I feel my heart pounding in my chest as I watch the clock in my last period class. Only two more minutes until school’s out, and then I’m off to talk with Kyla. God! What am I going to say? I don’t have anything planned out! No spectacular speech that will help ease her pain, or make me look like any less of an ass. But I suppose in cases like this, elaborate speeches don’t do any good. My stomach lurches as the bell rings dismissing the students from class. I wearily make my way to my locker, grab my books, and head over to my car.

            She’s already there by the time I arrive. She looks like a mess, but still as pretty as ever. She’s looking out into the distance, and I walk up to her, placing my hand on her shoulder, not wanting to scare her. She jumps a little, looks back at me, and moves away. I move closer to her, but she puts up her hand.

            “Don’t…” is all she says, and I nod in response. I unlock my car, and we both get in. Despite having no hints as to where she wants to go, I leave the parking lot, heading to where I think she wants to go. I have been dating her for five months; I can still read her pretty well. And I think I know what place she has in mind. I stay silent, waiting to see if she’s ready to talk, but I know she’s waiting until we stop. I can see her eyes glistening with unshed tears, and I wish I could make the pain go away. We pull up to a park, but not just any park. It was the park where she first told me she liked me and asked me out, then where we celebrated our one month anniversary. I know it sounds crazy to bring us here; to bring us to a place where there are all these happy memories, but I can see she’s not as tense now. We don’t bother getting out of the car.

            “Spencer…” she starts off looking towards the playground. Clearly she doesn’t want to look at me, I guess I understand. “I need to ask some questions before we can start talking. I just…I don’t think I can fully concentrate with these nagging in the back of my mind.” I nod my head before realizing that she can’t see me.