Lonely Girl

"Here's me," she says, pointing to a non-existent spot on the brick wall that's supposedly become our map, "and here," she emphasizes, stretching her arm across ten bricks, "is you. All alone. All lonely."

"No, but I'm right..." I pause, frowning at the burnt red bricks until my eyes water and the vision in front of me begins to blur. "I'm right here," I whisper. "Here."

My finger pushes into the soft skin of my chest that's barely visible above our regulated white button-down blouse. Like most girls at this school, I'm wearing mine two buttons undone at the top so I don't choke myself with an over-starched uniform. I'm sure my grey plaid kilt is scuffed from the asphalt by now, but I don't move in fear of this girl in front of me with the startling violet eyes.

"You were never here," she mutters with frustration.

"Was too," I say.

She shakes her head. "Nuh-uh. You've always been on that fucking brick and I'll be damned if I let you tell me otherwise. You're like, on this island, and you're kind of all by yourself."

"Well I am an island," I joke, "and you're drowning in my vicious ocean."

This is rewarded with a dark scowl. "No one gets to drown me. No one gets to fucking drown me, and I am not going to sit here and take this bullshit. I'm moving my here to over there." She jabs her arm across my face, motioning in the direction of the parking lot.

Oh well, I think. You're the one who thought I was alone in the first place. Make my day and leave me.