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Fairy Godwife
Mrbanie
The girl watched the boy; her eyes shadowed his every step. He was the only one in jeans and a striped polo; had he forgotten today was the 8th grade graduation? Well, it did not matter. It sure made her favorite pastime a whole lot easier.
The boy ambled in circles on the patio, chatting with friends and teachers plus occasionally stopping by one of the two tables that stood vertical to the school for a pretzel rod. The girl would smile at the sight of that. The boy flipped his hair. Her smile would grow bigger.
His guy friends patted his arm. A medium-built, Caucasian gave him a long embrace. It almost looked as if he was sobbing against the boy. His girl friends gave him hugs. A tall, skinny African American jumped all over him like over-joyed grandmother except only 30 years younger. It was amazing how that one boy could change the lives of other no matter how trivial the change may seem. Everyone loved him, everyone. The girl included. The boy definitely changed this girl’s life for sure.
The afternoon was waning. Her inner tussle was close to truce. The girl would not have to embarrass herself in case she suddenly wanted to the boy she loved him at the last minute. She would save what was left of her reputation, she would.
The afternoon has waned. Parents said their goodbyes to each other. Students, especially the girls, began to cry, huddled in close circles before heading off their own ways. Grandparents, aunts and uncles ushered their precious graduates into cars. They drove off to the east, west, north and south with knowledge that only half of them would be coming back in the following semester.
The girl said her own goodbye to the boy in her secluded mind because he was not coming back. That was certain. Her heart would stop aching when that happened. It would finally be able to function normally without the force of love. She would dedicate her high school years to learning, no more obsessions with boys.
He was one of the last to leave. The boy wrapped his arms around the waist of his girlfriend, an Asian. He wiped her tears and kissed her cheek. Her lips seemed to say I love you. (The girl loved him too. For the oddest reason, he held a high eminence in her heart.)
The boy turned from his girlfriend, head down, and hands in jean pockets and walked away. She held her hands together watching, neither of them regretful. All relationship with this boy ended in some way like this. The girl was smart enough to keep herself safe.
Love hurts her subconsciously.
All too fast, the boy was gone, forever walking out of her life.
Goodbye Love.