She walks to her locker,
Head tilted downwards,
Looking at her feet.
She hides her emotions in that pile of books she carries,
And there's a smile buried deep beneath her baggy sweater.
Brown eyes water at their own reflection,
And black hair hurries to hide her face.
She is ashamed.
He can see her from across the hall,
Fifteen lockers away,
Ready to shut his locker and leave.
But he stops.
He watches his friend cry her heart in to her hands.
And she barely notices him.
Her self esteem rolls down her cheeks until they fall to the floor,
With no intention of getting back up.
She wipes what is left of her confidence on her sleeve,
Glances to her left,
And her eyes lock with his.
She freezes,
He inhales.
Her face turns a bright shade of embarassment,
While he swallows his shame.
Living statues pose dumbfoundedly in a hallway.
She makes the first move,
Putting her heart in her locker,
And shutting her locker door.
She turns to walk away,
Staring disparingly at a window,
Pitying her unpleasant twin cased within glass walls.
She is eager to go to her empty home,
Lay with death by a warm fire because that's all she has left.
"I've always thought you were pretty."
He says,
Coming to the rescue.
She stops in her tracks,
Closes her eyes.
"I've always cared."
She fumbles around with her car keys,
Turns to look at him and smiles.
That's all she needed to hear.
He just saved her.