit like a female biker. With that downright intimidating glare she's shooting at me, she's by far the toughest-looking girl I've ever encountered in this school.

But the tears on her face ruined that very image.

"Geez, you annoying lass," she snaps at me angrily. "There you have it—the Slut's crying face. Happy? Now you can go out there and tell the entire world about it."

My face scrunches up in confusion at her accusation. "Why would I do that?"

The girl glowers at me through her swollen, red-rimmed eyes. "Isn't that why you came here?"

My frown deepens. "Of course not!"

I move closer to her, but the girl takes a reflexive step backwards and narrows her eyes at me with suspicion. She looks at me cautiously, like she's waiting for me to pounce on her, but she's wrong. Pulling out a packet of tissues from my back pocket, I dab at the tears dotting the edges of her eyes. Even her mascara has smeared from all the crying.