I had to apologise to her. Even I knew that. I didn't have the words or any sort of game plan, but I had to at least try. Right?

The idea was to do it before I run out of gas. You know, before the sane part of mind realised how crazy the stupid part was. There was a reason I was sailing through senior high, and that was keeping a low profile. It had been an impeccable game plan so far. Standing out by talking to the very visible weird girl? Not so much under the radar.

I tried to mitigate it somehow. I waited till we closed. In the meanwhile, I pretended she had never even spoken to me. In retrospect, maybe I would have done things differently, but, past is past. I live with a lot of more grave regrets.

The dust caught the blocky sum beams that forced their way through the shutters that day, their path drawn in the motes of dust that floated through the air. It messed up the visibility and my attention a bit, so I almost missed it when she slipped out of the door. As it was, I apologised a dozen times as I wove around misarranged desks and teenage bodies whilst I rushed out to catch up.

When I got to the door and looked down the corridor. She was gone.