She stared at him. Just stared. His blank expression a vibrant array of all she had dreamt they would become. She stared at him as her whole world crumbled at the thought of what could have been. Eyes swollen with tears, she backed away unable to make out where she was going. She was lost in all sense of its being. She had lost the most precious person in her life.
It was only eleventh grade when it began. They exchanged a few words, a small glance or two, but it was not till April they began dating. The typical love story you see in Nicholas Sparks type deals, with adventurous dates and sneaking out late at night to see one another. It all started with a note he passed to her in math class. A stupid little paper destroyed by the stroke of a blue ink pen almost running out, he seduced her with his eighth grade vocabulary reading “wanna hang out this Friday” in his chicken scratch letters. It didn't matter to her, she was in love. She was in the kind of love only those who are meant for each other get themselves into. It was disgusting. I warned her as time went on that he might not be the best man out there, but she was so sure and I was so not.
She sat on the stairs in front of Oakland Heights as the sun beat down on her and she beat down even harder on herself. Her makeup, stained by the streak that had been cleared by her tears, was pinkish that day; I remember because she was so excited when we bought it together.
They had been about two months in when they first started hiding things from me. Their time together grew as my time with her was cut off by this new sudden interest. Our favorite shows became their favorite shows, our special restaurants became their special restaurants as he slowly took over her life. He had become her everything, a dangerous place to be for any crazy hormonal teen.
He went back to his jock friends and shared her pictures she had sent him when they began dating; she searched through the directory to find her doctor's name. She could not remember anyone's phone number but his, the man who tore out her heart. She could not bare to stand up, for the pain of her aching heart crippled her. People passed by and stared. They stared with the same cold stare he had just moments before. Alone in the world she wept. She pushed away everyone so willing to be there regardless her situation. We loved her. I loved her.
They had done it. Three months are not enough time to get to know someone or make a decision like that, but, against all my advice, they did it in the back of their car up there on that stupid hill where all the fresh couples go to make up, make out, and make love.
She had been the star student till he distracted her from her goals. She had all these flags pinned to her walls boasting academic achievements, but they were torn off and replaced with pictures of him. There had been photos of her and I in her locker that got covered with that stupid note and a picture of them at prom. She had replaced everyone dear to her with the “most precious person in her life”.
She sat there, in her tears, as I approached her. I had never been more nervous around the one person I had called my best friend since birth, “Are you okay?” She wept and wallowed as she laid into me nearly knocking me over. Her head in my chest, I held her like I had before all this stuff happened and I immediately knew what he had done.
He could not handle what follows sex, but he was all for it before it happened. He had told her the normal stuff guys say to get a girl to do it with them. He gushed about how much he loved her and that he was okay with not having “it”, just another reverse psychology tactic that works on desperate girls like her. Yes, she was my best friend, but at this point, she was desperate for attention. He never was mature enough to actually say sex, he always called it “it”. He kissed her forehead, then she kissed his lips, and all that gross stuff couples do to get in the mood. I hated hearing about it and I hated thinking of them even going together. No matter what, it happened. No protection, they took a chance and after missing her period, she knew.
She was about seven months along when he told her he could not be a father and that he had school and sports and whatever else he said. He had never taken responsibility. She kept him updated with pictures and schedules for those gross classes about birthing or whatever. He missed them all. The most he ever said about the baby was telling her to abort it. His parents had suggested adoption, but she knew in her heart that she could not give up her baby. That night, he was supposed to be in the waiting room, but he had a football game just hours before and when her water broke at 2 am he answered the phone, told her he was tired, and hung up.
They never talked after that day. He never smiled at her or opened doors for her. They had a class together at the beginning of senior year and he switched out so he wouldn’t have to “deal with that slut”.
She never smiled the same after him. She would go to school, distracted and all cause she had a baby to take care of. Despite everything going on, she managed to make it through high school with a few low grades, something she never would have accepted before him.