yet, I should start doing a better job in pretending like I was okay. You know, fake it until you make it. Not tonight though.
"May I be excused now?" I pushed myself out of my seat, not waiting for their permission.
They didn't stop me, and I was grateful for it. I raced upstairs and locked myself in my room.
I sank on the floor next to my bed, curling myself up into a little ball, wishing I could get smaller and just disappear.
At times like this, talking to Adam would have made me feel better. I could just easily sneak out of my window and run to the woods to meet him. I'd already done that so many times I was surprised I hadn't been caught even once. But I couldn’t talk to Adam, not when he was taking Eric’s side.
I couldn't understand why his parents had decided to let Eric return to Highcrest. It obviously had something to do with the accident. Perhaps losing one son made them want to reconnect with the other, though I doubted they would succeed if that were the case. I may have not spent a lot of time with Eric, but I knew enough to see that his being here would only make things worse.
Eric was selfish and arrogant. He was everything Adam was not, and I couldn't blame his parents if they wished he was the one who died instead. I know I felt that way.
Chapter Eight
Life went on at Highcrest. Teachers still gave impossible pop quizzes. Jocks still bullied math geeks and anyone who didn't belong in the upper crust. Amanda Crover and her minions were still the envy of wannabes, making being blonde and having skinny long legs the ultimate standard of beauty, and I continued to see Adam after school.
Over time, my life fell into a routine. I would wake up in the morning and go to school, meet Adam in the afternoon, tell him how my day went, go home to have dinner with my parents, do some homework, and sleep. It was a cycle I was glad to continue, if only I could be reassured that it would stay that way.
There was the constant fear of waking up one day to find the woods empty. I never told Adam this, though I knew that he felt the same whenever I met him. His face would light up, but from relief than being glad of my presence. I couldn't deny that I felt the same.
I learned to become contented with what my life had become, although there were some relapses. Like when Sara and I would talk about silly stuff over lunch only to be reminded of something Adam had once said, or that one time he made a bad joke but we still ended up laughing our heads off. And of course, there was the person who never failed to remind me that Adam was dead. And that someone entered the room just as Mr. Blake was about to call out his name for the roll call.
"Eric Wharton, just in time yet again!"
Eric walked down to his seat with his hands inside his pockets, completely ignoring Mr. Blake. He was wearing yet another black V−neck shirt over black jeans. I had never seen him wear anything else, not that I cared. I actually thought that it suited him, reflecting his dark attitude.
People had learned to get used to his presence. He no longer made someone freeze in shock as he walked down the hall. No longer making heads turn as he spoke, which rarely happened ever since the cafeteria incident. In short, people had forgotten about Adam. And they hated being around Eric. Well, with the exception of Amanda of course.
"You always know how to make a grand entrance," she whispered, just loud enough for me to hear. And though I couldn't see her face, I knew she was ogling at him with her big blue eyes, maybe even giving him her signature wink and pout combo.
Eric didn't respond.
"How do you do that?" Amanda urged, clearly not one to give up easily.
"What?" Eric said with a hint of irritation in his voice. I couldn't blame him for that.
"You know, coming in just before your name is called out."
"May I ask you a question as well?" Eric asked in a similar soft tone.
"Sure."
"How do you do that?"
"What?"
"You know,"
"May I be excused now?" I pushed myself out of my seat, not waiting for their permission.
They didn't stop me, and I was grateful for it. I raced upstairs and locked myself in my room.
I sank on the floor next to my bed, curling myself up into a little ball, wishing I could get smaller and just disappear.
At times like this, talking to Adam would have made me feel better. I could just easily sneak out of my window and run to the woods to meet him. I'd already done that so many times I was surprised I hadn't been caught even once. But I couldn’t talk to Adam, not when he was taking Eric’s side.
I couldn't understand why his parents had decided to let Eric return to Highcrest. It obviously had something to do with the accident. Perhaps losing one son made them want to reconnect with the other, though I doubted they would succeed if that were the case. I may have not spent a lot of time with Eric, but I knew enough to see that his being here would only make things worse.
Eric was selfish and arrogant. He was everything Adam was not, and I couldn't blame his parents if they wished he was the one who died instead. I know I felt that way.
Chapter Eight
Life went on at Highcrest. Teachers still gave impossible pop quizzes. Jocks still bullied math geeks and anyone who didn't belong in the upper crust. Amanda Crover and her minions were still the envy of wannabes, making being blonde and having skinny long legs the ultimate standard of beauty, and I continued to see Adam after school.
Over time, my life fell into a routine. I would wake up in the morning and go to school, meet Adam in the afternoon, tell him how my day went, go home to have dinner with my parents, do some homework, and sleep. It was a cycle I was glad to continue, if only I could be reassured that it would stay that way.
There was the constant fear of waking up one day to find the woods empty. I never told Adam this, though I knew that he felt the same whenever I met him. His face would light up, but from relief than being glad of my presence. I couldn't deny that I felt the same.
I learned to become contented with what my life had become, although there were some relapses. Like when Sara and I would talk about silly stuff over lunch only to be reminded of something Adam had once said, or that one time he made a bad joke but we still ended up laughing our heads off. And of course, there was the person who never failed to remind me that Adam was dead. And that someone entered the room just as Mr. Blake was about to call out his name for the roll call.
"Eric Wharton, just in time yet again!"
Eric walked down to his seat with his hands inside his pockets, completely ignoring Mr. Blake. He was wearing yet another black V−neck shirt over black jeans. I had never seen him wear anything else, not that I cared. I actually thought that it suited him, reflecting his dark attitude.
People had learned to get used to his presence. He no longer made someone freeze in shock as he walked down the hall. No longer making heads turn as he spoke, which rarely happened ever since the cafeteria incident. In short, people had forgotten about Adam. And they hated being around Eric. Well, with the exception of Amanda of course.
"You always know how to make a grand entrance," she whispered, just loud enough for me to hear. And though I couldn't see her face, I knew she was ogling at him with her big blue eyes, maybe even giving him her signature wink and pout combo.
Eric didn't respond.
"How do you do that?" Amanda urged, clearly not one to give up easily.
"What?" Eric said with a hint of irritation in his voice. I couldn't blame him for that.
"You know, coming in just before your name is called out."
"May I ask you a question as well?" Eric asked in a similar soft tone.
"Sure."
"How do you do that?"
"What?"
"You know,"
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