Nate POV
The bell rings, and as I pack my binder into my backpack to leave for lunch, my math teacher calls out to all of us. "Students, don't forget to do your homework! It's pages 123-124, all questions!" Everyone in the room groans including me. Great. Just what I needed on a Monday.
As I leave the room, I drag my feet across the long hallway lined with lockers and huddles of other 11th graders. My eyes flicker to the right as I'm passing by, and I quickly wish I hadn't. Jake somehow managed to make eye contact with me, even though he was with a circle of friends. Of course.
"Hey little brother, how's it going?" Jake called out to me, walking over to where I was standing. Ugh. I despised him with every ounce of my being.
I debated making a run for it, but thought better of the idea. He's the athletic one, not me, and if he wanted to talk to me, he would, sooner or later.
A group of students follow after him. There were the girls, the type that practically threw themselves on guys to get some attention, and your average jocks, hoping to be noticed by the football king (as they referred to him.)
"Don't call me that," I growled. I hated it when he said that. We're twins. Why does he make it a big thing that I was born a minute after him? A minute is not enough to make such a difference.
"Now now Nate, don't speak to your elders like that!" All the people surrounding Jake giggle like good little children. Sometimes I wonder if they can even think for themselves anymore. It bothers me how all they ever do is follow in the footsteps of others. Where's the originality these days?
I turn to walk away, but Jake stops me, his hand resting on my shoulder lightly. He flips his dirty blonde hair that all the girls fall for. That, and his eyes that are just a bit lighter than my azure ones. For some reason though, I didn't have girls spilling all over me. Hmph. How unjust.
His words that follow, I've heard them every day for years now, but they still upset me. "Show me your wrist," he asks with a smile. A fake one. To anybody else, this would have been a normal question a nosy sibling or perhaps a friend would ask, but I recognized the threat behind his words. A threat that only I could understand.
I slid the bracelet I always kept on me to try and cover the Symbol up, and reveal what's on it and always has been, at least since last year. A single black heart. A permanent reminder of the death of my love.
Most of the people standing in the group already knew about my black heart, but those that didn't, I could see the pity on their faces, and I don't know if I'm just imagining it or not, but there might have been a couple of gasps. They instinctively look down at their own wrists, and are visibly satisfied to see that it hasn't changed since the last time they saw it. I quickly yank my cuff down. I didn't want their pity. Their pity wouldn't bring her back.
"Can I go now?" I ask, getting impatient. My brother laughs, and shoves me away.
"Please, do disappear."
I stomp away from them, and continue down the hall. Finally.
Nobody here understood what it felt like to have a black heart forever on their wrist. They didn't understand the pain of always looking down, and being reminded of the one who's gone, and the vivid memories that you don't know whether you want to treasure forever, or banish from your mind. Whenever they look down, they get to see their red little hearts there on their wrist, the one I used to have, and smile to themselves, thinking of their special one. Me, I can't look down at my hands without feeling an emptiness in my chest, and anger. It's not fair. It's not fair that she had to die. It's just not fair.
As I feel my eyes begin to burn, I sprint the remaining distance of the hallway, and turn.
Not looking where I was going, I crash into somebody's body, and we both fall. "W-watch where y-you're g-going!" she says angrily. I bounce up, and with a mumbled apology, I continue running, not giving her a second thought.
Gradually, the number of students ambling about, chatting with their friends, begins to die down, as all of them make their way to the cafeteria to dine, but still, I run.
Hiding in a random empty classroom, I stay until I'm positive the halls are clear, and then I make my way out. It's empty and peaceful upstairs, so I take my time walking to where I always eat I make my way over to a little area, right underneath the staircase. Call it my little hideout, since nobody else ever comes here. I collapse to the hard tile ground, and all the tears I had been holding back come flowing out.
"Happy birthday, Annie," I choke out, pulling a picture of her smiling out of my pocket. "Happy birthday, and may you rest in peace." I stare at the picture, burning tears crawling down my face, leaving a salty taste in my mouth. I missed her more than I could ever put into words.
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I sat there wallowing in my grief for a bit longer, and then wiped my face off. Sitting and sobbing wasn't going to do anything for me, I might as well just eat. I slide the photo back into the pocket of my black ripped up skinny jeans without sparing it another glance, otherwise I would be here all day.
I take out my lunch from my bag, and tear into it. It's a simple sub I made this morning, like I always have.
My parents are constantly busy and rarely ever home, so I end up almost always cooking my own meals. I've become pretty good at it too. If I wanted to, I certainly have enough money to buy my food, but that involved going downstairs and waiting in line and the such, and I'm not one of the most patient people, so lines aren't really my thing. Besides, school food tastes disgusting.
The bread of my sandwich is much tougher than I had expected, because I find myself struggling to take a bite. I'm glad I was there alone, because I was certain I looked like an absolute idiot. A bittersweet feeling comes over me as I think of how Annie would have laughed at me.
After struggling with it for a bit longer, I trash it, ignoring my rumbling stomach. I wasn't in the mood to fight my food. I made a mental note to stop by the store on my way home, and pick up some new bread, because apparently the bread I had at home became stale.
I pull out the picture again, drinking in her appearance. Her last words still echo in my ears. "Nate, find another girlfriend, and be happy. Please, for me." But she didn't understand. I couldn't do that. Not because I didn't think I could ever fall in love again, but because if I cared for that person's safety, I would keep them as far away from me as possible. I didn't need another Annie. Not another mistake. Not another death because of me. Not again.
Too soon, the bell to signify lunch is over rings. I rush to pack up my stuff and leave my little corner before everyone comes running on the stairs. I doubt that would end up too well. I sling my heavy bag over a shoulder, and tread over to my locker, on the far end of the school.
Entering the combination into the lock, I then search for all of my art supplies in the mess. Thankfully, art is my last class, and it's also my favorite. I don't think I would have been able to make it through another class.
Something about painting away reality comforts me, and I can spend hours lost in a drawing. It's one of the few ways I can attempt to express the feelings I can't find words for, the other being music.
I don't feel like taking my bag off, so I hold my things, and make my way over to the class.
Arriving early, I enter the studio and take my seat at a table only I sit at. Soon, the room begins to fill up, and friends chat amongst themselves. Not me though. I have nobody to talk to, since most people are put off by my nonexistent social standing. Besides, why spend time talking to me when my brother exists?
Dropping everything down on the table, I pull my sketchbook out towards me, and after thinking for a bit, I begin sketching Annie's face from memory.
I can see all of it clearly, as though she was seated right in front of me. The indents of her dimples, and her shining white teeth as her lips part into a sweet smile. The warmth in her glittering amber eyes, flecked with bits of a deep chocolate color, and the long, dark eyelashes seated right above them. A cute little button nose that had a piercing through the septum, just like I do now. Golden strands that spilled upon her shoulders, and shined as if she bathed it in sunlight. She was perfect, and now she's gone.
I didn't realize I was crying again until I saw the drops of water on my page. I can't do this.
I shut my book and lay my head down for a moment. Get it together, Nate. If I was going to be like this, I might as well just go home now. Breath. In and out, in and out.
It took a few minutes, but I was able to calm myself down so that I could function without becoming a sniveling mess. Just as I picked my head up and started to continue the drawing, the teacher walked in.
"Hello class, sorry I'm late, I had to run an errand during lunch real quick. Anyways, I would like to direct your attention over here, and say hello to the new student!"
The murmurs faded away as everybody turned to face the petite girl standing up front, her arms wrapped around herself, as if she were trying to guard herself. She seems like somebody I'd seen recently, but I can't place my finger on it.
The girl has a shy smile on her face, and I can automatically tell that she won't make it here. Nope. I hope that her personality is nothing like I guess it is, otherwise she'll be an easy target for the bullies and the resident cheerleaders looking to boost their own confidence. But whatever, I tell myself. It's none of my business.
"H-hi," she grins. It's a cute smile, I've got to admit. "I'm Skylar King and I r-really l-like to d-dr-draw."
After hearing her, I realize why I felt like I was on the brink of recognizing her. It was the girl I had bumped into earlier!
Hearing snickers at her stutter ripple across the room, a part of me gets mad. There's nothing funny about speech impairments. Inwardly, I groan and wonder how long she'll last.
The teacher shoots a look at the class, silencing them. "Go on, Skylar, tell us a little more about yourself."
"I h-have a s-stutter th-that becomes m-more obvious the more n-nervous I am."
From somewhere in the back of the room, a voice calls out, "You don't say?" Everybody laughs, and my gaze lingers on her just long enough to see her cheeks flush red, before I turn back around so that I face the table. I didn't want to see her anymore, because then I might actually defend her, and we can't have that happening now can we?
"Everybody quiet down now," the teacher says, not at all noticing how embarrassed the new student looks standing up there. She was squirming under all the attention and laughter in here.
"Today will be a free period, so you may draw whatever you would like. Next class we'll begin a new project." Mixed reactions come from that statement, but the majority of the people, including me, are glad for the chance to do our own thing today.
As if he just noticed that Skyler was still up there, Mr. Ross says to her, "You can go over there and sit by Nate, alright?" He points to the seat next to me, and I sigh. There goes my table to myself.
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Hey guys it's CoddiwompleXX, and this is my first story on RoyalRoadl! I'm also uploading this on Wattpad, and I go by the same username, so feel free to check that out. I would love to hear what you think of this so far, so please, feel free to comment!