lonely eyes

5. how to: ruin your reputation by stating an opinion - a guide by lola blanche

chapter five: how to: ruin your reputation by stating an opinion – a guide by lola blanche

        "GOOD MORNING, CLASS." MS. GLOVER strode into the classroom the same way she did every day, placing her binder and tote bag on her desk.

        "Good morning, Ms. Glover," Spencer droned mindlessly with the rest of his peers, his hand hovering over his doodle of a ribcage. He pretended he didn't notice the way Lola's eyes flickered towards him periodically, her brow creased in some sort of concern. He didn't understand why she was concerned anyway – he would've thought she'd be used to the way he barely replied to her.

        "I hope you all did your homework this weekend..." she trailed off, digging through a pile of paper from her tote bag. "Today is your test, after all."

        For once, Spencer wasn't nervous when Ms. Glover placed his sheet upside down on his desk. Inhaling deeply, he patiently waited for her to tell them to turn the sheet over.

        "Good luck," Lola whispered to him quietly. He looked to her for a second, her smile small.

        "Thanks," he breathed, his eyes skittering away from her sheepishly.

. . .

        SPENCER PULLED THE ZIPPER OF his hoodie closer to his chin, the early October wind biting at his exposed skin. Soon, it'd be too cold to eat lunch outside and he'd have to sit alone in the cafeteria with the rest of the school.

        The thought made him shiver.

        Apparently he'd be the last one to get the memo, the courtyard quiet without the normal chatter of Lola and her friends. His ham and cheese sandwich was cold. He felt empty, like he was at a loss but didn't know what exactly had gone missing.

            Suddenly the door leading to the courtyard squeaked. It was simply held open for a moment, as if whoever was behind it was contemplating whether or not to step out. Spencer knew immediately it was Lola.

            Finally, she popped her head out. Her short hair was a mess, as if she couldn't stop running her hands through it.

            "Spencer!" she called, waving an arm as if he weren't the only one in the courtyard.

            He looked to his new pair of Vans, figuring she would walk towards him if he didn't answer. He waited for the moment he saw her ballet flats, her shadow, anything that indicated she was standing in front of him.

            Instead, he heard the door squeal as it slammed shut.

. . .

           AIDEN WAS WATCHING SOME CRIME show when Spencer walked through the door, unlacing his shoes. He raised his coffee cup in greeting, barely averting his eyes from the screen.

            Instead of racing upstairs as he normally would've, Spencer dropped his bag on the armchair. Collapsing next to Aiden on the loveseat, he sighed loudly. Immediately, Aiden muted the television.

            "Girl problems?"

            Spencer sighed again instead of answering, glancing up at Aiden. He grinned sympathetically, leaning back in his seat.

            "Been there, done that." He chuckled halfheartedly, causing Spencer to sit up.

            "Really?" Spencer questioned. Aiden nodded, taking a long sip of his coffee before he placed it on the table in front of him.