-You Don't Know Her-You hear the bell ring, gather your things and push into the crowded halls on your way to fourth period. You pause to say hey to a guy on your football team: you exchange high-fives and good-luck's for today's after-school game before saying goodbye and continuing on. Several yards off, she's standing in the doorway of her class: you don't see her. You almost never do, and sometimes she prefers it this way. You don't know that she's loved you since freshmen year. How could you? You've only spoken to her once, and she had been blushing furiously the entire time, glancing at her
Blue-Jay"I don't think I can do it anymore." The girl says this. She is sitting on an old wooden bench under an even older apple blossom tree. Sunlight falls in stencils of gold across her face and arms. "I know it's hard." This is said by the boy. He is sitting beside her, his blue eyes glinting in the dappled light. "It's hard but you have to." The girl stares down at her hands. "I'm sick of the apologies." "What do you mean?" "The others. They apologize to me. Even my teachers do it! Why are they apologizing? Do they think it will make me
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