Invisible

I must have been asleep by the time my Mum got in from her date, I wake up to sunshine pouring through my open curtains whilst still fully clothed and led on top of my bed. My head hurts, I wonder if this is a break-up symptom or whether I'm coming down with a cold. Maybe I'm dying, that would be a useful reason to miss school and never have to see Jay again. Oh God. School.

I grab my phone from my bedside table and check the time: 8:49. School started four minutes ago and I've missed the bus – this is not a good way to start the post break-up lifestyle. I contemplate turning over and telling Mum that I'm ill but I know that Jay would think less of me. I need to show him that this break-up hasn't affected me whatsoever. I know, I'll do my make-up, get dressed into those leggings he always said I looked good in and saunter into school a little later – I'll say I had the dentist.

I do just that, making sure I choose the leggings that best make my bum pop, and grab a banana to take on my walk. It's a little over twenty minutes to walk to school, through the dog walkers' field and past the back end of town, and I'm out of breath by the time I reach the reception doors. The reception is full of students hovered getting ready for a school trip and sixth formers helping to escort them – thank God I didn't volunteer.

I get my breath back whilst I sign in and I'm greeted by another latecomer, Spencer Morgan,

"Hey Gable, how are you?" His smile makes him look about five years old, the chubby cheeks dotted with freckles not helping the situation, and making the cigarette hanging from his mouth looks very wrong.

"I'm okay, how come you're so late?" I ask, despite him using the nickname I detest. I stupidly told him that I really didn't like my last name when we dated in year 7, now that's what the entire school calls me.

"I don't have any lessons until after break, you look like a million quid today, Jacobo is gonna have some competition."

I feel my cheeks burning and can't help but look down at the ground, I know I look good but he's not the audience I'm hoping to appreciate it, "Thank you, I've got to get going, I'm forty-five minutes late to Maths."

I walk off through the crowd of students but as I leave reception I hear him call, "I don't think he knows how lucky he is."

I don't think he does either, otherwise he wouldn't have left me.

"You're a bit late," Mr Michaels says with a smile as I walk into the maths classroom. Everyone is staring at me and it's occurred to me that I haven't worn this much make-up to school ever.

My best friend, Emma, is grinning from the other side of the classroom. My cheeks are scarlet again so I hurry to sit down as quickly as I can.

I mutter, "Sorry, I had the dentist," as I walk past his desk.

"Where were you?" She whispers, examining my make-up up close. She's got almost as much on as I do today and she's clearly curled her blonde hair – definitely trying to impress somebody.

"The dentist, I just said."

"You're a crap liar. I have so much to fill you in on, so much has happened."

"Believe me, I have much more to fill you in on," We both giggle and, having had a stern look from Mr Michaels, get back to concentrating on partial fractions.

Once maths is over, we hurry to the common room, trying to have to be around the smaller children as little as possible – I hate being in a school with a bunch of eleven year olds.

Once we're there, I find the first challenge of the day, where do I sit? I used to sit with Jay on the two big sofas in the corner whilst our group of friends crowded around us, each having their designated seat.

He's already sat there, with his legs up on the coffee table in front of him. He looks terrible, worse that I've seen him since his grandmother died; his hood is up and his hair is combed over his face so that you can't even spot the bloodshot whites of his eyes or the bags under them. Is that really what I had done to him?

When he spots me, he gives me a weak smile and I can't help but smile back. The spot beside him is vacant and it appears that every student around him is waiting for me to go and sit down, there's no possible way to get out of this without making a scene.

I take a seat on the sofa beside him, making sure to give him his personal space, and lean against Emma's shoulder, telling her how tired I am. Nobody has noticed any difference. Even Owen, who is often first to joke about anything unusual in the friendship group, has not said a thing.

Maybe it's normal for us to be cold to one another, maybe every single person but me has seen this coming for a while, maybe mine and Jay's relationship was over for a long time before I even noticed. How can nobody see any difference? The arms that are usually around me are rested awkwardly in his lap, the shoulders I usually rest my head on are hunched over, and the eyes that are usually so full of life are completely glazed over and shut off from the world. How can nobody notice that?

"Gable, I see the look hasn't worked then, he looks like he wouldn't be interested in you even if he had a gun to his head." Spencer is leant against the coffee bar with a smirk on his face, the words still echoing through the common room.

Every face turns in our direction, a look of realization on each one: the couple voted prom king and queen were no more.

Jay sits there. He just sits there and watches them stare, whisper and laugh about our relationship whilst he does nothing but chew his nails. I want to scream. I want to shake him until he falls back in love with me. I want to cry. I don't have the power to cry anymore. I don't have the power to do anything anymore.

I storm out. Ignoring all the laughing and whispering occurring behind me, I run and allow the tears to ruin the mascara I'd spent twenty minutes perfecting this morning. I run until I'm out of the sixth form centre and past the smokers by the bins. I run until I am away from everything and everyone. Well… almost everyone.

"Hey, pretty lady, no need to cry. What's the matter?"

He's American, a clear accent, with a tan to prove he must be from somewhere in the sun. He's got the eyes as bright as the green lantern and one of those smiles they use in a teeth whitening advert. He reaches into his jean pocket and grabs a pack of tissues.

"Don't worry they've not been used." As he takes them out, a card falls out with the words 'Churchill Sixth Form' printed across the top.

"You're a student here?" I say through the tears.

"I am." He smiles, shaking the messy blonde hair from his eyes, "Today is my first day, I'm looking for a boy actually, I wonder if you could help me. He's going to be my buddy for the week apparently."

He looks down at the card once more, "Jacobo Alcantara, he sounds very exotic." At the mere mention of the name I breakdown in tears once again, leaving the mysterious American to hesitantly wrap his arms around me.