Iris (a short Story) <33

I.
I walked slowly down the hallway, dragging my feet slightly on the hard, gray carpet. Red rose petals lay scattered randomly along the dark green lockers, probably from the roses that students had been carrying around before school hours. Everywhere I glanced, I saw couples paired off and the bright colors, pink and red. Everyone I knew was lost in the tender words of the lover they cared for. After all, it was Valentine�s Day.
The velcro on my bag snapped as I opened it to get my math books out of my black backpack.
�I hate this day. It�s a stupid holiday just to have all the more reasons to think that I will always be here waiting for him,� I thought to myself.
I grasped my clear binder with one hand, the one that I had decorated with quotes. Quotes were my inspiration. Words seemed to be the only things I could get my head around. I walked into the classroom and stood facing the wide open door while talking to several classmates. I stared at the wooden door for a minute as a few people walked by. Then I saw him�Chris. I have always liked him, but he sees me only as someone to turn to when everything is wrong. We have been friends for seven or eight years. This particular morning I couldn�t help but notice that he was carrying a red rose and a small piece of paper folded about five times, fastened with a paperclip. I could tell he was trying to be stealthy and hide it behind his denim pants and navy blue backpack. He seemed to be trying to hide from the girl who was to be the receiver of the rose. His stone eyes pointed forward, and his brown hair lay perfectly, covering the top of his eyes. He held the world in his hands through his warming smile.
�It�s not for me; he has no idea how I feel about him,� I thought. My mind snapped back to reality, and I laughed at the pointless joke being told by Chris� friend.
�Then this one time I took the bottle of Axe��
�I remember that you almost died laughing�� another boy retorted.
I realized I had been spacing out. I turned around as the fake, scribbled-on wooden desk leg screeched. I laughed silently and slowly made my way to the rear of the room. Just then, someone grabbed my shoulders and said, �Boo!�
It was Chris. It was just like him to do something like that, since I try to scare him like that all the time. It was our inside joke, although it made me miss him all the more. I turned around to see that he was holding the rose and the note right in front of him. Then he handed them to me, and I wished that I had something better to say. I felt compelled to scream, but I couldn�t. I just stood there as he held his arms out. My eyes followed his feet as he walked toward me and he put his arms around my waist.
I had been broken so many times before that I couldn�t even imagine this was real. I didn�t really know anymore. It was the feeling of loosing something you never had in the first place. It felt as though my love was ice. Just when I thought it was perfectly frozen, it would slowly melt away. Last year there was a boy who was everything to me until he hurt me deeply. I had found out all of the stories and the lies he had ever told me, and he still wouldn�t confess. I hadn�t done anything to him, but he acted like I was the one to blame. He had cheated on me, lied, when I thought he was honest, but most of all he was the one who kept me going, when the flame in my heart was burning out and the only thing I thought there was left to do was pour water on it. I couldn�t handle it. He knew just how to ruin everything and how to break my heart, making perfect cracks down the middle, cracks that never shattered, but could never be fixed.
The front of the note had a lumpy heart written in red ink with �To You� scribbled inside. I unfolded the paper and threw the shiny silver paperclip onto the white tile floor. I slowly read the first line�
�You said last night on IM that you just wanted someone who likes you for you and cares. Well, I love you. I hope that�s what you want.�
I kept reading, until I got to the last line...
�I wish I had told you a lot sooner because I know how you feel about me; it�s easy to tell. Happy Valentine�s Day! I hope you like the rose. I love you, Chris.�
I stood there speechless. I refolded the note, which was now slightly crinkled off-white lined paper. I walked down the long dreary hallway back to my classroom, but while I walked it seemed as if I didn�t notice anything. Everything around me was blurry, as though I was stuck in a moment that I couldn�t get out of while everyone else was moving on right beside me. It was the strangest feeling.
I walked from my English room to lunch. I smiled as I set my brown paper bag on the cold, black pavement. Chris sat beside me, as we leaned back against the bumpy yellow brick. He slid his fingers in the spaces between mine, and I looked up at him. He didn�t say anything. He just smiled. His piercing eyes looked right through my blue ones. I knew he could see what was behind my eyes and in my mind. He wasn�t just a guy who liked me and told me I was beautiful; he meant it. My friends started to throw the little gray playground stones at us just to make us laugh. The last stone they threw landed in-between our hands. It was cool and chalky, but we left it there because neither of us wanted to move from each other�s warm embrace.
II.
Everyone had always perceived us as the perfect couple, and I had no idea anything was wrong. It was as if our love was drifting away, and I had no way to stop it. It was like diving off a diving board. You dive deep into the water but you�re so deep that it�s difficult to swim to the surface in time to breathe. I would still come up behind Chris and I would wrap my arms around his waist. Then, he would grab my hand. Now he began to let go of me sooner. Maybe I could tell he was different. I just didn�t think anything would change. I had asked him if he was going to break up with me and he just replied, �No.�
On Friday morning, I came to school upset because of the uncertainty between us. I had a sinking feeling as he walked toward me.
�Hey, can I talk to you?� he asked. �I think it would be better if we were just friends.� I didn�t care about anything he said after that. I couldn�t even listen. My smile faded. The last thing I remember saying to him was, �But Chris, all I wanted was the truth, and that�s the one thing no one will ever give me.� I could tell those words stained his mind. I knew he wouldn�t forget them. He gave me a quick hug and put his hood up on his navy blue sweatshirt to cover his face. I watched him through the corner of my eyes, and I saw him collapse around the corner with the saddened look on his face. I could see his friends walk up to him as he lay on the carpet and give him high fives. He took them, but I knew he didn�t want them.
�Good job,� they all said. Those words echoed in my head, like the ringing of bells after you scream too loud at a concert, but these echoes were haunting. He knew very well how much he had hurt me. He had lied.

III.
I was really good at pretending I was fine. What else could I do? Chris couldn�t even look at me. He walked by me that entire day and said nothing. I didn�t know what to say to him either. I would listen to him laugh from across the room. It wasn�t the same laugh as when we were together. It was different; he had changed.
I fell face down on my bed that night. I listened to my iPod switch songs. Iris began to play. As I listened more closely, I remembered that Iris was our song. He would sit by me in study hall and that song would start playing. We would put one of the small ear buds in each of our ears and listen. We would sing it softly in our seats, and when it finished we would laugh at the thought of singing a love song together. As stupid as that sounds, I missed it, everything about it, and everything about him. I made it a point to pay close attention to the lyrics�
�And I don�t want the world to see me, because I don�t think that they�d understand. When everything�s made to be broken, I just want you to know who I am.�
I tried to stop, but the tears burned behind my eyes until I had to let them fall. I wasn�t exactly sobbing; a single tear from my eye landed on the screen of my iPod making it difficult to read the names of the songs. Now they were blurry, exactly like everything and what happened between Chris and me. I clicked to see the album artwork and the tear turned to a wet, glassy rainbow.
When I saw him the next morning, it became clear to me our friendship had changed. He couldn�t even talk to me; he would just stare across the room. I would talk to him occasionally, but every time I tried he would stare into space or put his hands on his head and sigh. I couldn�t understand why he was so upset. I pretended I was fine; he shouldn�t feel guilty.
I sat at the black lab tables in the science room as I heard the teacher ramble on about cells. I drew his name lightly on the table with the eraser on my pencil. I tried to rub it off, but a little of it remained. I kept writing on the table. �My mind tells me to forget you but my heart won�t let me.� Chris tapped my shoulder and handed me a small crinkled up note that read, �I need to tell you something...�
I asked him if it was something good. And all he said was, �Define good.�
By then class was over. I walked out into the large, empty commons room and stared at the artwork posted on the colored walls. I saw the project he had done, and my name etched into the center, then crossed out with black pen. I just stared at it. I didn�t know what else to do. I couldn�t cry now. It wouldn�t help. It�s said that after you cry you feel better. No, you don�t. It doesn�t help. It can�t change a thing.
Chris came and stood next to me, handing me a little note. I wasn�t expecting it to say much. I was just waiting to open it and read that he liked another girl, but it was about me.
�I never stopped loving you. It�s really confusing, and I will explain in study hall. Love, Chris.�
I stared at the chocolate brown iris of his eyes.
�Come here,� he said, as he took my hand and led me outside onto the front steps. He wrapped his arms around me, and he held me there for what seemed like an hour. I didn�t want to move. I didn�t ever want to let go. I could smell his scent, warm and comforting, of cologne and shampoo.
�I love you,� he said.
�Really?� I replied.
He answered me with a soft kiss.