Chapter 7 : Suspended Hearts.
748 Words
“They suspended him from school, but they didn’t suspend him from my heart.”
— Wendy
The school felt quieter without him.
Not peaceful.
Not calm.
Just… wrong.
Like a song missing its chorus.
Two days into Wayne’s suspension, and I had already memorized the shape of his absence. My eyes drifted to his seat before I could stop them — empty, silent, accusing. No calm energy. No soft tapping of a pen. No presence that somehow made chaos feel manageable.
His sketchbook was still inside the desk.
Black cover. Slightly worn edges. A faint pencil mark of my name scribbled in the corner like a secret he never meant to erase.
I shouldn’t have opened it.
But I did.
The first page held a drawing of the school courtyard — sunlight slanting through trees, students frozen mid-laughter.
The second page was a messy doodle of Taylor, mouth wide open, eyes exaggerated, clearly caught mid-gossip.
I smiled despite myself.
Then I turned the page.
It was me.
Different from the first portrait he drew. This one wasn’t smiling. This one looked tired — like someone carrying weight she didn’t know how to set down. My shoulders were slightly slumped. My eyes distant.
And beneath it, in faint pencil lines, he’d written:
“Even when she hides her pain, it still glows.”
My chest tightened painfully.
I closed the book quickly, pressing it against my chest like I’d been caught stealing something sacred.
At break, Taylor dropped beside me, plopping her snacks onto the desk with theatrical flair.
“So,” she said, biting into a biscuit, “lover boy is officially gone for forty-eight hours. How are we feeling?”
I frowned. “This isn’t funny.”
She studied my face for a moment, then softened. “Yeah. I know. He didn’t deserve that suspension.”
“No, he didn’t,” I whispered. “He was just trying to protect me.”
She leaned closer. “And he’d probably do it again.”
I froze.
Taylor sighed. “Wendy… Wayne likes you so loudly that even silence can hear it.”
Her words followed me through every class, every hallway, every glance at his empty seat.
After school, I walked home slowly beneath the late afternoon sun. The sky burned orange and gold, like a painting that didn’t know how to end. I kicked small stones along the road, lost in thought.
Halfway down my street, I stopped.
He was there.
Wayne.
Leaning against the a tall tree by the roadside, uniform half-worn, backpack slung over one shoulder. A black wristband circled his arm. That familiar calm smile curved his lips — soft, dangerous, reassuring.
My heart jumped.
“You’re supposed to be suspended,” I said.
He shrugged. “Not from seeing you.”
“You’ll get into more trouble.”
“Then at least it’ll be worth it.”
I tried to sound annoyed, but the warmth creeping up my cheeks betrayed me.
He stepped closer — not too close, just close enough. I could smell him. Soap. Rain. Something comforting.
“You shouldn’t have fought Calvin,” I said quietly.
He looked away. “I didn’t fight him for me.”
I waited.
“I fought him because of how he looked at you,” Wayne continued. “Like you were still his to hurt.”
My heart stuttered.
“I don’t like seeing you flinch when he talks to you,” he added softly. “You deserve peace, Wendy. Not chaos disguised as love.”
My throat tightened. “Why do you care so much?”
He chuckled — low, almost shy. “Because the first time I saw you, you were sitting by the window reading that book you always hide in your bag. You looked like you belonged to a different world. I wanted to know that world.”
He met my eyes. “Now I think I’ve found it.”
Something inside me cracked.
“You make it hard to stay careful,” I whispered.
He smiled — slow, gentle, patient. The kind of smile that doesn’t demand, only waits.
“Then stop being careful,” he said.
For a moment, the world held its breath.
Just two teenagers.
A big beautiful tree.
A sunset too beautiful to trust and so yellowingly charming.
But I knew what followed moments like this.
Storms.
And this time… I wasn’t sure I’d survive another one, but I hoped I could survive it.
- Writer
