CHAPTER ONE

“Hey Skyler,” Laurel called from across the school. I smiled at her, and watched as she crossed the courtyard. She sat beside me on the bench.

“Hi,” I mumbled.

“Nice glasses. Are those new? I’m pretty sure I haven’t ever seen you wear them before.”

“My mom bought them for me yesterday.” I smiled easily. “Do you like them?”

“They’re cute” She agreed. “But Sky tell me about this new boyfriend.”

“How did you hear about that?”

“Honestly I don’t remember.” she laughed. “Why didn’t you tell me about him?”

“It’s nothing serious. Just a crush that went a little further than normal I guess. We’re not even together anymore. In fact we broke up a few days ago.”

“Can I meet him?”

Just before I could answer the bell rang. Saved by the bell was an understatement here. I had to hold back my giggle. I waved goodbye to laurel, and threw my backpack over my shoulder. My class wasn’t far away so I got there in no time and took my seat.

“Would you kindly remove the sunglasses Ms. Eden?”

I freeze as ice spikes through my veins, my grip tightening on the sheet of paper that I’m in the process of tearing out of my notebook. For the moment all I can do is stare at the wrinkles my hands have left on the paper, the rip that strayed away from the perforation and cut a jagged line through the lower half. How easily it gave way to my strength and allowed me to make it imperfect; it only took a split second of stress and panic to damage the fragile object in my hand.

“Don’t make me ask twice, Skyler.”
I tear my eyes from the subtle, painful reminder and look up to see, through the heavy tint of the glasses, Mr. Roland looking at me from behind his desk, his chin inclined slightly inward and his eyebrows raised. Waiting. Expecting.

I swallow hard, my skin crawling at the stares of other students that cling to me like spider webs. My heart makes the strange fluttering motion when I realize yours are among the eyes on me. You normally wouldn’t give me a second glance if that amazing intuition of yours wasn’t sending off red flags in your head; I can tell by that doubtful little slant in your eyebrows. I know this just as you know how much I hate sunglasses, how I would jump to obey Mr. Roland or any other teacher because of my strange fear of disobeying authority. These are just things that any two people like us would know. Things that people naturally pick up on after being together for as long as we did. But I’ve come to realize that those little, unimportant facts that meant the world to me only become painful little reminders of those two years.

If only that were the only ache I feel.

“Can I keep them on?” I finally asked, my voice leaping to a panicked tone.

“They’re called sunglasses, Ms. Eden,” Mr. Roland says. Then sarcastically looks around the room. “I don’t see the sun around here.”

I feel the desperation spike in my mind. “I’m sorry Mr. Roland, but my eyes really hurt today.” I wince as I realize my voice is just a notch to high and begging. Will they notice? Will you notice?

“Is Skyler hung over?” Someone whispers from behind me, eager, as though they realize they just stumbled on a gold mind of rumors and gossip. I wish it was something that simple and petty.

“I don’t make the rules. Normally I wouldn’t care, but there’s really no reason and I’m already in trouble with the district for being too lenient.” He replies with a look that says ‘you’re on your own.’ A fight or flight response triggers in me and I’m tempted to disobey; It’s not like this man would harm me for disobeying his wishes.


Of course that’s what I thought about him.

Suddenly I’m trapped inside the events of last night, my back against the wall as I stare into his enraged eyes. My heart pounds against my ribcage just as it had when he let this terrifying side of him show for the first time. He was so close, his red and angry face the only site, his demeaning shouts the only sound. I had no clue what was coming; it came from nowhere as I stopped by his house for a short visit. He must’ve been drinking for a good while, because by the time I had arrived he was good and drunk, and his angry accusations started to fly seconds after I stepped onto his porch. His parents weren’t home, so I had no choice but to defend myself against his accusations.

That’s when he struck.

He left the room in a drunken stupor with me sobbing on the floor.

I snapped back to first hour English, now not with just a few but all eyes turned to me. I bought these ugly sunglasses for that exact reason. In seconds they’ll see. You’ll see. You aren’t one to jump to conclusions but who says you’ll have too? How long will it take you, with your uncanny intuition, to put two and two together? I bring my hands to the lens—can you see them shake?—and pray one last time that it’s not the same throbbing black and blue mess that greeted me this morning. I wish adamantly that I hadn’t thrown all my makeup out in some self empowering attempt to convince myself that I was worth something—Which now only proved that I’m not.

But it’s too late for regrets; I know this awful truth as the glasses fell from my face and the sharp intakes of breath fell on my ears. It’s too late to drop my gaze, but I do anyway. I stare at the cream-colored, speckled linoleum and try to convince myself that they won’t think about what they can no longer see. I pretend that they all have short term memory loss, like that funny little fish from that movie we watched together when we were little and didn’t have a clue what love even was.

“That’s one heck of a shiner you’ve got there, Skyler.” Mr. Roland notes, sounding concerned.

“Yeah, I fell.” I say, forcing out a laugh as if it was just a stupid, klutzy accident. “Hit it just right.”

“On what?”

This voice doesn’t come from Mr. Roland. The familiarity of the sound makes me ache, yet I’ve been so deprived of it that it almost sounds as though I’m listening to a stranger. Besides, I’ve only heard you speak like this in the last conversation we had before we agreed to break up. You speak in such a controlled voice, your teeth locked tight as if to create a barrier between my ears and whatever it is you think you shouldn’t say.

Noticing all of these things in you, picking up on your emotions as I always used to, I wonder what you see in my own face. Shame? Fear? Pain? I feel all of those ramming inside of me, desperate to unleash itself and reveal my weakness.

I have a feeling you’ve already seen. I refuse to trust my voice, so I just shrug. Not a strange reaction for an ex- girlfriend, but if I was being honest with myself for once, I’d admit it longing I feel right now; I’d accept that if I could tell anyone this awful truth it would be you. This thought, however, breaks my grip and causes tears to flood my eyes. I drop my gaze once more to the paper that I had torn earlier. I’ll have to throw it away; it’s not good anymore. It’s become damaged. Just as I have become damaged and imperfect. I’m no good anymore.

Everyone else slowly loses interest, the tear unseen by their invasive eyes. But I still feel one pair of green eyes on me, and I know that I didn’t do well enough. The only person that should be fooled has seen the truth plainly on my face.

You, my Matt, know everything.