I Think About You Ronnie Anne

10

       I sit in the corner of the lunchroom where nobody sits or even looks at. It's an obscure and lost land that few explore. A dark corner that's hidden away from the rest. From here I can assure myself that I'll be alone and nobody will bother me. I can see Ronnie Anne's friends—the ones who made fun of me. They are talking to each other and they look confused. I would presume it's because they're wondering where their good friend is; the girl who never misses a day of school (trust me I know her record), and the friend who would always notify her besties where she happened to be. This girl that I just described wasn't texting her friends where she was. She disappeared out of nowhere? Went AWOL? Looking at it from that personal perspective, it would make sense that they're confused about the absence. She's always communicative, even if she's sick in the hospital she'll shoot you a message. They look confused and the more I scrutinize their faces, I can see subtle changes. Eyebrows drooping and lips quivering... they aren't just confused. Her friends are concerned. So they show empathy for their friend, but they lack it when it comes to me? Very interesting. At least they care about someone, otherwise they'd be psychopaths. Everyone else seems fairly naive to the situation. A girl is in my basement and only her friends bat an eye? I'd expect teachers and students alike, whether they knew her personally or superficially or shallowly, surely a person who's always around and suddenly disappears would cause a stir. I wonder how her parents feel. What are they doing about it right now?

       "Hey, Lincoln! Why are you sitting all by yourself?" Oh dear lord, my plans of solitude are at risk. "I would just like to be left alone. That's all. Thank you for understanding." He did not understand, clearly, because while I was saying that he decided to take a seat right next to me. He's sitting so close that his side is touching mine. I scoot away a few inches and re-attain some personal space. "Who were you looking at?" he asked. "Looking at? What are you talking about?" I asked him. "You were staring at something across the room. You looked really focused. You got a crush on someone?" He laughed when he said that, but I didn't. "Have you noticed anything weird lately, Clyde?" He took his glasses off and wiped them with his shirt. "Nothing in particular, why? Did you notice something?" he asked. "Yeah. Ronnie Anne hasn't been showing up to school." He looked mildly surprised. "Oh, really? I didn't even notice! I don't do well talking to girls so I never really had a conversation with her. She seems nice. Are you friends with her?" I shook my head. He zipped open his lunchbox and took out two sandwiches. "Are you hungry?" he asked. "I don't eat lunch." He shrugs and says, "More for me," and starts eating one of the sandwiches. His chewing is loud and obnoxious but I put up with it. It becomes background noise while I continue watching Ronnie Anne's friends. Their confusion seems to have subsided, and they're talking just like normal. It's like the school has already forgotten about her. Clyde's chewing got louder and when I turned I saw that he was looking at me. "What?" I ask. "You're staring again."

       I intend to walk home alone, but Clyde sees me from afar and runs to my side. "Hi again, Lincoln! I don't really have any friends to walk home with, so would you mind if I joined you?" I didn't say anything and he must've taken my silence as permission. He continues yapping all by himself, and I don't have to say anything for him to have a whole conversation with me, practically by himself. "When I get home, I'm gonna finally beat the last level on Pixel Droids! That game rocks! You should try it sometime. Maybe you could come over sometime and we can play it together! Man, I love that game. What about you Lincoln? What're you gonna do when you get home?" For some reason, I zoned completely out, and all his words were filtered out by my ears. The only thing I heard him say was that last sentence. It made me stop and he stopped too. "Is everything alright?" I wiped the sweat off my forehead. "Yeah, it's just hot out, sorry." When we got to a wide pale house he waved his hand at me. "Bye, Linc! It was really fun hanging out! Let's do it again tomorrow!" I shouted back "No" but he already had gotten inside and missed my response. That left me alone again to walk home. On the way, I saw a big Rottweiler dog. It jumped at me but was stopped by a rusty wired fence that caged the whole front yard of the house. The whole fence anchored down a bit from the dog's body weight, but he was still trapped. While he was up against the fence, propped up on his hind legs and pushing his front paws on the wire, we locked eyes with each other. Its eyes were brown rings with a hard black center. It stared at me with no emotion at all. This dog couldn't feel sadness or joy... not even empathy. The only driving force behind that monster was malice. Pure, unadulterated, boiling, red-hot wrath that simmered when touched. I could feel it burn through me, seeing right past my skin and into the large cavity that all my organs were arranged in. He wanted to tear it all out, I could tell. He would do it for blood. He would do it in a desperate attempt to feel some new feeling inside him... but God knows that creature will always and only ever feel rage.