Love Lengths

Maggie Life is a perpetual yesterday.   I wake up, get dressed to hide myself and go to school, grabbing a quick breakfast bar from the drawer under my bed and leave the house before my parents are even awake yet. I wander with headphones in for the four mile walk to school and sit in wait on the grass pitch opposite the reception until one of the office administrators opens the front doors for teachers; a good hour before any other students arrive. Today was no different; my standard dark hoodie and jeans, pulled my hair back into a messy ponytail and picked up the books I would need for today, along with my breakfast. I make sure to be quiet, tiptoeing across the carpeted floor around the spots on the floor that I know are weak and noisy spots. I know if I wake them up I’ll be in trouble and I just cannot deal with that right now; they work so hard all day and stay up all night, I can’t risk waking them a minute before their alarms; they’ve timed it perfectly to get the right amount of sleep, anything less, even a minute, and there’s hell to pay. It’ll be me that pays it. I lose myself in my music, after switching it to shuffle, and don’t even notice the guy behind me until him and, what I can only assume is his girlfriend, shove past me on their way to the alley ahead of me, giggling like school children. It’s not until he throws his arm up in apology, without looking at me, that I realise it’s Ashton Turner, the most popular guy in our year, popular with everyone, no wonder he didn’t recognise me. There is now no doubt in my mind that that poor girl is not his girlfriend, merely the latest girl he can get his claws into. Also explains why they’re out so early; they need the alleyway to have a quick rough and tumble before school and neither would likely want to take what they’re about to do home to their parents. I shake the brief encounter off and power on ahead, afraid that if he sees me my day will automatically become worse, I can’t deal with him right now; it’s worse that he genuinely doesn’t seem to care about what happened that night, but I’ve had to move on from it now, he was the least of my problems on a daily basis. The rest of the journey is uneventful, as usual, and I get to school at 7am and sit, cross legged, on the heavy wooden bench on the outer edge of the grass pitch, getting comfortable enough to sit and rest my eyes for the next hour or so before school is open. * * * The day passed as quickly as it normally did; first two classes were interesting, third to fifth were not and sixth was a free period so I could head home early. Only I never go straight home from school. Today I took the bus to just outside of town and walked through the wood that spanned half of our peninsula; no-one ever came down here in the Autumn, that’s why I liked it so much, I could spend my afternoon and evening in my happy place, away from people and singing my heart out, breathing in the beautiful fresh air and being alone with my thoughts. I thought back on the day. It was lunch that had not been normal; he’d seen me at lunch. For the first time in the two years since it had happened, he saw me at our school. We’d both attended the same high school since we were 11 years old, and he had never noticed me until now, at almost 18. I bet he didn’t even remember me. That made me sad. So much sadder because it makes me wonder how many more girls he’d done that to and just forgotten about them. My heart yearned for those girls. Ashton Turner. He walked past me with his lunch tray; his pot of fruit wobbled off the tray and hit my shoulder as I was sat, alone, at my table. “Sorry babe,” he’d said, “shame it wasn’t open or you’d be wet right now.” He winked at me and walked off with his friends, laughing at himself and his oh-so-hilarious comment. I ran to the toilet, leaving my lunch behind, and threw up in the closest stall I could find before sneaking off to class and taking my seat at the back of the room, praying that the end of the day came quickly.