“Maybe I should take you to school.” Emerson said, resting a hand on my shoulder.
I slapped his hand away and threw him the fiercest glare I could muster.
“Let go of me!” I yelled, running out the door. Secretly I wished one of them – hopefully Eric – would run after me, but no one stopped me. The wind blew cold on my damped face and though I wiped the tears away, they kept flowing endlessly.
Obviously the school was not my destination, not with the way I look and the equally miserable mess my mind is in. Hence, I took the route home. All I could wish was for my mother to not be there. And, luckily, she wasn’t. I slammed the door behind me and ran upstairs, throwing myself onto my bed, crying.
This is all my fault, I shouldn’t have called Emerson. Emerson never considered that we were
