Chapter 2

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Bradley

What the fuck was that?

When I moved back here I was excited to see Hannah. To mess with Hannah. To see her face scrunch in anger when I bested her.

What I got just now was not that. If I didn't know better, I'd think that wasn't Hannah Jacobs. She was completely different from three years ago. She was timid and small. It was weird seeing her like that. I didn't like it.

I went off to my first class, English with Mrs. Morris. I got there just before the class started and there was only one seat left.

I smirked.

The seat was next to Hannah.

I sauntered over to the desk and plopped down, looking over at Hannah. She seemed completely unbothered by my presence. In fact, I'm not sure she even noticed me. Her eyes were trained on her desk like they were glued there and she didn't glance over at me once.

"Hello class," Mrs. Morris began. I turned my attention away from Hannah and to the teacher. She took role and then began to pass out the class syllabus.

I read it over myself while Mrs. Morris explained it to the class.

Half of our grade would be a partner project! I fucking hated those.

But then a thought popped into my mind and I was suddenly ok with the idea of working with a partner. A specific partner. The brunette sitting next to me.

Hannah may be different now, but I'm not accepting that. I don't know what happened, but I know that the spunky girl from middle school is still in there. I just have to coax her out.

I didn't know why I was so focused on Hannah. I told myself when I came back that I'd leave her be and focus on my senior year, but now that I'm back, I can't seem to follow through.

__________________________________

Hannah

I was sitting in Mrs. Morris's class. I had picked a seat in the back so no one would sit next to me and I thought it had worked until Bradley Brooks walked in.

He was everywhere!

I kept my eyes on my desk, but I could feel him approach. And I could feel his eyes on me.

My heart was racing, but I tried to keep my focus on Mrs. Morris who was taking attendance up front.

I felt those eyes on me all through the class and I couldn't have been more relieved when the bell rang signaling the end of class.

I swiped up my bag and rushed out of class. I heard someone call my name, but I ignored them and rushed off to my next class.

I was relieved that it was art. Ms. Topaz was my favorite teacher in the school and I loved her class. I wasn't the best artist in the world, but I enjoyed the class anyways and I took it every year.

The art room had become my little safe haven in this hell hole; the one place I actually enjoyed.

"Welcome, welcome," Ms. Topaz said to the class. She was wearing a colorful jumpsuit with a white t-shirt and her hair was tied up with a bandanna. She was gorgeous. I was honestly surprised she was still single.

"For your first assignment of the year you will be making self portraits. You have full creative freedom, do what you wish with that."

Other kids got up and started getting supplies to get started on their assignments, but not me. We could do whatever we wanted, but I had no clue what to do.

I opened my sketchbook and started to draw, but I quickly tore the page out and crumbled it up. I kept trying, but nothing looked right and by the end of the class I was surrounded by crumbled papers.

"No luck?"

I looked up and saw Ms. Topaz standing over me. I shook my head.

"What's the problem?"

"It just doesn't look right." I frowned down at my current sketch.

"I think it looks great," Ms. T said.

"No. It's too neat. Too perfect. I'm not neat or perfect."

Ms. Topaz hummed. "Here's my advice. Don't go classic. Be messy."

"What does that mean?" I asked. But the bell had rung and I didn't have time to get my answer.

Be messy.

It stayed with me through my next class and into lunch. I couldn't think of anything else.

Be messy.

Be messy.

Be messy.

"Penny for your thoughts?"

I jumped and turned to look up at the person behind me. I turned back without answering and Bradley took that as his invitation to sit down next to me on the bench out front.

"What is going on with you?" Bradley asked. "It's like you're a completely different person. What happened these past years?"

"Nothing happened. People just change."

Bradley shook his head. "Not like that. Not you."

I didn't know what to say. I couldn't tell him the truth obviously, but there wasn't much else to say. So I said nothing.

I could feel Bradley's eyes on me, like they were burning through my soul. It made me nervous. I felt like he could see all the dark parts of my life that I kept hidden.

"Why do you even care?" I asked softly.

"What?"

"Why do you care if I changed? We weren't even friends, but now you're suddenly concerned?" I didn't understand. I had friends in middle school; they all ditched me. But the boy who I practically despised is hanging around now?

"I don't know," Bradley admitted. "I just do. It's weird to see you without your usual spark."

I nodded.

"That spark is gone." I whispered it, but I knew Bradley still heard.

"What happened?" He asked; like he was begging me to tell him.

"It doesn't matter."

The bell rang and I took the opportunity to leave. Bradley stayed on the bench looking dumbfounded.


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