I felt a stab of pain as she asked me about the music. Not just in my palms where my nails had dug in, but in my chest where my heart, well, used to be.
She instantly changed the subject; I wondered how she knew to skip over music.
“So I was looking around the neighborhood last night, seems like a pretty cool place,” she said nonchalantly. She chuckled slightly, “Amelia’s looking at me like I’m crazy,” she paused thoughtfully, “I suppose that’s true, I do talk to myself.”
I glanced at her, taking a second to realize what she was hinting at. I shrugged.
She grinned, happy I’d finally acknowledged her, “That’s ok, your forgiven.” I stared at her for a moment, and then returned my attention to window.
“Do you have English with Miss Turner?” She asked after a second. Unwillingly, I nodded. “Great,” she gushed, “Because I totally need a study buddy for that test coming up. How about tonight? Your house?”
Before I could object, the bell rang and she ran out the door yelling, “See you then!”