~~ I looked up when Coach called my name, “here.”  I glance across our small pack of runners and feel the corners of my mouth turn up in a smile.  My eyes catch Patrick’s, I paused a moment to watch them.  His eyes were light brown and they always smiled with him.  He had long black eyelashes and I wonder if he can see my smile, many people didn’t because it was just the very corners of my mouth.  But to tell the truth I never smiled my full smile; dimples and all, unless I was laughing.  We watch each other for what feels like a long time but common sense tells me that it’s only been several seconds.  I force myself to look away for reasons I wouldn’t determine until later pondering; when I would realize I was afraid he would see what I really was, a monster, a psychopath.  Something I don’t think he could ever learn to love.  Or like, not that he needed to.  I just think it would maybe be nice perhaps.  For me, for him maybe not.  I glance back over my shoulder for the bus, remembering soon after that I couldn’t see well enough to know whether or not it was without my glasses.  More names were called and Patrick walked off to throw away a water bottle. 
 I could hear the way my heart beat, spelling out my wish.  Thump, thump, thump, ‘stand by me, stand by me, stand by me.’ I wondered briefly if everyone could hear it before quickly dismissing it because of its foolishness.  I sense someone’s presence beside me, and glance over to see him.  Resisting my urge to smile.  I think with fondness that I am almost two full heads shorter than him and my head only reaches to his collar bone, if not slightly above that.   I walk with him and we laugh as our team is loaded onto the bus and note silently the empty happiness that I feel. 
 I wondered if perhaps I could tell him and maybe he would like me back.  Or perhaps he wouldn’t.  Perhaps it would ruin everything, maybe it would work.  For awhile.  I could be happy for awhile.  But in the end, nothing ever happens when you are expecting it to, when your despite and afraid.  Prepared.  It happens while your laughing and holding the hand of someone you love; it happens when you’re the happiest you’ve ever been.  This is something I’ve come to learn, and it is something I find I am genuinely afraid to learn again. 
 I tilt my head back against the seat as the exhaustion of the race finally swept over me and refused to allow my eyes to stay open.  I allowed the music to sweep through my subconscious as I fell into a fitful, dark sleep the rest of the bus ride.
---
 I held a hair bow in the palm of my hand, inspecting my thumb for blood where the pin that rested just above the clip had stabbed it.  “Why were you wearing a bow tie in your hair?”  He smiles, that was one of my favorite things about him.  His smile, it was warm and friendly and I shivered when I thought of him giving me one.  One I needn’t steal from him.  I laugh, something I have never been afraid to do near him.  It was fairly simple, he never mocked me.  Not in anyway, never.  Not like others had, telling me my laugh was too loud and it was annoying.  Unwittingly he made me want to give him my laughter, perhaps in return for his smiles.  Or even for him, just for him. 
 “It’s not a bow tie, it’s a hair clip.”  The corners of my mouth turn up, something he unconsciously made me do. 
 “No, see?  It’s a bow tie.”  He undid the clasp of the pin and pinned it carefully to the collar of his green shirt.  I laughed again, almost unable to control myself. 
 “Okay, well.  Maybe, but it’s also a hair bow.”  I smile up at him, he smiles down at me.  And I don’t even ask for my clip back.  A bit later her removes the bow and hands it back to me, sitting down at one of four desks set up facing each other to play a card game.  I watch quietly, or as quietly as I can while they play something I couldn’t understand properly if someone taught me. 
 “Do you know how to play?”  Dillon asked, glancing up at me from where he sat.
 “Please,” I smile “I can’t even play Go Fish.”  Music plays in the background and I sing along with several of the middle school girls, he grins down at his cards and although he pretends he’s not I can see his lips moving. 

~~ Marie arouses me from my book, whispering loudly “abort mission, abort mission!”  Instantly I know what she means and my heart sinks to the pit of my stomach, settling like a ball of metal the size of a soccer ball.  I felt my emotional subconscious shutting down, a reaction I’d picked up long ago to save me from exposing myself to people. 
 “What happened?”  I look back down at my book and allow myself to appear placid when I feel the sullen blandness settling in my skin and breaking my heart with one quick sleek movement. 
 “He’s got a date.”  I hold my tongue for a second, feeling the very last speck of hope run for cover. 
 “Patrick?”  She nodded “Are you sure?  Did you ask him?”  I glance up at her, and then quickly back down so she doesn’t see the panic lacing my eyes, and can only hope that she hadn’t heard it in my voice.  She nodded again,
 “I heard from someone in science.” 
 “Okay.”  This was something I had wasted every wish I’d come across for roughly the past month on. 
 “Are you okay?”  She glances at me as I continue to burry myself in my book, pretending the disappointment isn’t drowning me. 
 “Yeah, I’m fine.”  I smile, but I can tell my eyes are sullen and empty.  She frowned as I looked back down at my book and sighed submissively.  It wouldn’t be half as bad but I knew that when practice rolled around, I couldn’t act like this.  I couldn’t be disappointed, I had to laugh and smile and act like I always did.  I couldn’t let him know I felt broken; I couldn’t let him know I like him.  If he didn’t already. 
---
 I sprint the rest of the race, my vision is blurry but not as much as it is on hot days, a slight breeze rustles the lose hair that’s come out of my ponytail to rest around my face.  I can see the huge yellow banner that says finish on it and I wander what my time is.  I see a green uniform behind the fence out of the corner of my eye but can’t really tell who it is, John maybe, or Daniel? I knew he had dark hair and was standing next to Coach, and I think I see several other green uniforms.  They’re telling me to go faster I try to calculate in my head just how much faster I can take, wider, faster steps, even breathing, this is a list I go through almost every time I sprint the finish.  Almost every time my breathing gets erratic.  Almost every time they say that I have too much energy at the end.  Unavoidably I get kindly chastised for having too much energy, really I didn’t.  Or maybe I did.  I sprint over the white stripe that’s meant to be the end of the race, and abruptly start walking, stumbling slightly I’m dizzy and light headed but assume I’ll be fine.  My team is at the end of the shoot, almost all of my team.  Patrice isn’t there, but I won’t lie, I didn’t notice at first.  Probably because my head was still foggy with exhaustion.  “Coach, do you know my time?” 
 “About seven minutes faster than your regular time.”  I stumble forward vaguely,
 Adam takes a step forward, towards me.  “Alright?”  He asks; his arms angled as if he might need to catch me.  I nod slightly. 
 “How you doing?”  I don’t really look at him, I recognize his voice.  It was one of my favorites.  His name is Leo.  He had short blonde hair and blue eyes, his face was shockingly regular but somehow that made it handsome.  He was in band; he played trumpet, however preferring something else, but I couldn’t quiet recall what.  He reached out to touch my shoulder but I don’t quite register it. 
 “I’m a little dizzy, but I’ll be fine.”  He nods seriously, I liked being taken seriously.  This was an award I had gotten from being on this Cross team.  Everyone took me seriously unless I was kidding. 
 “That’s how I always feel.” 
 I take a step away from my team, “I’m going to get some water, I need water.”   I smile and walk at a somewhat regular speed, hoping I won’t stumble and fall.  The green tent is roughly two yards away, I hold my breath for a second.  Patrice was at the tent, I take several slow steps forward before returning to my regular pace.  The corners of my mouth turn up and I don’t even have to remind myself that I shouldn’t be mad at him, he doesn’t know I like him.  And even if he did he wasn’t obligated to ask me because of it if he didn’t like me. 
 “Patrick?”  I call over, hearing the smile in my voice; half wishing I didn’t.  He looks over, his ever constant smile present as always.  “Did you PR?”  I stop and shuffle around in the cooler for a water.
 “Yeah,” I glance up.
 “That’s great!”  I pause a minute, giving him the opportunity to ask if I did.  “I PRed by like, seven minutes.” 
 “Really?”  He raises an eyebrow, his smile growing slightly, I nod.
 “I’m exhausted.”  He laughed.  The exhaustion was worth it, it was worth his laughter. 
---
 I hear them laughing and I shove my nose in my book, trying to further distract myself from their words.  Finally I stand, announcing quietly that I was getting water.  They stood in a small circle, all of the high school boys with the exception of John.  He was ‘mentally incapacitated’ however more particularly known as retarded.  No one ever said it, but you could tell.  And I hated him, not because of his incapability’s.  Because he was a creepy, he stared at me and moved near me and I hated it, and I hated him.  For this to not seem very malevolent and terrible you must understand I hate most of everyone, he just happens to be the only of the Cross team that I hate.  If he were of average intelligence I would still hate him, it’s nothing of his retardation.  It’s just him, and I would like to break his nose. 
 I begin shaking, and no longer am able to control my breathing properly, it grows ragged and quick.  I hear them talking about homecoming, they say her name but I can’t make myself retain it.  I stand outside the doorway “I don’t think I can go to homecoming.”  He says; I hear his smile.
 “But you have to, its freshmen homecoming!”  This was Dillon; he was yet to ask Mia to the dance.  He was stalling, tomorrow, he’d said.  I’ll ask her tomorrow. 
 “I have an arm wrestling match that Saturday.”  I snickered at that; arm wrestling wasn’t really a sport.  Not that I’d ever tell Patrice that. 
 I hear Adam scoff slightly, “I’ll let you in on a little secret, homecoming isn’t that great.”  He was a senior; I assumed he’d gone to all of them, or at least some of them. 
 “What about her?”  Here they said her name and my blood went cold, and I choked on the air I was breathing, I fled down the hallway before I could hear more.  I wasn’t sure how much more of it I could take. 
 I stop just in front of the water fountain and stare at it, sighing I take a small sip of water, cringing at the taste I walk slowly back towards the classroom. 

~~One more week and it would be homecoming; we would be in the homecoming parade.  I tried to be excited, I tried not to let my disappointment ruin being in the parade, and I tried not to let it ruin my first real dance.  I unavoidably forgot about his date completely when he was around, but when he wasn’t it was terribly apparent.  He smiled at me and talked with me, and I swore sometimes I caught him watching me.  But quickly I allowed myself to dismiss these thoughts.  They couldn’t be true; if he liked me he would’ve asked me right?   At very least he wouldn’t have asked someone else.  With this argument I always heard myself whispering in return, “perhaps they were wrong.  Perhaps they were misinformed.  Perhaps he does like you and just didn’t want to ask.”  And each time I tried to dismiss these ideas. 
 I took deep ragged breaths and tried to stop it from being so erratic.  I struggled to breath and feel myself getting light headed, my knees buckle slightly and I reach out for something to steady me.  Without thinking I grab Patrick’s arm, he looks at me eyes suddenly wide with alarm.  “Are you okay?”  My shoulders go up and down in slow heavy movements; I can feel myself starting to hyperventilate when I can’t get my breathing under control.  I try to calm down but I can’t, the hyperventilation just gets worst.  I tighten my grip on his arm as my breathing continues to come in fast shallow gulps.  “Norah, calm down.  Norah.”  My knees buckle and I land on the pavement, “Coach,” He glances back, they we’re running off somewhere else on campus with everyone else.  It was a freak accident I was even in the same vicinity as Patrick and Adam, even more so that we we’re both on the track (Patrick and Adam almost always ran together on distance days) and Patrick had only stopped because he, well, really I wasn’t sure.  Panic is the majority of what takes up my mind at the moment.  “Adam.”  He calls across the track, his voice laced with the same panic I can’t express.  “Adam, we need help.”  I close my eyes tight and try to focus on breathing, tears are forming in the corners of my eyes I fight away the sobs that are building in the back of my throat.  Adam stops near us, breathing hard from sprinting over. 
 He drops to his knees and grabs my shoulder forcing me into a sitting position.  Tunnel vision.  “You need to stop hyperventilating.  Okay?  Calm down, deep breaths.  Slow down, slow down.”  In a disconnected sort of way I feel a tear trickling down my cheek, “calm down.”  I could feel myself calming down, but I could also feel the darkness of unconsciousness slowly enveloping me. 
   I opened my eyes, everyone was still running.  It had started to rain; Patrick was sitting cross legged in the grass with my head in his lap, his hands under my head; watching me with wide eyes.  I hear a relived sounding sigh escape his lips, and he smiles half heartedly.  “Can you get my inhaler?”  I ask in between deep troublingly hard to summon breaths.
---
 I stare at the screen of my phone for several seconds, thinking about whether or not to send a message to Dillon.  He had asked Mia two days prior, there were multicolored flowers and a big white poster with “Homecoming?”  written in large red letters.  I’d blushed more than either of them had when I was leaning heavily against the other side of the door in case Mia tried to leave before he asked.  I tried to pretend I didn’t feel sorry for myself for not having been asked.  I tried to pretend that he didn’t have a date and was going to ask me, since after all he seemed to like me.  But that’s all I did, try. 
 So now I stared at the message screen on my phone, the name Dillon printed in neat little letters above the blank text.  Slowly I typed out each word, carefully.  Calculating the most normal way to say what I wanted to.  We were friends, this was okay.  Or was it not?  It was so hard to tell. 
 “Still going to homecoming?  Speaking of homecoming!  Who is Patrick going with?”  One hour, thirty-four minutes, then he answered.
 “Patrick is going with Delilah McEnlie, I’m going with Mia.”  I held my breath, whispering to myself softly that I already knew this.  I already knew he had a date, his girlfriend.  I already knew, I already knew that.  I had just been confirming my own fears.  So why had my throat closed up?  Why were there tears in my eyes?  But just as soon as it happened it was over, and all I felt was the familiar numbness of pure defeat.  Numbness I had become very accustomed to over years of disappointment. 

~~I stared into his eyes and still felt nothing but the emptiness, this surprised me.  This hadn’t happened before, before I watched his smiling eyes and forgave him for things he didn’t even know he needed forgiven for.  Today I watched his eyes and noticed something I hadn’t before, they weren’t really smiling.  They smiled when he did, but otherwise they were unmoved, and almost seemed as though they were frowning.  But this couldn’t possibly happen, this couldn’t possibly.  I wondered for the first time if perhaps he wore a mask, a mask like mine.  I almost wanted to forgive him, but at the same time I didn’t. 
---
 I coughed as I sprinted around the track, I could feel myself checking out but I was so close.  I promised myself I would be fine even though my breathing was getting erratic and that was never good.  Still I sped up, it was only one hundred more meters, I could sprint one hundred meters.  No problem.  I hope. 
I stopped, hands on my hips.  I glance over at him, he stood several feet away.  Alone, one hand on the fence.  “Patrick?”  I say, my legs move towards him despite my objection.  He glances up and smiles, I try to catch the dead in his eyes, but it’s not there now.  “You know how people say if you think you’re crazy then you can’t be?”  
“Yeah.”  I hear the slight question in his answer, but to tell you the truth I have no idea what I’m saying.  The words just keep spilling out of my mouth without consulting my brain. 
“Don’t you think there has to be a level of insanity where you’re aware that you’re insane?  You know you’re crazy and you might hurt someone,”  I dig my finger nails into the palm of my hand.  I feel a psychotic laugh bubbling in the back of my throat and I fight it back down, I refused to make a fool of myself in front of him again.  I choke it back down with a cough and start over.  “You know you might hurt someone on accident, you know you should do something about it.  But you’re not sure you want to, and you know it’s a little too late.  You’re a little too close to madness.”  I glance up from the rock I’d had my eyes locked on, he still looked confused.  I continued, focusing my gaze just over his left shoulder.  Afraid to look into his eyes.  “You’re trying so hard to stay sane because that’s what everyone has always wanted of you, for you to be perfect and normal.  You know that’s it, everyone else.  That’s the only thing that keeps you pretending to be sane.  You know if you could just let yourself go into madness it would be so much better, so much easier.  You know that you would be better off, but no one wants that; just you.  You’re not even sure that you should want that, because you’ve spent your whole life being told that you need to be normal.  You need to act just like everyone else.  That’s the best way to live life, that’s how you’ll be happiest.”  I glance up at him again, he appears even more lost than ever.  I sigh, continuing anyway.  I don’t need him to understand, I just need to hear myself say the words out loud.  “But all of a sudden something accurse to you, maybe they don’t know because sanity is the only option for so many people.  You can’t make yourself go insane you know.”  His eyes start to clear, start to suggest he’s grasping vaguely what I’m trying to say.  Even though I’m not even sure I understand.  “Maybe madness is better, it’s dangerous for everyone around you; depending on your brand of insanity.  But maybe you’d be better off.  Maybe you would be better.” 
“What if someone else gets hurt?” He asks softly, looking directly into my eyes.  I hold my breath. 
“If I like you, I want you to feel pain, and to know mine.  If I hate you I want to kill you, if I love you I’ll do anything to keep you from harm.”  I glance away from him, but find that his eyes don’t leave my face. 
“What do you want of me?”  I hold my breath for a long moment, then smile at him before I turn and walk away. 

~~Two days until homecoming.
 I wondered now if I could persuade him to dance with me, just one dance.  But I knew I wouldn’t, I wasn’t foolish.  Or not nearly so foolish as I would have everyone believe, and it would be foolish to ask him to dance.  Right?  I believe so; anyway he was taking a date from a different school so it would be rather uncomfortable for them to be parted long.  I shuffle through my bag for my phone slowly, stalling; waiting for Patrick to be ready to leave so I could walk out with him.  I didn’t want to; I wanted to walk out the door without him but I couldn’t, I had to wait.  He smiled, and laughed.  His mood was bright and I constantly reminded myself that I was not allowed to hug him, I wanted to wrap my arms around his waist and lean my head against his shoulder, finally I leave.  Hesitating in the threshold “Bye guys.”  I call behind me, silently promising myself to blow him away at homecoming.  I drop myself into the shotgun seat in the small blue car parked out from; he reaches the edge of the sidewalk the same time as the car pulls up in front of him.  Mother dearest waves him on.  I watch as he passes, he pauses just past the car and turns around.  My breath turns solid in my throat as he waves and I smile waving back.  As we drive away I smile and wonder if perhaps he does like me.  
---
One day until homecoming.
 I sat on the edge of the trucks bed, nestled safely inside my team hoodie.   I watched him indiscreetly as he laughed from the other side of the truck; he talked loudly to Adam about the football game.  I hardly listen but I hear everything “I’m not staying for the game; I have to paint my bedroom walls.”  The conversation turned dull quickly as he mentioned the color of the paint.  We make up a silly game, we all laugh the whole time.  After what seems like a very long time I stepped into the game, after another half an hour or so I saw him.  Immediately I ran, I sprinted half the track to get away from him smiling at his girlfriend; I sprinted the track at least two times if you added all the times together.  I spent the majority of the game running away.

~~Game day. 
 It was eight; the doors were still closed even though that was the time the dance was supposed to start.  Somehow I’d managed to survive the day, and had spent the last two hours making myself look presentable.  I walked into the building with goose bumps covering my arms and legs, the music was already blaring and as soon as I found Marie her girlfriend, Danni, and Chelsea we run to the front of the room.  A large circle of grinders was in the middle of the room, the section of the room I would be averting my eyes for the rest of the night. 
 The music blared straight from the speakers into my ear and I danced.  I pulled off my heels and jumped up and down on the tips of my toes; I pumped my fist and nodded my head.  I stop during a slow dance and move to the side of the room to catch my breath.  I close my eyes when I see him near the side of the room, dancing with someone else.  I shift in my dress, readjusting the pink ruffles.  Chelsea and Danni sunk to the floor beside me as I carefully folded my legs underneath me “you okay?”  I watch him silently for a moment.
 Then nod slowly, “yeah” which is a lie.  But I didn’t use my allowance to get into this dance to be miserable and have no fun.  “I just don’t like slow dances unless I have someone to dance with.” 
 They glanced at each other; Chelsea smiled at Danni who then smiled at me.  “Then dance with us.”  I looked over, Marie and Lilia slow danced together and smiled at each other and felt something like a big ball of metal that should’ve been my heart sunk to the bottom of my stomach.  I wanted something like that, not exactly I don’t think.  But basically, Chelsea and Danni dragged me onto the dance floor.  Allowing us to be the only three people not slow dancing during the song. 
 By the end of the night I had a killer headache, and I didn’t manage to sleep it off. 

~~Exactly one week later.
 It was cold, I mean; it was really cold, which was why it was the perfect day for my sweatpants to go missing; which was why the car sat in front of the school for two full minutes before I got out.  That Saturday morning, ten minutes before the bus would get there to drive an hour to the meet.  Patrick was standing around in the small circle formed by the rest of our team.  His head slightly tilted towards my car, he glances over quickly when I shut the door.  Wrapping my arms around myself I yawn “hey guys.”  Coach looks over, Adam glances down at me, and Patrick visible tries not to look at me but after several seconds he glances over and smiles.  “I’m so tired.  I went home to see the Northeastern game, it ended at nine thirty and somehow I got home at midnight.  Which makes zero sense because it only takes an hour to get back to Columbus.”  I yawn again,
 “Oh,” Coach glances at Mrs. Kenly (our assistant coach) and a small foolish smile creeps across her face.  “Well, I have great news for you also.  Today you get to be the Northridge high school girls’ team.” 
Adam moves over towards me, placing a hand briefly on my shoulder.   I freeze, hoping if I keep still enough he’ll stay a bit longer.  “Have fun with that.”
 I can’t keep the smirk from my face or my voice when I murmured back “I won’t” he grins.  I look over at Patrick through the corner of my eye; he was talking to Marty who ordinarily didn’t make it to our meets because he also played soccer.  His light brown hair curled, I wasn’t sure of his eye color.  I’d never checked.  Patrick smiled, I smiled.  I liked him, I liked him too much. 
 Saturday was a good day.  When I told my friends that they asked why, they said nothing overly unusual happened.  I knew that, but nothing bad happened either.  I’d spent the whole day with Patrick, which I considered a good day, even though he’d caught me watching a couple of times.  On the bus ride home we talked a lot, I was rewarded with flashes of his smile.  His eyes sparkled when we talked and I periodically wondered what would happen if I told him. 

Monday:
 I limp slightly throughout the day because of a pain in my shins, and Achilles.  I let my book bag’s weight rest on my more sensitive side, pain.  It only made me limp more, and I could feel my mouth twisting into a grimace from the pressure of my books leaning heavily on my left side.  But I let this happen; it was as simple as understanding; as simple as comprehension and ability to handle physical pain.  Physical pain is in fact much easier to handle then emotional.  This is a lesson that I’ve learned again, and again, and again.  Starting in the sixth grade, still without an ending; never have I caused myself physical pain on purpose.  But I allow the pain to come and eat me alive if it comes naturally, and if it’s too much to handle then I request help.  Or I move my book bag to my other shoulder.  But it wasn’t too much for me to handle, not just yet.  But I still limped slightly; I still had a slightly perpetual grimace on my face.  
 By eight period the limp was gone, whether that was because I suddenly got very good at ignoring pain or not I wasn’t entirely sure.  I walked towards Mrs. Kenly’s room when the dismissing bell rung, holding my hand out slightly to steady myself as a sudden wave of lightheadedness washed over me.  After several seconds it passed and I assumed all was well, for the most part it was.  Really, nothing even happened until the last one hundred I sprinted around the track.
 After what seemed like a very long but actually a very regular lengthened practice coach looked over at me “One more and you’re done.”  I nodded silently, taking a deep breath.  “Go.”  I opened my mouth and tried to focus on breathing, the pain in my shins was splitting.  Exceedingly painful, I begged myself not to stop.  It’s just a one hundred, you’re already halfway done.  You can’t stop now.  But I slowed down anyway, just a little bit.  My shoulders sunk down then went back up as I sprinted, sensing the hyperventilation coming on.  I was so close though, my breathing was hard and ragged and when I finally stopped it just got worst.  I wasn’t hyperventilating yet however, I bent down to pick up my inhaler but my hands shook so hard that it took several seconds.  I took the cap off but didn’t take it right away, waiting for my breathing to calm down; it didn’t.  Adam looked over at me for a long moment.
 “Are you okay?”  This was my usual signal that my breathing was getting very bad.  He didn’t ask unless he could tell there was something wrong.  I nod my head, sure that I could speak but not wanting to waste the breaths.  He didn’t take his gaze away.  “Are you sure?”  I nodded again.  He kept watching as it didn’t get any better over the course of several minutes.  Patrick watched me through the corner of his eyes.  I took my inhaler then set it down next to me as we started stretches, my breathing calmed and Adam focused on stretching.  I took a sudden heavy breath that was disturbingly hard to summon.  Patrick and Adam’s heads both swiveled in my direction immediately.  Adam raised a quizzical eyebrow.  “Are you okay?”  He asked again,
 “Yes.”  I say softly, even though I can feel my heart beating and I can see it moving my chest visibly, even though my hands are shaking uncontrollably hard.  Adam hesitantly focuses back on his stretching, Patrick, though pretending not to have noticed still watches vaguely.  His head slightly turned towards me, his eyes watching me worriedly. 

~~Tuesday,
 Adam glanced over at me, still wearing my regular cloths sitting on top of a desk swinging my legs with a book in my lap.  A favorite past time of mine, unfortunately I was busy watching someone die.  And it was just as horrific as seeing it happen in real life, falling in love with them.  Then seeing them deteriorate even before they’ve died and you find yourself selfishly wishing they would just die already so you could stop your own pain.  Not theirs, you’re far too selfish for that.  Of course I’d never had this happen to someone in real life.  No one I’ve ever really cared about died, people call it denial, I let them think that so I don’t have to go to therapy when I tell them I’m not upset because I don’t care.  I know that’s wrong, it’s one of the infinite things wrong with me that I, for the sake of my self-preservation pretend don’t exist.  I know if someone like Adam or Patrick died, I would care.  I would care so much my heart would crack and spill out all over itself.  I know that I would drown in my own self despair and tears and the unfairness would nag at me until it suffocated me and killed me.  I knew if someone like Adam or Patrick died, it would kill me.  But no one I’d really cared about had ever died, only family.  The thing about family was I only cared about them in a sort of detached way, whether they were there or not.  It didn’t affect me, I had to care about them or something was wrong with me.  So I did something I did a lot, I pretended.  Adam crocked his eyebrow and inspected me with concern.  “Are you not running today?”  I nod, glancing up from my book.
 “Yeah,” my shin splints were acting up a little, but not nearly enough to keep me from running.  However I didn’t particularly enjoy the idea of explaining to him my lack of sports bra at the moment. 
 “Hm, Your shin splints?”
“Yea,” I murmur, looking back down at my book.  He looked worried and I felt bad about lying to him; but not nearly bad enough to tell him that I didn’t bring the right bra.  I continued reading; he looked over at Mia and said something about me being the only uninjured runner.  Silently I promise him that I would work harder tomorrow, and the rest of the season.  I didn’t want Adam to be disappointed, especially not in me.  I find it funny that they assume I’m not listening just because I’ve started reading again.  Not that they were saying bad things.  I wasn’t really even listening until Adam looked over at me,
“She’s nice, nicer than the other girls,” Augustus was dying slowly, slowly and I racked my fingers through my hair.  Wondering why he couldn’t just die and be done.  It took me a moment to process what he’d said.  The other girls on the team were really nice, he was complimenting me.  I don’t smile outwardly but my heart smiles a little bit.  It makes me feel better, and worst about lying to him.  I wondered if that meant he was my friend, but you can think someone’s really nice and still not be their friend. 
You never realize that you were being yourself until you move away and then you have to try to fit into this perfect mold because otherwise maybe no one will like you and you’ll be all alone and no one wants to be all alone.  When I mumbled my apology to coach for forgetting my cloths that day this thought hadn’t even occurred to me, most of the things I thought about didn’t even begin to occur to me until I was all alone and somehow managed to stumble upon them.  I walked outside towards the track with everyone else in my street cloths, Patrick wasn’t there but I’d seen his running shoes in Kenly’s room so I knew he’d be here eventually.  Once they were done stretching and had started running they’re distance workout around the campus I started walking around the track, and that’s when I started to ponder these things. 
I want to hear myself speak as I walk around the track with the cold biting at me but at the same time I don’t want to interrupt the silent sanctuary of myself.  This was what it was like when I didn’t want to talk, because in then silence I could hide within myself, safe and sound.  I could curl up and hide, and where there were vocalized words there was an unhidden unguarded part of me showing; and unfortunately that part of me was quite often my heart. 
Five or six laps in, Patrick still hadn’t showed up.  I wasn’t so much worried as annoyed, but I wouldn’t have been if I’d thought something was wrong.  I wanted to see him, I suddenly wanted him to prove to me that he was safe and I could trust him.  I’d love to trust him the way I trusted Adam, but that was vastly different.  I didn’t like Adam, or I did but I didn’t.  He was the kind of person you automatically either click with or hate.  I happened to click due to similar senses of somewhat mean hearted humor (though mine more infinite then his) and also because of the first day of practice.  He remembered my name, of course everyone knew it now that season was almost over (something I was suddenly deathly afraid of) he was the first, and frankly that was most important.  He was also nice, even if he pretended not to be.  Even his teasing was good natured and not truly intended to be insulting, well, not insulting in the way it would make you cry or anything.  Just too kind of put you in place, but really if he never picked on you he was either afraid to break you in your fragility (as it sometimes seemed was my case) or he didn’t really like you at all.  If he insulted you it was generally safe to assume he liked you, unless of course he was rough with you and definitely trying to insult you.  He did that too, but not to me.  I found him somewhat easy to trust, really I didn’t think about it.  I didn’t need too, I couldn’t think of any real reason to be afraid to trust him because I couldn’t really see him betraying me.  He was the kind of person you trusted with your life without a second thought even if his sense of humor was slightly unfriendly sounding I knew it was all in good fun, and so did everyone else. 
Patrick walked out as the rest of the team was stretching, he had his book bag.  I cringe, and then realize he didn’t have his running shoes.  They were back in the classroom; I smile with my back to him, he was going to have to walk back with me to get them.  Okay not me, us.  But it was basically the same thing anyway.  Daniel saw him approaching, “I thought you were only supposed to be ten minutes late.”  Patrick smiled; I choke on the urge to wrap my arms around his waist. 
“I thought so too.”
“It’s been a bit more than ten minutes.”  I smile at him, he grins back. 

---
Wednesday
 A yellow jacket flew dangerously close to my upper right arm; I make a small child like squeak and flee to the other side of the circle of people waiting for the next mile repeat to start.  “Norah, you need to hold still,”  I cover my face with my hands as Adam starts to talk, through the cracks in my fingers I see him move forward towards me, “if you run away its going to sting you.”  He places a hand on my shoulder and I hold perfectly still.  Wanting him to stay, I was jealous of his brother.  I wanted Adam to be my older brother instead of just my teammate, and it almost seemed like he didn’t even see what he had.  I had a general habit of associating siblings with abuse but I liked Adam, he was okay and I don’t think he would hurt me.  I think he’d keep me safe, Adam was safe; I think that was what I liked best about him.  His hand left my shoulder as he walked over to the start for his second mile repeat; Patrick glanced back over at me as he walked away.  Another yellow jacket flew near me and I held my breath and didn’t move an inch.

~~
Thursday
 It was a dumb joke, I’ll admit that.  I didn’t even think about it when I said it to Chelsea because everyone at our lunch table made the same joke every day.  So when she got mad about it I apologized, twice actually.  Then we got to the subject of sexual, matters.  “I’m a straight virgin!”  I said this every time they started talking about stuff like this, they were used to it. 
 “You don’t have to sit here.”  She snarled from across the table, I laughed, I thought she was kidding.  I might have a bit too much faith in some people. 
 “Who would I sit with?  I don’t know anyone else in this lunch period.”  She pointed several feet away at the floor.
 “There, or you don’t have to talk to anyone.”  She kept on like that for a while and it wasn’t even that bad, I think what was worst was that everyone else just watched me.  Waiting for me to leave.
 “You want me to leave?  Fine.”  So I sat with Mariea at another table, she yelled at them when she found out what had happened, instantly protective of me, but that didn’t take away what she said, it didn’t take away the way they had just sat there watching me.  I felt sick to my stomach, but not like I was going to cry, I wasn’t stupid.  I’d already known, I just hadn’t admitted it. 
 “What’s the difference when they make that joke?”  Mariea muttered, I almost laughed.  She really didn’t get it. 
 “The difference is they don’t like me.  That’s the difference, Mariea.”  I wanted to find Adam and tell him, because he was smart.  He would know what to do, but I had a bad feeling he’d tell me things I’d already thought of.  Don’t sit there anymore.  But I don’t know anyone else in my lunch period.  Oh.  Maybe I should ask him, but I doubt he’ll know.  Everyone loves him; he would never have a problem like this. 
---  
Friday
It wasn’t like things like this hadn’t happened to me before, however when they happened before it was with people I’d known forever and I knew I was friends with them and they were friends with me.  Before it was for a legitimate reason and they apologized afterwards.  Never had it been people I’d known for a month or two, people who I’d just recently learned they’re names.  Mariea wasn’t here; this was what was really concerning at the moment; since I apparently didn’t have any other friends at the table.  Finally when the bell for seventh period rung.  Instead of walking into the cafeteria I turned a good fifty yards from its hallway into the bathroom.  Sitting down on the floor in front of the wall length mirror to eat my lunch.  So that’s what I did, sat on the dirty grimy floor of the bathroom all during lunch, and no one even noticed. 
My wrist ached; I wondered if I had a fractured bone or something.  Adam would know, maybe I can ask him if he knows how to check before practice started.  I picked up my book bag with my left hand when the bell rings, and instantly dropped it.  Cringing from the pain, now.  I can ask him to check now.  I knew where he was now, in coach’s room.  He was her student assistant during this period I just hoped he would already be there.  I poke my head in the doorway and sigh slightly in relief when I saw him already sitting at her desk.  He glanced up at me and nodded vaguely in greeting. 
“Adam?”  He looks up again.  “Can you tell if a bone is fractured?”  He nodded slightly.
“Yeah, probably.  Why?”  I held out my writs as he walked towards me, and when he pressed his fingers against my skin I cringed.  Hoping he figured out what was wrong with me.  Slightly hoping, I noticed, that he would notice something was off.  Notice something was wrong with me and ask.  But I knew he wouldn’t, because I knew I’d gotten very good at pretending. 
“Can I ask you something else?” 
“Sure.”  He looks at me with slightly raised eyebrows, so I told him exactly what happened yesterday.  “What happened today?” 
“I ate on the restroom floor.”  He laughs slightly, but not unkindly, not at me. 
“Sounds unsanitary.”  I nod
“What should I do?”  He pauses slightly, looking at me.
“Do you want me to wrap it?  I think it’s just a sprain.”  I nod again,
“Do you know what I should do?”  He shrugs.
“Sit somewhere else.”
“I don’t know anyone else in my lunch period.”  The pressure presented by the cloth hurt at first, when I cringed he paused, unwrapped, and rewrapped more loosely. 
“That’ll take some pressure off of it.”
“Do you know what I should do?”  I ask one more time, I hear my voice crack under the pressure of the tears threatening to come spilling out.  I couldn’t let myself cry in front of Adam; I couldn’t let him see me like that.  But he must have heard because when he looked back at me his eyes were slightly wider and he looked a lot more concerned. 
“Just sit somewhere else.”  He said softly. 

~~Saturday
 The high was fifty.  On the bright side I’d finally found my sweat pants.  I yawn and wrap my arms around myself trying to keep warm on the several yard walk to the school.  I push lightly on the door and it opens, Adam looks up at me from the floor and mumbles “morning Norah.”  I make a small grunting noise in response; not really feeling like talking that early in the morning.  I glance over when Patrick walked in and smiled at him in a way that I could tell looked half asleep.  He was wearing a brown leather jacket over his jersey; I couldn’t help thinking how my leather was classier.  Mine was black, and it hung loosely enough that you couldn’t see where I curved but it didn’t look bad.  I definitely looked better in mine then he did in his. 
The door swung open again and we all spilled out into the freezing morning air, herding ourselves towards the bus.  I touched my wrist to feel the wrap still on it, much less sore then it had been yesterday.  I lean my head against the bus seat as I sit relatively close to the back with the rest of the older team members.  I glance over at Patrick who was laughing at something Marty said, he wore a ridicules mock top hat covered in yellow smiley faces with a purple brim.  I smile to myself as I close my eyes and listen to his voice, not paying particular attention to the words he was saying. 
The rain and hail dampened the experience of the meet, but we ran out and screamed for our middle schoolers anyway.  When they’re race ended it was still pouring down rain, but the hail had stopped; at least temporarily.  Adam looked down at his watch, then back up at us.  The sound of urgency and intensity in his voice slightly took me off guard when he spoke.  “If you have extra cloths put it on now and fallow me to the finish line.”  He took off then, jogging over Patrick and I fallowed as soon as we got our shoes on.  Our three girls shivered, one in Adam’s lettermen, one in his raincoat, and one in Patrick’s leather.  I didn’t have anything exempt the team hoodie that I somewhat needed myself.  Since there were only three girls they didn’t really need it anyway, they were all covered. 
I walked back to camp, then with the other two high school girls running today to the start line.  Where we promptly noticed a surprising lack of high school girls.  Only boys, after asking one of the other teams, and discovering there had been a schedule change I was given the task of finding the high school boys.  Camp and the finish line were the obvious answers, and that’s where I found most of the team.  Exempt for Patrick, after about ten minutes of my heart rate spiking found him lingering by the finish, he hadn’t been there before.  I grabbed his upper left arm, panting slightly from running so much.  “Patrick,”
“Shouldn’t you be warming up?”  He smiles but looks at me with slightly concerned eyes.
“Your race is before mine.”  His smile falters, a suddenly serious expression sweeps over his face.  He nods,
“See you there.”  As it turns out, the schedule had been mucked up worst then we thought, big school race then little school.  We fell into the little school category, we had half an hour before they’re race was supposed to start. 
After about twenty minutes of them warming up Patrick turned around holding his leather by the shoulders and looked at me, then over my shoulder at the other two girls who weren’t really listening. “Someone want to wear this while I’m running so it stays warm?” Without really responding I slip one arm into the sleeve, he turned it slightly to help me into the other then turns back around to start his run outs.  I smile fiercely but manage to stop before he turns back to see my face; downsizing to a mild grin.   I wrapped my arms around myself and bounced on the balls of my heels as the wind picked up slightly, and while he’s turned around I find myself kissing the cuff of the sleeve. 
An hour or so later.
 I slipped my damp shoes off on the bus and change into a dry pair of socks, pulling my legs up against my chest, wrapping my arms around them and leaning my head against the seat.  My eyes flutter at Adam lay down awkwardly in the seat, I grin slightly at the sight of him; noting that I’m still thinking of Patrick’s jacket. 
 “Norah,” He tapped my leg lightly, “wake up.  We’re at the school.”  I glance out the window and murmur a thank you. 

~~--- A whole week later
 I ran a 30:51, came in and nearly fell over at the end of the shoot, leaning heavily on a metal pole at the end, after the boys ran I found Patrick and Marty and fallowed them around to cheer for the middle school girls, I knew that I if I didn’t fallow immediately Patrick wouldn’t turn around and wait for me the way he did for Marty because they were friends and we weren’t but I tried not to because it felt nice to walk around and talk to him.  After awhile we stopped back at the tent and we all sat down, I yawned.  Marty lay down, “I’m taking a nap.” 
 “Me too.”  When they both lay down I moved several feet away and curled into a ball, planning on staying fully awake.  I listened to the sound of his voice for several minutes, Marty’s voice blurred and I almost didn’t hear it but when Patrick spoke I heard everything he said.  After awhile I fell asleep, and when I woke up I was slightly surprised no one had woke me up before that point, or molested me or killed me or something like that.  Call me paranoid but there was a reason I didn’t fall asleep around people I wasn’t sure it was okay to trust. 
Roughly five hours later
 I woke up from a deep sleep in my freezing bedroom, I knew that I should just get up and turn off my fan but I didn’t want to.  I stared at the ceiling and silently listened to the swishing sound the fan made thinking about the dream I’d just had.  It looked like a regular practice, we were all standing in a circle talking when a wasp stung me (I know it was a wasp because it didn’t die and well also it just looked like a wasp).  Its stinger was all stuck inside me and it started biting me so I ran across the circle to Adam and I reached out to hold his hand and I hide my face in his side and he squeezed my hand when I started to hold on tighter while someone else pulled out the wasp.  I thought it was curious though that the dream was about Adam and I don’t even remember Patrick being in the dream. 

--- Monday
 Patrick didn’t come to practice until the last five minute because he had History Club and it ran unusually late.  When he came we were already walking off the track, he said he had to stay around for another hour so he was going to get a run in even though he missed practice.  So when I walked in I kept looking back and thinking of him running around the track alone thinking of someone else. 

--- Tuesday
 I walk down the hall, and when I see Patrick a near silent sigh escapes my lips.  My shoulders slump back down slightly, relaxing.  As I near him I see as he glances over at me, waiting for me to say hello like I always do.  But when I look at him his eyes flutter away, “Hey Patrick.”  He glances back over.
 “Hey.” 

--- Saturday

 I pause, staring at the start line before approaching it.  All morning I’d been avoiding thinking about the fact that this was the last meet of the season, and I knew the second the gun fired I’d have nothing else to think of.  I hesitate, and then slip my sweats off.  The race loomed nearer and nearer in my future, the previous race had been the boys.  They’d all done great, at least nearing their PR.  Patrick rolled his ankle, after the race Adam piggy backed him back to the tent.  I was worried about him, and I was dying because next year Adam wouldn’t be around.  What if someone rolls their ankle next year?  Who’s going to wrap it?  Adam was always the one who did that.  How are they going to get back to camp?  None of us are strong enough to carry anyone, I guess they could just lean on one of us.  But it wouldn’t be nearly as effective.  A whistle blows; I stop stretching and move directly in front of the start line.  I hear Adam behind me, “good luck Norah, Diana.”  The gun fires and it turns out that I was wrong.  I couldn’t think of anything but the pain in my ankle and the way the cool air burned my lungs.  The race dragged on and on, until finally I was across the finish.  I glanced back at the clock, 33:24.  I look further down the chute, Adam, Daniel and Hunter where standing there waiting for me.  I stared at Adams shoes when he says without any sign of disappointment.  Maybe he didn’t know my regular time, but that was only hopeful thinking; I knew he at least had a vague idea of it.  He was ignoring my poor time as a personal favor.  “Hunter has water for you.”  I took it without looking at any of them.
 “Thanks” I murmur.  After a couple of steps I glance up at Adam.  Fixing my eyes just above his left shoulder, hoping he doesn’t notice.  “Do you know what time I ran?” 
 “I think Couch had 33:24 down.”  I nod slightly.  “You did a good job.”  He says reassuringly.  I nod again.
 “Thanks.”  But in my head I hear over and over, pathetic, failure. 

~~--- 
More than a week later.
 
 I was just sitting there wondering what I was supposed to do with my life now, trying to get an A in history and only having a B even though I knew all the material.  Staring into the ever blackening pit of my life, begging Adam silently to know I was dying.  Begging him to see it in the way I stood slumped over, the way I wouldn’t meet anyone’s eyes, the way my laugh was strangled, the way my smile was broken, but I knew he didn’t see these things because my mask was so well painted.  I would have to ask him, I would have to tell him.  So I did.  I emailed him about the ex who was now dating one of my friends, I told him it hurt, I told him I felt like an idiot, I told him I wanted to stop feeling so stupid, I wanted to know what to do.  I told him as indirectly as I could that I wanted him to tell me.  And he said something that immediately saved my life.  He said “I don’t know what to tell you.  I’ve never had something like that happen to me, I’ve been in one relationship and it wasn’t really that serious.  But I think you should just try to keep away from the situation.  You can ask me for help anytime you want, just know I might not know what to tell you.”  And he saved my life; I don’t even think he knew he did.  That was the best part, he didn’t even me to.  He held out his hand and pulled me away from the edge of the cliff. 

--- Several weeks later

                It became part of my schedule to look for him in the hall, smiling and saying hello when I did see him.  Right before fourth period study hall, on my way to fifth period, and occasionally before first period.  I talked to Adam on a somewhat regular basis and hardly ever worried about whether or not I was actually his friend.  But sometimes I worried about whether or not he was real.  He was the type of person I would make up, and the thought frightened me.  He was definitely the type of person I’d make up, and I wasn’t sure I could survive in a place where Adam was imaginary.  Sometimes a large metal ball settled into the pit of my stomach and I feel a sharp panic in the back of my mind.  It doesn’t usually go away until I see him again or email him and satisfy my imagination; convincing myself that yes he is real.  

--- Exactly two days later

                It all started slipping out of my fingers, getting darker and darker and darker until suddenly I wasn’t even sure that Adam could help me find my way back.  I stared at the wall from my seat with my homework sitting in front of me, homework for the class that I had next period.  Homework that wasn’t even sort of close to finished.  Considering things that were selfish.  Wondering where my parents kept the sleep meds, wondering when I could get myself alone with a handful.  Wondering who I would give my notebooks too, and suddenly I was standing up and walking over to the table were Mrs. Ale was sitting reading a book oblivious to the boys in the back of the room screaming profanities.  I smile a very well adapted, real looking smile.  “May I go to the restroom?”  She handed me a hall pass without another word and as soon as I was out of the room I headed in towards the restroom, and walked straight past it down the hall, then turned into the math and science hall.  Then stopping several feet away from the art room, I stared at the door, then sat down against a locker.  Closing my eyes, but after a while the thoughts were back and I stood, wrapped my hand around the door knob and opened it, “Excuse me?”  My voice is quite and I take a quick step back when the teacher looks up at me “I need to speak with Adam Clark, if that’s not a problem Sir.”  He glances to the back of the class where Adam was looking up at me with mild concern and I wanted to run away from the room, out the school doors, into the bathroom….  I shivered, and begin visibly shaking.  I could only hope the teacher didn’t notice,

                “Okay.”  He nodded back at Adam who stood and left the room after me.

                “What’s up?”

                “I…  I’m… I thought, and…”  I couldn’t make the words come out of my mouth.  When I tried to say them my throat closed up in an effort to keep them a secret from him.  I cough hard, “you looked like you were working on something important, should you get back to that Adam?”  He didn’t respond, he just watched me as I looked up at him,

                “I was sitting in study hall and, I’m really sorry I dragged you out of class…  You’re probably really busy.”  I turn and try to leave but he grabs my upper arm and I freeze.  Ice crawls up my spine, and instinctively I’m afraid he’s going to hurt me but the fact that I know its Adam keeps me from spinning around and breaking his nose. 

                “Tell me, I’m already out here.”

                “I was sitting in study hall thinking about what it would be like if I just took a handful of sleeping meds.”  He stared at me for a long time without saying anything, and after several seconds my eyes shifted to the hall floor but I could still feel his eyes on me.

                “Why?”  His voice is whispery and confused and in a disconnected sort of way I realize that tears are carving their way through my makeup.  I shake my head slowly, feeling the shaking get worst, and my knees weaken, “Don’t,” the words come out fast and impulsive.   “Tell me why; tell me how to fix it.”  The tears are coming faster now, and by sheer willpower alone am I still standing.  I glance down at his hands and quietly note the way they shake slightly.

                “I don’t know, sixth grade, and seventh, and this year.”

                “Why this year?”  He asks his voice is near silent. 

                “Do you know why I’m even here?  Why I even came to Northwood?  Really?”  He paused, his brow furrowed like he was trying to remember what I’d told him.  But I hadn’t and that was exactly my point.  “Mother went to the hospital.” 

                “I’m sorry, was there an accident?  Is she sick?”  I shake my head, my hair making the soft swishing sounds of silk as it shifts around my ears. 

                “No, it’s not that kind of hospital.”  My eyes shift to the wall to my left.  He pauses for a second and his mouth opens slightly in a silent oh, then he watches me silently.  I figure I might as well continue, “She got arrested once, which lead up to the first time she went, and she took me with her.  It wasn’t like it was unplanned.  She’d asked my older sister to come to so she could drive but she was in a bad mood and said no.  So she just took me, when she knew she would get arrested.  When they took me home I had to sit in the backseat of the police car.  I don’t know if you knew but the backseat is for criminals.”  He nodded slightly; of course he knew his dad was a cop.  Besides everyone knows that, and he isn’t stupid. 

                “I’m sorry,” He says softly.  I shake my head and feel the thoughts slipping away from me again

                “Just don’t go away.”  I mutter, he reaches out and grabs my shoulder.

                “You can count on it.”  He smiled his lopsided grin and just beneath the surface I can see that he won’t be able to see me the same ever again, he turns around to go back to class,

                “Just don’t forget who I am.”  I say, I slip away down the hallway.  Not even stopping when I hear his footsteps pause and him turn around.  

--- Saturday

                I wouldn’t have gone to the swim meet had it not been so close to my house and had Adam and some of my “friends” not been on the team.  Even so I was pretty sure I didn’t want Adam to know that I was there because what if he didn’t want me there?  I sure as hell didn’t exactly feel like I belonged there, the smell of chlorine heavy and  strangely alluring all but drown out the smell of the strawberry shampoo and cranberry body wash I always smelled like, the humidity of the air fought with the chill that radiated from the wall made of window across the room and had me putting my jacket on and taking it back off again, the sound of the water splashing as people dove into the pool and people screaming at the top of their lungs for their kids and teams,  I even almost longed for this to be part of my life, but I still felt like a large metal ball in the middle of a padded room and I was starting to wish that I’d worn something less familiar, to compensate I took my glasses off and started chewing on the ends.  Knowing that out of season he’d gotten used to seeing me with my glasses on so it would take him a bit longer to recognize me without them; three seconds at longs, a fraction of one at least but after a while I have to put them back on because I’m tired of not being able to tell who’s who on the Northwood team.  So I start just hoping his eyesight was just a lot crappier then he thought it was.  I glance over across the pool to where he’s standing there in his usual awful postured posture talking to his coach, and for several seconds it seems like he’s looking up at the bleachers at me.  I abruptly yank off my glasses and focus completely on the swimmers in the water, none of which were even Northwood.  After about two minutes I glance back up, at present he was screaming at one of their swimmers that was now in the water and making ridiculous arm motions that I assume was how he was supposed to be swimming, I feel the smile form on my face and am only slightly annoyed by it. 

                Almost a full thirty minutes later a relay started, I watched as several of the boys dived in.  After a minute I noticed a Northwood boy at the back of the line, his build was very similar to Adams and I was almost eighty percent sure that it was him, but with the swim cap and goggles on I couldn’t be entirely sure.  After several seconds of intense study I came to the conclusion that it was in fact Adam.  He was last, which I was pretty sure meant he was the strongest swimmer; or I assumed he was I know absolutely nothing about swim.  Maybe he was last because he sucked, but then he dove into the pool in a sucked in a painfully sharp breath.  I didn’t know a lot about swimming but compared to the ones before him it was impressive, he was ridiculously fast and I found myself smiling and resisting the urge to cheer for him (I didn’t even know how to cheer at Cross, I had a feeling I wouldn’t do much better here).  He wasn’t first, but second is still great.  He waited in the pool until the last person finished as I assume is what is considered good sportsmanship in swim even though no one else did, which made me like him a bit more then I already did, then he got out of the pool and I watched him wonder back towards his coach. 

 I see Amy walking by the side of the pool that the bleachers are on, and slip over to the edge of them and call to her.  She runs up the bleachers and we start laughing, after several minutes I glance behind me and slide down sitting on my haunches saying it was because I didn’t want to be in the way of people, but mostly because I didn’t want Adam to see me; just in case.  After about a minute in that position my legs started to cramp so I stood up, several seconds after that Adam started to make his way to the other side of the pool and I held my breath silently praying that he still hadn’t noticed me even though it was even more unlikely now that I was standing in the very front section of the bleacher.  After a few more seconds he was occupying the space between Amy and me,

                “Hey person I know.”

                “Hey Adam,” I smile, I was glad to see him.  It was reflects, and besides if he really hadn’t wanted me here he wouldn’t have come up to me.  I hadn’t made him; he was talking to me on his own accord.  He grins down at me; his hair was a mess after the relay.  It looked like he rolled out of bed, and someone tried to suck it up a vacuum cleaner.  “Your hair looks awful.”  I smile up at him and he laughs,

                “I know, I always look like crap and by the end of the meet I’m going to sound like a ten year smoker from all the screaming.”  I laugh,

                “So is it good swimming manners to wait for the last person to finish to get out of the pool?” 

                “Yeah, besides I didn’t want to get disqualified.  They don’t usually but just to be safe.”  Always the careful one. 

                A man sitting behind us, presumably someone’s coach, asked us to move because we were hella in the way.  So he very kindly apologizes and when we walked away to further our discussion he broke out laughing.  We talked for another ten to fifteen minutes before he said goodbye and wondered off.  I walk back up the bleachers and pick an empty seat in the first row, singing to myself just under the volume of the screaming crowd for the rest of the hour before the meet ended and I ignored the fact that every once in a while Adam glanced over to check on me.  I sat there reminding myself periodically; no one would dare touch you knowing that there is an older stronger boy looking after you here.  

--- Roughly one week later on a Wednesday

                Panic swelled in my chest when I watched the large metal doors of the choir room.  In two and a half hours I would be standing in there auditioning for a role, any role, in this year’s musical.  My first high school musical.  Though I had once before been in a theater group.  I slipped in after Marie and sung along as she played the piano, until she started playing other punk rock songs I’d never heard before.  Then I just sat and listened.  I glance behind me when I hear the door close and suddenly in the corner beside the door are four people, one had already been there.  Next to them was Adam, watching somewhat impatiently as his girlfriend wrote her name on the addition sheet for tomorrow, Hunter Adams little brother (little being a relative term, he was in eighth grade, but I was at least two years older than him) my eyes widened slightly and for a second Hunter caught my eye.  I saw him exactly once a day when he was walking back to the middle school wing after his tenth grade math class.  I was in pre-algebra.  I had a sneaking suspicion that their whole family was blow your mind genius.  It was a theory at Cross that they spent their free time studying medical books for fun, and it was only half way a joke.  Anyhow, about a fraction of a second later I whipped my head back around and felt my cheeks turn that embarrassing Christmas red that everyone avoids like the plague.  In a moment of either pity or great luck Marie started playing a song I knew the words to, so I started singing to drown out the embarrassment that I doubted Adam even noticed and to kill the thoughts itching at the back of my mind driving me crazy.  I wasn’t allowed to do this, I wasn’t allowed to feel weird about him having a girlfriend he’s not mine, I’m lucky that we’re even friends.  So knock it off.  Once I hear the doors shut I grab my note book and proceed to write the sorriest excuse for a poem I have ever dared to put to paper.  A bite after we walked to the auditorium, lights still on and completely empty.  I sprinted onto the stage and spun around against the curtains.  I couldn’t help it, I loved theater.  The scuffed up stage, the musty smell of the hideous green curtains, itchy costumes, trembling hands that you hardly hide, an audience, acting, dancing, singing, inside theater jokes, after parties, everything. 

                “I need to warm up.”  I couldn’t keep the smirk off my face as I sang loudly from the stage, pacing and preforming a balancing act on the edge.  Warms ups gradually evolved to dance class and that evolved eventually to singing again and around and around for what seemed like a long time and also not long enough.

--- About twenty minutes later  

                I stepped out of the double doors to the choir room only shaking slightly, then went to find Marie who although had auditioned first, nearly two hours ago, had told her mom not to pick her up until after my audition.  I jog back to the auditorium where I left her, she turns in the middle of a song to see me standing quietly in the massive doorway and I can’t resist a smile when he cheeks begin to burn a bright Christmas red.  We walk around the halls singing loudly but very well whatever came to mind weather we both knew the lyrics until we ended back at the auditorium.  We sung loud, I sang as high as I dared and she sung as loud or high as she could while we both marveled at the amazing acoustics in the room.  The songs we sung weren’t necessarily meant for two people but we didn’t really care, we didn’t really care when the notes came out wrong, or when they lasted to long, or not long enough, or when they came out perfect.  Several times curious eyes peered in the doorway and we didn’t care about those either.  I ignored the fact that I knew the choir teacher and some other theater related authorities were up in the sound booth checking sound systems for the coming up choir concert, and the windows to said sound booth were opened.  It didn’t really seem to matter after a minute or two; I was too immersed in the music to really care about anything exempt what to sing when the lyrics to the last song ran out.  The notes were high and clear and I loved the way they sounded now that my voice was warmed up, they sounded like good, they sounded even better when paired with Maries’ loud but beautiful alto voice that danced around mine intertwined, loud but not forceful and even managing some moderately high notes.  It was something that I don’t think I’ll ever experience again; this though saddens me only slightly in light of the music.  It was like rain hitting the windows in a sudden storm, softly pattering then thundering against the glass in a wonderful rhythmic sort of way that you hardly notice until it stops.  

--- Next Wednesday

                My breathing gets shallow and quick and is just a step or two below what one might consider hyperventilation.  I tap my nose in a nervous habit I’d picked up and muttered something about staying calm.  Three exams and five hours later I was much less worried about testing anything and more worried about sleeping off the stress headache I’d acquired, I left the building hating exams a lot more then I had that morning. 

--- Christmas                                                                                                

                I stared at the boxes and bags under the tree from the top of the stairs, feeling strangely uninspired.  I had the strongest desire to email Adam and tell him this was my first Christmas here, but I didn’t.  Knowing that he probably wouldn’t check it for a few days anyway and I didn’t want to have to tell him about my feelings or something equally embarrassing.  I open boxes and try to smile and say thank you trying my best to sound normal.  The last thing I opened was my lettermen, which I admit was pretty cool.  I couldn’t help but think that I would look like Adam, the thought made me smile.  The smile made me cringe.  It seemed weird to think about things like that, if he ever found out about that he’d probably never speak to me again.

---The first day of Second Semester

                Pre al wouldn’t be nearly as bad if I hadn’t taken it last year, it kind of guaranteed a good grade as long as I at least half listened and I actually enjoyed doing the problems, but that doesn’t mean I want to be doing mathematics at the beginning of the day.  Math at seven thirty in the morning was the highlight of my day if that tells you anything about how bad it was.  Honestly my day was fine until just before the end of fifth period biology when I started worrying about lunch because I knew I didn’t have it with any of my friends this semester because I, like the good little white girl I occasionally remember to be, had compared schedules with them.  I supposedly had lunch with Heath, our very own official gay boy, but he hadn’t mentioned it when he glanced at my schedule so I suspected that they recalled wrong.  I hesitated in the threshold, scanning for someone I know, I see Adam right away and am slightly relieved but acknowledged instantly that I can’t sit with him, though I’m not sure why this resolution was reached.  I debate ditching, rationalizing that since lunch wasn’t really a class and I didn’t learn anything there was no reason I shouldn’t be allowed to skip it so long as I didn’t do drugs or have sex and I didn’t plan on partaking in either activity ever, but I didn’t ditch.  I’m a goody two shoes and besides, Adam had seen me come in and I didn’t want him to think poorly of me.  I sat at an empty table but it quickly filled up with older boys I didn’t know, I sat and read and tried not to think too much about the current situation because I could feel my throat closing up and I knew from experience that this meant tears where close by.  Rick was sitting at the table next to mine and since the tables where circular he was basically sitting right next to me which was why he was able to tap me on the shoulder without standing.  I glanced up and didn’t quite smile but didn’t grimace either, I was on the way to deciding that he was actually a pretty alright person.  I can’t quite recall what he said at first because it didn’t matter, it was some stupid joke that I grinned at out of need to be polite.  I hadn’t really expected him to say what he did next which might be why I reacted the way I did, but I think I probably would’ve acted the exact same way regardless.  “Hey No,” I glanced over even though I detested the nickname everyone seemed to think was so cleaver.  “Wanna make some babies?”  I don’t think he was serious seeing as he had a girlfriend, but I was already on edge.  I wish I’d slapped him; it would’ve been well worth any punishment I’d received, but I didn’t.  The thought didn’t even occur to me until a good four hours later once I was already safely at home tucked away in my room.  His friends seemed surprised that he’d said it but that didn’t mean they cared, they still laughed.  I don’t know what I said, something related to no.  I grabbed my book bag and asked our lunch supervisor if I could be excused to the restroom, managing to resist tears until the very end of the sentence.  I was almost glade that I had cried because it meant that no one came looking for me when I didn’t come back the rest of lunch, which was the majority seeing as I left within the first fifteen minutes of an hour long period.  I cried for probably half an hour before calming myself down, only to promptly break down again.  I hoped that Adam would’ve seen me and came looking because he’d been at a table very near the door of the cafetorium and had recognized the way my shoulders began to shake in crying, but I am no fool.  I knew he wasn’t coming, he hadn’t noticed and I didn’t blame him a bit.  It wasn’t fair to just expect a person to see everything, and to do something about it even supposing they do see.  I stare at myself in the mirror as I sit on the dingy floor of the bathroom and can’t help thinking over and over like a broken record.

I want to die.

I want to die.

I want to die.

I want to die.

                I didn’t fumble for my inhaler like I often did when I panicked, I sat and let the insanity immerse me for as long as I could until the bell rung.  I looked at myself in the mirror to make sure my eyes where no longer red, and then I slipped off to my next class with my head erect pretending, as always, that I hadn’t been defeated.

--- One day later. 

                I thought for a while about skipping lunch, but I ended up walking in anyway because Chelsea had said she was in my lunch period when she finally got back from her suspension.  I made no comment on the idiocy of doing drugs in the locker room before gym, there were no cameras if you took long enough they always sent someone in after you.  I couldn’t help thinking as I looked for her in seeming vain that Adam wouldn’t appreciate me being friends with that kind of person, but he didn’t get it.  He had options, I didn’t.  Kylie waved at me when she walked in, I didn’t know her very well but last semester she sat behind me in Biology and she seemed nice; yesterday she offered to sit with me.  I’d declined, not wanting to go back to the cafetorium.  “Are you eating in here today?”  She hesitated a moment, she was student assistant for an upper classmen math teacher.  

                “I can.”  I breathe a slight sigh of relief; I still hadn’t caught sight of Chelsea.  I glance over where Adam is sitting while I talk to Kylie he looks over at me, probably wondering why I’d been standing at the front of the room talking so loud for this long. 

                Finally we sit at a table with her friends, Aaron (who I will shamefully admit I at first thought was gay before he mentioned a girlfriend that apparently, nearly regrettably, the first “serious” relationship) is possibly my favorite of her friends, he’s adorable and funny and thinks I have “spunk”, it doesn’t hurt that I think he’s cute either. Throughout the course of lunch, although I have fun and enjoy these new peoples company, I find myself periodically glancing back at Adam. 

Three and a half weeks later:

                Again.  I’m beginning to wonder why I always get irrational crushes on people in relationships and yet refuse to be a home wrecker.  Honestly I have more of a problem with get irrational crushes, I just suppose it would be a lot easier to be stuck in that situation if I were willing to be that one slut that ruins everyone’s relationship.  It would’ve been fine if he was in a relationship, like who cares?  When I met him he was in a relationship, apparently a very committed one.  But I guess he wasn’t quite as committed as he thought because the day after he said that he was in his “first serious relationship” he told everyone he broke up with her. 

                At first I didn’t really think about it, because why the hell should I care?  He had nice eyes and perpetually mussed hair, but I didn’t really think about it except the occasional passing thought of “aw look at that pretty, socially awkward, boy.”  But I never actually, or at least not until recently, thought about him in a way that might suggest I was interested in more than a window shopping sense.  Of course this isn’t what you think, I am, under most foreseeable circumstances an asexual.  Only having discovered this the first couple of months of school, I wasn’t sure about all of it.  I just knew that I wasn’t sexually attracted to anyone or anything, but I did lust after practically all of the guys I knew, and the ones I didn’t.  After I decided that I did like him I started subconsciously over analyzing him breaking up with his girlfriend the day after we met.  I ran through the story line in my head at a near constant rate.

                “Aaron glanced across the table at the new face; he smiles when she looks up and tries to act as though he were looking over her shoulder but knew all along that it wouldn’t work.  He looks away and engages in conversation.  She laughs; it was a pleasant sound, like the wind rustling through the trees on a lukewarm spring afternoon; it was perfect.  Suddenly he knew he couldn’t keep going out with his current girlfriend.” 

                Maybe I could’ve kept that illusion alive if I didn’t make a habit of listening to everything he said at lunch, because maybe if I didn’t listen to him so faithfully I wouldn’t have heard him say something about meeting up with a girl after school, and if I hadn’t noticed how excited he seemed about it.  I meekly volunteered a “maybe they’re just friends.”  However I’m a dreamer, not an idiot.  I guess could’ve taken longer for me to realize.  It could’ve been Patrick all over again; I guess I’m glad it wasn’t.  But still, I think I should be allowed to mourn at least a little bit, the fact that my fantasy couldn’t be real.  Although I can’t say I’m altogether surprised that I wasn’t right, I’m wrong a statistically unlikely amount of time, and eventually I would’ve had to tell him I’m asexual (or how I’m generally reduced to saying, “I don’t do the sex thing”) and that more than likely would be enough to warrant a break up.  Since I’ve never actually had to do that, I wasn’t entirely sure, but from several other accounts found on the internet it, unlike my wrong to right ratio, seemed pretty statistically likely.  Mostly because for some reason the world has become morbidly sexualized, which as you may have guessed, as an asexual, it is quite incontinent for me.  But it doesn’t really matter, because I wasn’t right.  He liked a girl, and it wasn’t me.  Surprise, surprise. 

                I glanced over Aarons shoulder to see Adam, the two marvelous A’s in my life at the moment.  I wondered briefly if depression even counted if what caused it was unfixable, if your life as an upper middle class white person was perfect, or very near perfect.  Probably not, and just like that I had justified once again, why I was working hard to convince Adam that I was okay again.  That I’d had a bad day and didn’t know what I was saying.  

---Wednesday.

                I slipped into the lunch line with Kylie and Marcus eating a small bag of crackers from my packed lunch halfheartedly contemplating whether or not I’d eventually get in trouble for going through the lunch line with Kylie everyday and never buying anything.  “Why would anyone want to even see 60 shades of black anyway?  It’s basically straight porn.”  I complain mildly, nibbling on the side of a Ritz, she glanced back at me away from the spit shields, and laughed

                “Its light porn and it has a great story line.”  I grimace at the thought,

                “Yeah, sex, one fight, and more sex.” I leaned against the wall and suddenly notice Adam standing behind me with a modernly shocked look on his face and slightly raised eyebrows, he tries playing it off with a smile and I let it pass.

                “Have you seen it?”  His tone implied he didn’t think I should’ve, and I can’t help loving it.  Brotherly concern, shock, disapproval.  Even if he was willing to venture some things, (including say I could have consensual sex when I turned sixteen, which I’m near sure he said because he knew it would make me incredibly uncomfortable).  I laugh,

                “Are you kidding?  I wouldn’t see it if my life depended on it.”  Quietly I noted the low key relief in his expression. 

--- Friday.

                I slipped down the halls, still fully lit, will I waited for my father to come and pick me up when I walked passed Adam and two of his friends. 

“I don’t hate your hair, I think it looks fine.”  She laughed, she was right.  It was better short, and the “beard” (if you could even call it that) he’d been trying to sport lately that made him remind me distinctly of a baby goat.  The one of his friends in particular that I paid special attention too, was the one who was speaking at present.  Her name was Lindsay and I knew, through nothing other than careful observation, that he liked her.  He’d hinted once in a conversation we’d had that he had a crush on someone, and I instantly, though secretly, made it my sworn duty to find out who it was.  I immediately assumed it was one of his friends, one in particular that I noted he said hello to whenever she was near us during Cross Country practice (though that was over now).  He hung around her and honestly he just seemed, not to sound tragically and unforgivably cliché, different around her.  I’d assumed that they were dating, but realized a week or two later that she was in fact, dating his other friend.  I shrunk further into myself as I passed, a perhaps bad habit that I developed although I couldn’t quite figure out why.  Just before I rounded the corner that lead to the middle school wing I heard him say it, not loudly exactly but in the silent halls his voice seemed amplified, though I’m sure I would’ve heard him in alternate circumstances. 

                “I thought we already established that I had no chance with you.”  I turned the corner and I thought perhaps I heard him laugh but I couldn’t be sure because I was to absorbed in my own thoughts, only briefly grazing over the fact that I was right that he liked her.  It took me two minutes perhaps to walk through the entirety of the middle school wing and find my way back to the turn right before the main office.  There they were, Lindsay and her boyfriend.  She pulled him aside and was talking to him intently and at first all I registered was their presents.  Even wondering if Adam was somewhere off to the side that I was at a bad angel to see.  But then I heard what she was saying.

                “I just put something together,” she looked at him; he was taller than her but not by quite enough for her to have to tilt her head up to look him in the eye.  They may not even have noticed me as I slipped past, “Remember?  He said ‘I thought we’d already established I don’t have a chance with you,’ and that he wondered if I’d break up with you for him.  I just realized…” and I suddenly realized what I had unwittingly stumbled into the middle of.  My heart rate sky rocketed; I didn’t want to be here.  I didn’t want to hear her realization.  I restrained myself from sprinting the rest of the way out of ear shot.   I was there for the moment of realization and explanation, and I was suddenly furious as I slipped through the empty hall that connected to where Lindsay and her boyfriend were likely dissecting everything my poor Adam had said to her.  I was angry that he’d let something so obvious slip, I knew he was more clever than that, knew that he could have avoided that, easily.  So why had he said it?  Because he was being careless.  But for some reason I couldn’t bring myself to believe that.  I wondered if he wanted her to know, if he’d done that on purpose.  He had to know she’d figure it out, saying something that obvious.  My fury was sort lived as it suddenly occurred to me that Lindsay probably wasn’t planning to just ignore the situation.  She was probably going to talk to him about it.  He would be hurt, my Adam would be hurt.  The very idea almost shattered me.  I imagined him feeling like I did the one and only time I had ever admitted to liking someone only to be turned down, only after being avoided for almost four months and turned down because I wasn’t good enough.  Because who knows why really, he never told me.  I imagined him nodding, understanding, listening, words coming out of his mouth that were logical and sarcastic as he laughs the situation off and then turning and walking away.  Frowning slightly more than usual because he hasn’t learned to fight off visual evidence of the pain quite yet.  I felt bad, I almost wished that he already knew this would happen, that he’d anticipated this and been careful choosing his words.  Now look at the mess he’d created, I sighed audibly, disappointed and worried.  I tried to convince myself he would be fine, but I felt sure that he wouldn’t be.

---Two weeks later on a Monday

                Adam seemed alright, but didn’t he always?  It was nearly impossible to tell when he wasn’t because of the neutral expression perpetually on his face.  Aaron had asked for my phone number several days before and after talking almost all day on Friday and Saturday he told me he like me.  We still haven’t established what we are exactly but I’m not about to ask.  We’re still talking and he’s given me so much of himself that it freaks me out a little, it’s not as though I don’t appreciate it.  I’ve just never felt so responsible for someone other than myself, and this wouldn’t matter much except some things that he’s said suggested he had a slight case of depression.  I could hardly handle myself, there was no way I could handle anyone else.  Still I decided to wait it out and see if we could help each other, selfish I know but his green eyes were naive and he told me I was pretty.  I was too selfish to let go of him for someone who was okay inside.  This was one of the many personality issues I possessed.  I valued myself, and what would make me happy, and what would help me, over practically everyone else. 

                At two forty after school there was a meeting for outdoor track which I attended and ended up seated just across from Adam, about five minutes into the meeting the fire alarm started blaring, we filed outside for all of two seconds before going back in laughing too loudly at things that weren’t all that funny.  Stan walked directly behind me inside while Adam held the door, as a result of this we were the last three people in.  I have no idea what it was that was on Stanley’s hand, which is why it freaked me out when he rubbed his warm wet hand across my cheek saying,

                “Sucks when it gets on your face doesn’t it.”  I flinched back, almost punching him before decided that Adam probably wouldn’t want me too and after all he was right there.  I wiped my face with the sleeve of my jacket, I see Adam glance over at me and he looks at Stanley and scolded him in a not quite patronizing but definitely in charge sort of way.  This was why I trusted Adam more than the others, he looked out for me when he knew too.  He was good.