That Stupid Little L-Word:

Chapter Twenty:

"Ain't never had a friend like me..." 

You were one truly special friend, Robin, and you will be dearly missed. ❤

Despite the surge of disappointment that rings throughout my body like a church bell, I force myself to remain positive. I mean, I have to get a grip. I can't have a mental break down in the middle of class, that would be seriously weird. Especially since it would be over a boy. 

Well, and the fact that I woke up a good hour and a half early to make myself look pretty, and that boy is not even here to appreciate it.

My fingers drum against the desktop. I hardly listen to the teacher, and for once, he hardly pays any attention to me. My gaze is focused on the door. He just has to come in. Maybe he woke up late this morning. Maybe his car was having problems --man, I hope not, I love that car.

Or maybe...

The bell rings. I am startled out of my thoughts, and I look around the classroom, blinking out of my daze. Students stand and flood out the door like water breaking through cracks in a dam. I swallow thickly and grab my backpack. My legs are like lead as I move out the door and join the swarm of students. I fold my arms across my chest and slowly trod my way toward my next class. I swear if it wasn't fake, the flower in my hair would have wilted from my despair by now. 

The rest of the morning passes in a blur. 

I ignore everyone. In gym, Coach Godzilla decides that dodge-ball is boring, and decides to teach us something new, which does not fare well with my current state of mind. 

Volleyball is her preferred sport of choice now. 

"Don't just stand there and watch it bounce away!" she is screaming her ears off at someone unfortunate. I hover around the back of the court, still slightly guarding my position, but not really paying attention. I move toward the ball whenever it comes my way, but one of the athletic ones always rushes to get it before I can, and then it's not my problem anymore. 

Once that's finished, I'm being dragged toward the locker room by Miley, who seems to be a little concerned. "What happened?" she rounds on me the moment I find myself in front of my locker. 

"Just not feeling well," comes my usual response. 

She flicks me on the forehead. I blink out of my stupor and stare at her, eyes narrowing with each passing second. I glare at her, "What?"

"It's because of Seth, isn't it?" 

"No."

"You're lying," she wags a finger at me, and I contemplate chopping it off. "I knew it. I knew you dressed up to impress him. I just knew it." 

I glare at her and worm back into my pencil skirt. "Just shut up, please. I don't want to hear it right now." I tuck my white shirt back into the skirt and then adjust my hair. It's not as beautiful as it was this morning, and I went ahead and took the flower out. Miley leans against her locker when she's finished getting dressed, and when I'm finished, she grabs my arm again.

"What...hey!" I protest as she drags me out the door. Devon and Carl are waiting just outside the door, but we blow right past them. 

"Hey," Carl whines. I stare back at him, eyes wide, and I can just barely see Devon's eyebrows crinkle in confusion before I am whisked across campus and through the doors leading to the student parking lot. 

"Get into the car." Miley deposits me in front of the passenger side door of a small light blue Honda. 

I stare at the door, "I'm not so sure that's a good idea." 

"Get in."

"This could be considered kidnapping," I scowl. She climbs into the drivers seat and the car hums to life. I grumble a few curses under my breath and then wrench the door open, sliding into the smooth leather seat. The car pulls out of the lot and rolls down the road. I glare out the window like a sulking child and watch the scenery as we pass. The car makes a left, then a right, then another left into a small shopping complex. Miley pulls into a parking spot and climbs out. 

When I don't move, she presses a button on her magic clicker, and the car alarm blares. 

I jump out of the car, as if I'd just seen a bug the size of my head scuttling about. She turns the alarm off, smirks at me triumphantly, and then gestures toward a shop behind me. "Lets go get some ice cream." 

I glare at the frilly pink shop. We step inside, and the door jingles to announce our arrival. The store is decorated with pink balloons and swans --though I have no clue what those things have to do with ice cream. We walk up to the marble topped counter, and a cute boy with freckles beams at us. "What can I get you girls today?" 

"Cookies N' cream," Miley points to a bucket of said ice cream, and the boy scoops a giant glob out. The glob of black freckled cream drops into a chocolate-coated waffle cone with a plop. 

Then they both turn expectantly to me. 

I sigh and glance over the flavors. I point to some plain vanilla, and the boy shovels some out. "Can you drown it in sprinkles?" I ask. 

"Chocolate or rainbow?" he gestures to the two containers of sprinkles that sit off to the side. 

"Rainbow," I point and he dumps the container of sprinkles onto my ice cream before mixing it in. Miley licks at her own cone as he hands me mine. I pass him a five, and he shakes his head. "It's on me," he winks. 

"Great. Thanks," I smile weakly, as my insides cringe. I don't want a wink from this freckled pink boy, I want one from Blue-Eyes. 

We walk over to a table and I pull out a stool. The pink cushion squeaks as I sit down, and Miley chomps at her ice cream. I cringe. My teeth are far to sensitive to do that. "That's not normal," I tell her. 

She rolls her eyes, "It makes you feel better, though, right?" 

"The ice cream?" My eyebrows crinkle, and Miley glares at me. I snicker and lick a dribble of melted ice cream that trails down the cone toward my finger. I glance over the rainbow sprinkles, "Yeah, I guess." 

Miley smiles at me, "You're welcome." 

I stick my tongue out at her. I hate to admit it, but I do feel a lot better. Watching her eat ice cream like its a piece of cake, mixed with the sweetness that trickles down my throat, is pretty healing on the soul. My wounded pride has been, somewhat, fixed. 

"Thanks," I shoot her a reluctant smile. 

She just takes a giant bite of her ice cream.