Lonely Love

Are you really alone in the world? Cat thinks so, until she meets Jacob. Then it's all down hill from there.

     I sat in the same seat, like always, last row in the back on the far right side of the room. Johnny Howbecker sat in front of me normally, but he never looked back to strike a conversation. No one did. I can just assume they are afraid of me, how I dress, or are afraid of their popularity status dropping if they even muttered a small, “Hi, Cat,” when they pass me in the halls or sit beside me in classes. I was used to it, though, so I don’t take offence. My long, wavy black hair tends to fall in my face, covering my eyes, causing me to be unable to see, but what of that? It’s not like people look me in the eyes too often. Teachers avoid eye contact too; they are the ones afraid. The looks people give me when they think I can’t see them, it’s monstrous. The whispers in the hallways are no better. Eventually, people like me learn to ignore them, block out all dialogue and move on. It’s not like I have anything better to do.

     There isn’t anyone like me at my school, though. I guess that’s why I go there. I wear black. I cover my face. I stay in my preferred solitude most of the day. I go to school. Come home. No short conversations with my “friends” or teachers. They stopped asking me what is wrong a while ago. After I kept saying, “Nothing,” I was left alone. People still shoot me awkward glares and creeped out looks. My parents just about freaked when they realized the “phase” im going through won’t fade as fast as they were hoping. And it won’t, because this is me. If they can’t accept that, then I am completely and utterly are ashamed of them. I’m not bad, I’m not evil, and I don’t perform witchcraft.

     Class had started. Mr. Winslow was talking to us about who-knows-what. I get good grades. I keep up in class. I just don’t pay attention when my teachers go on and on and on about a book or grammar or some math lesson that we had learned the previous week. My head was pointed downwards at my desk. The blue ink pen I held in my left hand guided me as I drew a dying tree with leaves gliding down to the ground. 

     The door opened. The room became silent. From that moment on, I wish I hadn’t looked up. There he was. I saw him talking to Mr. Winslow. My head was still in the downward position, but my eyes darted to him back to the teacher continuously. He was directed by Mr. Winslow’s index finger pointing to me, or the empty seat in front of me, perhaps. I quickly lost my breath. My eyes got real wide; I could feel it. I studied him closely. The way the light glimmered on his chic black hair that swooped in front of his right eye. The visible eye was a bright green with a rim of blue. He walked with his arms swaying at the sides of his denim ripped jeans and his feet made this noise that corresponded with my heartbeat with every step he took.

     Sunrays shined in my eyes, causing me to scowl and look away, cursing under my breath. The guy looked at me with a puzzled face as he approached me and gave me a little nod, while saying, “What could I have possibly done this soon to make you dislike me?”

     I chuckled and said, “Yeah . . .no . . .sorry, just the, you know, stupid sun.”

He nodded and took the seat in front of me. “I miss the blinds in classrooms.”

     Laughing at that, he smiled at me and said, “Hey, I’m Jacob.”

     “Cat.”

“Whoa, really? That’s such a co-“

“No,” I said a little harshly. “Sorry, it’s a nickname. My middle name is Catherine, so I just go by Cat. My first name disgusts me.”

“What is it?”

“Emma.”

“Ew,” He said, “that is repulsive. So repulsive for such a pretty girl.”

I glared at him with a hidden smile on his face and I could tell he took the hint. “Hey, I’m just playing. That’s a really pretty name, suits you.”

“Do not call me that. Like, ever.”

Jacob chuckled and said, “Why?”

I rolled my eyes and added, “Because, Jacob what’s-your-face, it’s disgusting, like I said before. Guess who wasn’t listening?”

He opened his mouth, about to respond, when Mr. Winslow appeared next to us and said, “Mr. Manson? Would you and Ms. Hulliberry like to continue this in the principle’s office?”

“No, sir.” I quickly answered. With that, Jacob turned around and so did my whole world. 

Author's Note

Thoughts...comments...

Reviews

[nevershoutnever.]

@StrawberryHart36- I am not particularly fond of the name 'Emma,' but that's not really my name...why do you keep saying that?

[SpeakxNow]

Continue!!!!! P.S. do you really hate your name?