We belong way down below

She turned on her heel and started to head down the hall, but felt a pang of guilt and spun around quickly, biting her lip. “You know,” she said pointedly, giving him a look that surely would have incinerated a lesser being, “I really do think you owe me an explanation. And that’s all I’m going to say on the subject- all right?”

Winnie looked up with feigned surprise at the boy. She was good at this, or so she’d thought. “Hello,” she said flatly, giving him a suspicious glance. “Uh…can I help you?” She shook her head, wishing her heart would slow down for just a moment. She bit the inside of her cheek hard, until she could taste a bit of blood. Twist the knife, she thought. “That is, do I know you?” The answer was obvious— of course she did. Winnie dared venture to assume that she knew Rich better than anyone else in Hollywood Pointe, save for /maybe/ Eli. Maybe. But she had made a plan, and she had to stick to it. Winnie waved to an imaginary fan from the other end of the hall, and called “I’ll be there in a minute— actually, you know what? Just go on without me! I’m a little tied up here!” She turned her attention back to Rich. “Sorry about that…whoever you are. You were saying?”

Rich had expected two different reactions, but neither of them seemed to correlate with what he was getting. She was almost expressionless, and her questions suddenly made it obvious just what she was doing. She was pretending she didn’t know who he was. While his eyebrows furrowed in confusion and his mouth parted slightly in shock, he soon shook his head, a few stammers escaping him as he tried to figure out how to respond to this. Then he saw her call out to someone, and he turned to see who it was, but couldn’t tell who she was talking to. What was going on? Clearing his throat, he stared down at her for a few moments, wondering what he should do. But then he decided, even if he didn’t know whether it would be the best decision. But it was only fair. “I’m Rich Goldsworthy, I just came here from Bristol,” He replied blankly, as if this ‘first’ conversation were completely normal. “Figured I’d meet a few new mates here or something...what’s your name?” He knew he was being rather petty as some called it, but two could easily play at this game.

Winnie had used the summer to her advantage– or, what she believed was her advantage– to decompress completely. So Rich had gone back to Bristol, and hadn’t even offered to bring her along. Any time she remembered this fact, and felt a little pot of anger begin to bubble up inside her, she would take a very deep breath and shift her focus to golden retrievers wearing party hats. It was her safety image– the one her therapist had given her.

She had started seeing a therapist.

That doesn’t make me crazy, Winnie mentally practiced saying to people, in case it ever came out. She didn’t plan for it to, but then, she didn’t plan for a lot of the things that ended up happening in her life.

It wasn’t really a therapist. It was more of an anger management professional.

Because the truth was, she had been angry when Rich left. Angrier than she had been in a long time. It was almost as though she’d gone through the stages of grief– beginning with denial that he’d even fled Hollywood Pointe, and eventually leading to anger. In July she had started seeing her therapist, and things got better. That was when she started to deliberately forget the events of the past school year, and the craziness of it all– the first time she met Rich, to their fights, to that godawful accidental kiss at the dance– she just let it all go. As though none of it ever happened.

Her plan was to go about the first day of her junior year as though they’d never even met. But when she walked into the building and turned, the first thing she saw was Rich at his locker, and she instantly felt palpitations. Stop it, she silently reprimanded herself. Can’t miss someone you never met.

So with an entirely false air of confidence she charged past his locker, her dark hair flowing in the breeze generated by the fans being pointed in her direction by two students at the bottom of the social totem pole. She kept her gaze forward, resisting the urge to turn around to see if he noticed her. Winnie stopped at her own locker, which had been freshly painted baby pink and decked out in glitter. And she stared at it, frozen. 

What was she supposed to do now?

As he stared into his locker aimlessly, Rich felt a strange, unnatural breeze whoosh by him, and he only had to turn around halfway before he could sense who it was. She was still here - why wouldn’t she be? Maybe a small part of him had worried that she’d left and moved somewhere else or something over the time span of the summer. But no, she was here, only a few feet away from him for the first time in months. Slowly and cautiously, he turned around all the way, watching as she approached her own locker. It being obvious which one it was, and he was reminded of all of Winnie’s signature trademarks - something he’d never originally thought he might miss. His nerves already heightened just at the sight of her, and he couldn’t help but wonder if she’d already seen him. Would she have approached him if she had? He wasn’t sure. But he took a deep breath, stuffing some books in his locker before he slammed it shut. Then he stepped towards her carefully, pausing only a bit away from her as he glanced at the ground, attempting to anticipate her possible reaction. She might grin in excitement and hug him, or she might just slap him across the face for even approaching her in the first place. It could go either way, and he tried to be prepared for either reaction. Finally he met her gaze, and he reached a hand behind his shoulder, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. “...Erm, hey.”

“Richard, what are you waiting for? Let’s get a move on! We don’t have all day!” Though she was yelling in her naturally-shrill yelling voice, Winnie was grinning. “This is going to be the best vacation ever, isn’t it?”