Jealousy, possibly part 1?

October 28, 2010
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They were at it again today. In front of my locker, no less. He had his hands in her back pockets, his lips pressed into the crevice of her neck as she smiled at the kids who flushed at the sight of them like a dumb a**. Her thick skull couldn’t comprehend that everyone was disgusted by them. Even he was disgusted by them, and yet he continued to be with her. He liked the way that she let him touch her in the hallway and the way she would touch him in return. It was sickening.

We used to be friends, me and him, before she came along and ruined it all. I had a plan for us, and we were right on schedule, until she popped up and twisted his heart into a throbbing mass that could once have held a soul but was now a cold sex addicts red pulse.

They’ve gone all the way. I know they have. There’s no proof or anything, not real proof, but I know him and I see the way he looks at her, the way he refuses to look at me. He’s addicted. Besides, they might as well do it right there in the hallway. No one would notice. Even if she walked around like a naked imbecile, people would smile at her and act like nothing was wrong. Even the teachers. They’d comment on her apparel, something like: Catherine, your shirt is absolutely stunning, honey! Tell me, where did you get it?

I simply cannot take the way they don’t mind the two of them f***ing in the school classroom but can’t stand the fact that my skirt comes up above my knees or that my shirt slides a bit lower to hint that I might actually have a chest beneath the awful shirts my mother makes me wear.

She smiles at me as I walked up to them today. “Leah!” She grins at me. I stare at her with her straight, blond hair and muddy brown eyes and her tall tan legs (one of which is currently wrapped around his hip).

“Catherine,” I nod at her and refuse to acknowledge him. I stand there awkwardly, unsure of whether I should reach around them to open my locker or ask them to move over just a teensy bit so they don’t get any s*** in my space. I chose to do neither and stand there like an idiot.

“Hello, Leah,” he says and moves Catherine over just a little so that I can reach the lock. He looks at me with what some would call concern in his clear turquoise eyes. Turquoise is my favorite color.

I don’t say anything though, just lower my head and force the lock around itself. 39-6-23. It doesn’t open. I grind my teeth together and nearly punch the d*** metal. If only that would have accomplished something. I try it again and the compartment finally moves itself apart and allows me to gather my books for first period.

He leans in to her ear, and I brace myself for some kind of biting or otherwise gross act of “love”, but he just whispers something soft to her and she smiles and kisses his neck and leaves. He turns to me and raises an eyebrow expectantly.

I just look at him, hoping he understands the hate that has grown within me these past few months. He does. “I know you probably hate me, Leah,” he starts. Even his voice sounds unsure. He’s never sounded like that before. “I’ve treated you awfully, and you deserve a better friend.”

Friend. That godd*** word that haunts me day and night. Friend. How many times have you ever heard that word when you want it to mean so much more? Me? I’ve heard it at least once every day for the past fifteen years of my life. He always just wants to be friends. Not he, the one in front of me. But he, the overarching theme of he’s.

I shove another book into my bag and slam the locker shut. It bangs into its fellow friends so harshly that I think it will later regret being my locker. In my head, I apologize.

“You’re mad at me…”

I turn away from him, frustrated. No s***, Sherlock, I think to myself as I shove my way through the hallway. I bet you he didn’t even follow me. I bet he doesn’t want to follow me. I bet Catherine told him that he had to talk to me again. I bet she was getting fed up with him constantly being around her, touching her. But how could you get bored of that? How could you get bored of his strong hands wrapped around your thin waist and his lips brushing your ear as he says the three words every teenage girl longs to hear?

I wanted that so badly. I wanted him so badly. I wanted her to disappear so badly.

A hand touched my shoulder gently when I stopped.

I wanted to disappear so badly.





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carolinagirl said...
Nov. 10, 2010 at 11:30 am

Gosh, I LOVE it!(: I know exactly how that feel, it sucks. I can actually picture the whole thing. I really really like that, you should definitely make a Part 2!

You shoulc check out some of my work(:

 
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