44

Eighteen Years Old

SURVIVING SCHOOL IS ALMOST impossible without Moriah and Ophelia. I see Ophelia in the halls, but she's like a ghost. She moves through the crowds of students as if she is caught between reality and a different realm of existence.

I heard from some guys on the basketball team that Milo moved away. I can only assume that means he'd broken up with Ophelia, which is why she's a shell of a person as she roams the halls.

I don't try to reach out to her. She doesn't try to reach out to me.

I know I broke her trust in me at the funeral earlier this summer.

Any trust that was left, anyway.

Life is different now.

We aren't the kids we used to be, innocent children with nothing more than dreams and stardust in our eyes.

We're growing up.

No one really talks about Moriah. The topic seems forbidden. Especially when I'm around. I've heard some whispers in the hallways, but whenever I come around, they quiet down.

I don't care; I won't see any of these people after graduation anyway.

I am numb to everything.

I'm also no fool. I don't think Moriah and I would've stayed together. But I do wish she were still alive.

I wish I hadn't turned Ophelia against me at the funeral. I wanted to pull her close, to comfort her. I wanted to hold her like old times. To act like the past few months had never happened.

Instead, I walked away from the only person who might've understood anything.

If the last few weeks have taught me anything, it's that this is how it was always meant to be.

I was meant to be alone.