“I’m sorry,” He says.

“No, you’re not.” I argue, eyes remaining forwards.

“Yes, I am.” He states, firmly.

“No, you are not. You never fully accept other’s apologies, so why should I accept your half-assed one?” I explain.

“How do you know?” He raises an eyebrow at me while rocking on his heels.

“You never wanted to be involved, strings attached or not. So why the fuck would you apologize?”


5. Chapter Five

“We need to talk.” I state, trying my best not to lash out in anger.


Jake glances at Lane before looking at me.


“I don’t have time for you.” He says before running off to catch the bus.


Stunned, I stand there almost frozen.


I know he takes the bus home, so the time would be limited. But he has time to talk to Lane and not me?


My eyes jump to Lane who keeps a neutralized expression.


Okay then.

I let out an irritated sigh before turning on my heel and heading to the tables by the office, knowing Jordan would be there.


He greets me with a long hug while carrying out his conversation with Connor.


“Okay, I have to go to room 123 for detention.” Jordan says before kissing my forehead.


I nod.


“Don’t do anything stupid.” He reminds me.


I just roll my eyes before he walks off.


I give him a few minutes before following him to check one of the areas Lane has been picked up before, it was a entry in the History wing.


He’s not there.


I dart off to the other end of the school for the entry to the fieldhouse. Not there either. Slightly anxious, I work my way to the entry way in the English wing. Not there. The only other place he could be would be Mrs. Welsh’s. That’s if he is here.


It’s not three yet, so he wouldn’t be picked up.


As casually as possible, I peek my head in the room to see a short and beanie covered boy. Mrs. Welsh gestures in my direction before I hurry off. Lane has been avoiding me since winter break so I don’t think he wants to see me.


He won’t answer my texts, calls and blocked me on Instagram. Honestly, I should give up but I don’t want him upset with me for the wrong reason. So, my best bet in getting a response is via person… If that even works.


People are so goddamn confident when hidden behind a screen that all the shit they say over text won’t be verbalized in person. I also enjoy reading the body language and picking up habits to see if the person is lying or not.


Since Lane is a quite and shy person, body language is going to be huge when figuring out what he’s saying.


I make my way back to Welsh’s room, hiding behind the corner while sitting on my phone. To distract myself, I go through my pictures and attempt to smile. However, I’m overwhelmed with fear due to how Lane treated me the day before break.


I get to the screenshotted messages from days before. Jake’s screenshots to be exact. My teeth dig into my bottom lip and my hands start to tremble a little. Oh my God, I such a bitch! How badly can I treat a guy?


But to my defense, I was so done with his shit that night. I was so sick and tired of how he never came to me about anything. He always told someone who’d come tell me so I could address it to him.


I was doing all the work.


At least Jordan puts effort in our relationship. Jake won’t do shit.


“Okay, thank you Mrs, Welsh!” Lane says as he walks out the door.


Lane wasn’t stunned that I was there. In fact, Lane didn’t even look at me. I let him walk a little but he doesn’t look back. Not once.


“Lane!” I shout as he walks towards the fieldhouse.


“Don’t talk to me.” He was responds, hardly turning around to look at me.


I halt where I’m at.


I try to breathe but my chest feels heavy. Not knowing what to do, I rush to the history wing where Jordan’s detention would be held and  push open the bathroom door, just standing there.


The lilac painted bathroom stalls that have been vandalized to no end, the shitty sinks that hardly run any water because they can’t stay on for more than ten seconds. The mirror that has scratch marks and sharpie covering it. It didn’t seem real.


Nothing seems real; losing Jake and Lane to some fucked up conversation during New Year’s night. Losing them to some lie that I wasn’t in on. Losing them to something so simple!


Nothing seems real; like the fact that I’m in high school. The fact that this is my life.


‘Smol Child

Text Message’


I don’t appreciate you stalking me - Lane


I look down at the message, my eyebrows knitting in confusion.


What the hell?


I wasn’t stalking you. I was waiting to talk to you… - Me


I jut out my hip, waiting for Lane’s response.


All I was doing was waiting to explain myself. Lane asked for distance a little while back but I didn’t know how long he meant. So, I’d check in once a week. Every time I checked in, I received some negative response. Knowing, my chances over text were slim,  I waited for him after school.


I don’t want to talk to you - Lane


And you’re texting me why? - Me


You’re texting me - Lane


Well no shit! What else am I doing besides whipping my eyes?


You need to leave me alone. - Lane


Um okay? - Me


I don’t care about you. You’re psychotic, self-centered, manipulative and a bitch. I don’t need that kind of negativity in my life. I’m trying to get myself back on the right track and your nagging is not helping. Leave me alone. - Lane


My jaw drops and tears spill.


Lane, what the fuck? I am none of those names! I care about you and have been trying to make sure you’re okay! Where is all of this coming from? - Me


You’re lying to me. You never cared. You just wanted to use me for your own selfish reasons. That’s what they all do - Lane


Red lights flashed around in my mind. They. Someone treated him with the same kindness like I did. Unlike me, they left him. They used him. Why else would he push me away like this? He compared me to someone from his past and now he’s freaked out.


I never wanted to hurt you! Why do you keep thinking that? - Me


Lane goes on to fill me with lies while more tears dribble down my pink cheeks. None of it makes sense. I never tried to hurt Lane. I never meant to do anything wrong. I just wanted to help and get to know him. But he’d never let me get close.


Now, I just sit here in the bathroom crying, while he tells me all these lies.


You’re just pushing me away. You’re scared - Me


It’s what my mom would say. She’s great at analyzing situations and finding motives.


Stop lying - Lane


I’m not. You just said I’d leave like the rest, however I haven’t given you any signals that said I’d leave. So, you’re scared to open up and have me take all that information and run - I explain.


Lane stops responding.


I try to call him back but he never picks up. Confused and hurt I try to text him but none of my messages go through.


I text Jordan.


When he comes to the bathroom, I engulf myself into his arms.  He doesn’t say anything or ask about anything. He already knows that I don’t want to talk and just want to be comforted.


Instead of responding, he rubs my back and pulls me closer.


“Wanna sit down?” He asks, adjusting his head to look at me.


I nod.


He walks me over to the little cafeteria and we sit in the back corner.


“He said I’m manipulative… That I’d leave..” I trail off, closing my eyes.


The room kept getting bigger and smaller. The paint on the walls kept swirling around in different designs, giving me a major headache.


“May I read the messages?” He asks.


I hand him my phone with the messages open.


Hunched over in his lap, I rest on my arm to prevent my tears from staining his pants. My hair falls over my face, preventing me from seeing anyone or anything. Not that I wanted to. My cheeks are stained and my mascara probably ran down my face too.


Quite frankly, I’m too embarrassed to check.


“That is uncalled for!” Jordan exclaims, slightly jumping from his position.

I let out a groan from  the sudden movement.


“I know.. I don’t care anymore.” I mutter.


“Lizzie…” He coos, quietly while rubbing my shoulder.


“Every time I show genuine feelings, I get fucked over.” I burry my face in my hands, not wanting to see anything.


“What time are you getting picked up?” He asks.


“Like five minutes…” I trail off.


He nods his head and then readjusts me so both of us are comfortable.


Neither of us say anything at all, just absorb the other’s silence. It’s comforting though. Knowing that someone is willing to just be there for you, no questions asked. Be there to hold you, comfort you and defend you.

I don’t have say anything, he already knew that something was up the moment I texted him “come here”. I’m sure my appearance gave it away too. But that doesn’t matter. I’m just thankful I don’t have to speak.




“Mom, I don’t want to go to school,” I whimper, when I get home. “I don’t feel emotionally stable enough to even walk through the doors.”


She too, pulls me into a hug and allows me to cry on her shoulder.


“Some he/she just tore her apart over text.” My dad says.


“He said he didn’t care. He never did.” I whine. “All that effort for heartbreak! He was my friend! I cared. Hardly anyone does anymore.”


Mama directs me to the office, telling me to explain everything to her where it’s more quiet.


I tell her everything. I tell her how Lane is transgender, his parents are divorced, he’s shipped between his parents and grandparents. I talk about his recent breakup. Not only that, but I give her details about this whole ‘space’ thing he asked for on the day winter break began.


Mama came to the conclusion that Lane is stressed beyond belief. Not only are his parents divorced but he’s getting shipped between them all throughout the week. He’s transgender, so he has to deal with the emotions of a girl but expressing them like a guy. To go off that, his parents don’t accept it.


And then there’s the drama of his recent breakup. Friends are taking sides and he’s finding out the truth about what has been going on during his relationship. His ex was infact cheating on him.


I already knew what was going to be said. I pieced it all together. However, I just felt like everything was inaccurate since no one ever believes me about these things. They never notice the details between the lines or repetitive actions.


“Jessie and Jordan are going to try talking to him tomorrow.” I murmur when she finishes ranting.


“Ah.. And you don’t want to go to school?” She confirms.


“I don’t feel stable enough to participate,” I sigh.


Mama knows damn well I’m not lying due to past issues. Middle school wasn’t my best, well technically it was eighth grade. But sixth through eighth grade I did learn (the hard way, of course) that trust cannot be distributed so freely.


Oh who knew backstabbing was a thing?


And you don’t need to please anyone other than yourself. Pleasing your ‘friends’ because you’re inadequate to them is not okay.


That innocence I had as a child was demolished in three years of pure and utter emotional torture. I never kept the same friend for more than a year. None of them treated me fairly or made sure I was okay.


I was controlled, contained, verbally beaten by a jealous ex-friend. Girls body shamed me even though I was in a healthy range for my height. They shot down my dreams and aspirations. Fuck! My ‘best-friend’ set me up with an asshole who didn’t like me but my body! I was fucking 12!


So yea, my trust died.


And then, I opened up again. Thinking ‘hey! Maybe this person will be genuine and honest’ and I was wrong. I used Lane? No. I wanted to help! Lane needed emotional help, it was written across his face in neon, flashing colors!


The sad eyes and the closed off body language meant (to me) that he needed someone to rely on. He’d open up about his life, complain about things and talk about how stressful everything was. Slowly, I got to know him better and learned what he needed.


But I guess everything was wrong. I guesstimated wrong.


He didn’t need a rock for when he needed time to rest. He need a notebook to write everything in or ears to listen. He didn’t need long hugs for rough days. Nope. None of it.


“I put so much effort into him, UGH!” I rant.


“Not everyone appreciates what they have.” Mama tells me.


“I know. On a different note, I’m going to go shower.” I announce while rubbing at my eyes.


I give my mom a hug and head upstairs.


Why does he have to matter so much? He never cared about me to begin with. It was all for nothing, I guess.


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