They were over and he knew it. They were over and she didn't. The little things- the transitional touches when turning a corner, the frequency of smiles, the speed of walking, all were altered. He picked up on mammorisms and the change in habitual tendencies of their relationship. It was the the kinds of things that your best friend wouldn't understand and would not pick up on. If you were to describe them, your friend would say you were overreacting and being paranoid, but he felt it so deeply that being around her at all was a challenge in itself. Standing next to her was a tease. Any where away from her was a place of halfhearted denial. He knew what was true and consciencely chose to live a lie. In this way, he convinced his mind that he was being true to himself. Being away was a sovereign from the misery of watching their relationship crumble, without having to be there to watch it happen.

He had always been close with Ashley from physics class. When they were younger, he had always looked up to her. Although they were the same age, she seemed mature, and had only dated guys in grades above her. This, as it usually goes, had made him want her more since she appeared to be so untouchable. Because she was so far out of his league at the time, he didn't notice when she began to become more in his range of possible girls to date. As time went on, and the older boys had gone away to college, she made the decision to lower her standards. He, at this point, was already with Jessica, so Ashley never really came to mind. In a parallel universe, a shift of earth's poles, or maybe simple karma, the situation had been reversed. Mike was the one who was off limits, while Ashley was alone and considered her new options.

Jessica was surprised when Mike turned down her offer to get frozen yogurt after school. Even though the weather was starting to cool, it was still part of the pattern the two of them had created during the routine school week. She walked home like usual, thinking while she observed the neighborhood scenery that often went ignored. Life had always been easy; there had never before been a reason to rate and rationalize how events in her life were going. She had always driven through her life as if she were running on a track. There was never a reason to look back or time to think when you were supposed to move forward. However, for a reason she couldn't break down into worded thoughts, Jessica felt as if all her organs had settled in the bottom of her stomach and were colliding into eachother. With this uneasiness came a heightened sense of awareness, and thoughts became detailed with more edge to them, instead of the rounded, unfocused mindset she usually posessed. This wasn't like being upset over a bad test grade, or because of a scraped knee. This was a hopeless, worthless feeling, as if the sun beating down her was there just to burn her scalp, and the trees next to the sidewalk were there to shield any blue in the sky. It was the first time that Jessica had ever felt rejected.

The end of quarter one meant that desks were to be rearranged. Mike sat with his books in hand on the radiator, abandoning his desk as Mr. Henry retrieved the new seating chart. He didn't really care where his new seat was. Physics required concentration, and at the same time was boring and the blandest class he attended during the day. Sitting next to a good friend wouldn't alter the circumstances of the class, as there was no time to talk and nothing to talk about. The sole time the students could talk was on lab days, to a lab partner which was assigned by who you sat besides. Mr. Henry called out names as he pointed to seats row by row. It was as if each student was being told which cell they were to be held captive in every fourth and fifth period, five days a week. Mike slammed his books down on his desk as if his arms were took weak to withstand gravity. He kicked his feet and slouched down into his seat, his head slightly falling back. Next to him, Ashley was getting accustom to her new desk, placing her books inside of it in an organized fashion and sitting with her legs crossed and hair flipped back. She angled her body so that her legs were in the middle of the row, and her body was facing Mike. She began a friendly conversation, making jokes and throwing her head back in exaggerated laughs. Mike smiled at her jokes and witty comments as they waited for everyone to finally be seated. As Mr. Henry began notes, Ashley rolled her eyes and shifted her body towards the black board. Mike held his gaze as her hair was flipped back into place, then opened his notebook and started to write.

Jessica stared at her phone waiting for it to vibrate, or at least show some sign of life. Instead, it lay still on her desk. She opened it up hoping to see a text, but instead she was met with her home screen. Jessica was beginning to despise the screen she saw when she opened her phone, as recently it was met with disappointment. She had been changing the background picture every week, then every day, then numerous times a day as she took out her frustration on the photo that was meant to provide simple decoration for an otherwise square, bland, piece of metal. Mike had stopped speaking to her the way he used to. At first, it was unapparent and didn't hold much importantcy, considering their texting conversations were usually limited to a six word maximum. But it had begun to become blatantly obvious that Mike had been holding out on her. Even at night, Jessica found herself wondering if Mike had went to sleep, as he no longer texted her to say goodnight. Part of the modern phenomenum of technology is the way texts can be deciphered in frequency, letters, and symbols as good or bad. Even to an amateur texter, the messagers coming from Mike were pathetic. Anticipation bubbled up into Jessica's throat. She had made the executive decision to do the inconceivable. With a rush of impulse, as if posessed by a champion cliff diver, she texted Mike first. As the anxiety worked as adrenaline in her vains, Jessica stared at dead black screen, only to be met with her reflection. Five minutes, then twenty minutes went by, and still no reply. Mike usually kept his phone on vibrate, so he always felt it if he received a text. Jessica shrank with the realization that Mike was ignoring her, and turned her attention back to the essay she was supposed to be writing. Concentration was impossible, as every idea for her essay turned into Mike's face, or transitioned into thoughts about Mike. Forcing her voice to sound as chirpy and upbeat as possible, she raised her hand to go to the bathroom. The halls were shielded by a windshield of water as she ran into an open stall and silently sucummbed to the rejection.

After class, Mike walked with Ashley down the senior hallway, passing the usual abundance of students plastered against the locker walls. If this hadn't been school, the situation would most likely be deemed as unfair and poor conditioned, but this was highschool. Cramped spaces, sticky desks, and a room temperature that was never exactly room temperature, but always a few degrees too cold or too hot, was what the highschoolers had grown accustom to. Time had a mind of its own. It chose when to drag on for endless amounts of hours during labs and lessons, and also decided when to fly by (usually during a big test or when attempting to copy homework). School had a beat to it, with classes, lunch periods, clubs, sports, all blending into a pattern in one's mind. Nothing particularly stood out, it was all part of the routine. That's why Mike found it odd when he stopped by Jessica's locker and she wasn't there. He waited for a few moments, scanned the hallway both ways as if he were crossing a street, and then continued talking to Ashley on his way to class.

Jessica , as usual, had her mind in the clouds. The light thoughts that fluttered in her mind usually were not a problem, as she was an optimistic person who mostly thought of positive aspects of life. However, as gloom took over her being and mixed with these fluttering thoughts, she became somewhat lost. This is what attributed to her forgetting an important assignment that had been due that day and having to talk to her teacher after class to discuss her forgetfulness. After a rushed, strained conversation, as Jessica had another class to get to, she dashed into the hallway, nearly colliding with traffic. After regaining composure, she speedily walked to her locker, her legs straight like a soldier in her attempt to maximize the use of muscle in her legs. Her peripheal vision wasn't exactly at its optimum, as Jessica brushed past a mixture of different hair colors and skin tones, until the corners of her eyes revealed only a light, sandy brown color. She nearly missed Mike in her mission to arrive on time to class. She noticed him walking slowly, extremely engrossed in a conversation with some girl. As they past eachother, Jessica turned around and watched his head disappear into a sea of brunettes and blondes. It seemed odd to her, that she had noticed him, even while nearly sprinting to class, and he, walking barely two miles per hour, had looked past her.

Battle

"You don't make any sense"
"You know what doesn't make any sense? The fact that you say I don't make any sense when I clearly do make perfect sense! Does that make sense to you?"
"That didn't make any sense"
"You dont make sense"
"Really? So just because you sound like a babbling retard, you don't comprehend my whole existence? Does that make any sense?"
"Wow you're a horrible person, I have a cousin who's retarded"
"Sorry. But that wasn't my point. Why are you trying so hard to change the subject? It's because you know I'm right isn't it?"
"No, it's because I have a retarded cousin and find that highly offensive."
"No you dont. You've used the word "retarded" before"
"Never"
"Yeah you have"
"Nope"
"Yup"
"Nuh-uh"
"SHUT UP YOU RETARD YES YOU HAVE"
"Offensive"
"Okay...All I want to know, is why you had to lie about where you were the other night, and why you think you can get away with everything, and why you don't care about how I feel, and why you're such a ret-idiot all the time, and why you ever started talking to me, and why-"
"I'm not an idiot"
"You clearly are. Can you answer my question?
"You asked an estimated fifteen questions. How am I supposed to know which one I'm expected to answer?"
"ANY OF THEM?!"
"Well, since I'm such an idiot, I can't really think of any answers right now."

etc.