36. thirty six
thirty six
EZRA
Spring ended, and summer had begun. Although the next few months were known to be the warmest of the year, they felt the coldest. I missed her. I yearned for her embrace, her comfort, her solace, her person.
My many attempts to repair what I had damaged were for nothing.
She refused to listen to me. Not once had she directed a word to me, not since she had left me battered at the school’s sports pitch.
I could do nothing but watch as she switched seats in our history class.
I watched as she was the first to leave the classroom when she knew that I was in the far section of the lecture hall.
I remained silent as she pushed past me in the corridors.
Whenever I would go to her room, she’d lock herself inside and wouldn’t come out even if I remained outside for hours.
I probably sounded like a loser.
I should’ve been honest with her from the beginning. And now, the summer break was about to begin and I had failed at fixing my mistake.
What am I to do?
Besides my misery, I couldn’t help but worry about her wellbeing. Where would she stay for the summer? Did she have someplace to live? How would she feed herself? These questions took all my energy.
The familiarity of her presence came near. I looked up and saw that she wasn’t too far, making a right turn into another dark hallway.
I rushed to meet her as her coiled strands passed by my peripheral version. “Lysandra!” I called.
She looked back, brows scrunched. When she recognized my voice and expression, she continued walking ahead.
I hurried even more until I was beside her.
Her lips were set in a thin line. There’d not been a single drop of emotion on her face, which troubled me.
Perhaps I was foolish in nearing her and attempting some civilized discourse between us.
“Hey,” I began, but she ignored me. “Hey, stop. I need to ask you something.”
She remained silent.
“Do you have someplace to stay this summer?”
Nothing.
“Lysandra this isn’t a joke. Just answer,” I said.
Silence.
My patience wore thin. Here I was, worried about her safety, about her health, about her, and she couldn’t even give me a simple response.
“I’m asking because I care. So, please, just give me an answer,” I said more roughly. Even I didn’t like my own tone. She stopped pacing, piercing me with her glare. It was that look, that look of hatred and disgust, that broke my heart even more.
“Now you care?” she snapped.
She had every right not to believe the words formed in my mouth after my empty promises.
“Please. Where are you staying in the summer?” I begged.
“I’ll be staying far away from you, that’s where I’m staying,” she spat before tightening her grip around her binder and notebooks. I could see the white ends of her fingertips.
It amazed me how I could’ve built a connection with her, and it could have all come tumbling down like a sandcastle.
“I’m serious.” My hand found her arm, stopping her from leaving. Although my action only enraged her even more.
“I am too. Today is the last day you will ever see me again,” she uttered. “I hope you’re happy.”
There was bitterness in her words. Her statement hadn’t been filled with resentment, but with despair. As if she wished she didn’t have to leave, but like she felt that she had no other choice.
“What are you saying?” I asked. My heart pulsed faster.
“I’m leaving this school,” she said.
She elbowed my hand, causing me to lose my grasp of her. Then she stepped into an incoming crowd of uniformed students. Her silhouette was lost among the mob of Blackthorn attendees.
And it truly was the last time I saw her.