[ OT ] Sunday Free Write : Leave A Story , Leave A Comment - Half Dozen Edition

This Seat is Taken 
 
 She climbed into my ears, filling my mind. Slowly, then all at once. I could feel each beautifully constructed note swirling around my head. The twirls and loops she did made my heart pound with excitement. The slow waltzes and perfect legatos calmed me down. It was almost as if she was right in front of me. Her shiny, straight black body, her speech of silver accents, her flexible range. It reminded me of a blissful memory, one that I would never forget. 
 
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 I stepped into the bus, unsure. It was noisy and I didn ’ t like noisy places. Almost every seat was either filled or ‘ taken ’. The latter was probably not true, I noted, after feeling the judging stares on my back as I passed through the middle of the big yellow beast. 
 
 “ Hey, you can sit here! ” I heard a voice call out from my right. I turned, taking my seat nervously next to the red-headed boy. 
 
 “ H-hi! I..I…Thank y-you. ” I stuttered out, and I could feel the blood rushing to my face immediately. Great. I had already embarrassed myself on the first day. 
 
 “ Hey, I ’ m Jack. Nice to meet you, buddy. ” Jack chuckled, eyes lighting up in the most spectacular way. 
 
 Fireworks, that ’ s what his eyes reminded me of. Kind, bright, happy. He didn ’ t make fun of me for the way I spoke, the way I dressed or the way I looked. The other kids did. They teased me and shoved me into the lockers. But Jack didn ’ t. He was my best friend, and I was happy. 
 
 “ H-hey Jack, I…I like y-y-your sneakers. “ I told him, pointing towards his branded shoes, wanting desperately to make conversation with the boy that saved me. 
 
 “ Thanks! My dad gave them to me after my first clarinet recital. If you want them, it would have to be over my dead body. ” 
 
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 I glanced up, towards my wall. It was blank, except for a single photograph. The photograph was taken horribly. It was out of focus, tilted and too bright. That was what made it particularly endearing. It was just the two of us in it. Jack had his hand around my shoulder and I had mine in his hair, giving him funny bunny-ears. We looked so happy. 
 
 `` Hey Jack, do you want to see my drawing of Ms Grant? It looks really funny.'' I asked Jack, expecting an immediate and enthusiastic response. I mean, who would n't want to see that? Jack definitely would. That's what best friends do. 
 
 `` Uh... sure?'' Jack seemed hesitant. He was thinking of that guy Will, we met in school the other day, was n't he? He was thinking of REPLACING me, I knew it. I glared at him and folded my arms. 
 
 `` W-will was n't the one that lent you his homework the other day. Will was n't the o-o-one who sacrificed himself and told M-ms Grant that he was the one with the cheat sheet, not you. I am your only best friend, Jack. Do n't you ever forget that.'' I was n't going to allow some schmuck to steal MY best friend away from me. 
 
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 Taking out a decorated shoe box from my drawer, I opened it and revealed a white sneaker. I couldn ’ t find the other one; I think he lost it in the fight. The sneaker was completely white, well except for the splatter I left on them. The color of the splatter was dark brown, like mud. My mother always wondered why I kept the soiled white sneaker in my drawer. But she didn ’ t say anything, of course, she was too scared. She said I was an angry child, an obsessive child, when really the thick headed idiot mistook my sensitivity for obsessiveness. Sighing, I ran my hand across the shoelaces, reminiscing in the past. The past before Jack changed, changed into a monster. 
 
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 “ H-hi Jack! I… I brought you one of my fractal dr-drawings, I h-h-hope… you like t-them. ” I told him, positioning my body to sit in my usual seat away from the window. Jack only gave me a heartless cold look. 
 
 “ Jack? ” I pleaded with my words, and with my eyes. I tapped his shoulder, but he didn ’ t budge. He continued staring out of the window, as if he didn ’ t notice me standing there apologizing for things I had not done wrong. Then he said something that made my entire world crumble. 
 
 Why did he do that to me? He was my idol, my hero even. And to think that he could betray me like that? What makes it worse is the fact that I don ’ t know what changed between us. I don ’ t know why he pushed me away. All that I know is that he was cooler than me; he was always cooler than me. He was the one getting all the friends, all the girls. I was the outcast, the one no one knew why he still hung out with. He thought I was some sort of charity case for him? Didn ’ t he? He thought I was a loser. He thought I was a lost cause. I dare say he only hung out with me to tell his friends how lame I am. He knew exactly what he did to me. He had to pay. He was a monster, the lowest of the low, a scum! He didn ’ t deserve me. He didn ’ t deserve me. 
 
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 I snapped out of my daze. I concentrated on the graceful figure spinning and bouncing in front of me. I allowed her to release me from my torment, and I felt like I could finally breathe again. I ’ m glad I recorded his last clarinet recital. Now all I have to do to remember him is to play the tape. It would have been hard to remember him any other way. It would have been hard to remember any other way because the only thing I remember before I killed him were the words that pushed me to do it. 
 
 “ This seat is taken. ” 
 
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 Very rough at the moment and I need a little bit of help. Any feedback would be appreciated. Thank you. 
 
 

