The Words Unspoken

• Amelia Bradley, Grade 11
• Short Story
• 2021

I watched her cry outside the classroom. Her mental health drowning in a flood she didn't understand. The face I had grown accustom to turned pale with fear of telling her parents a secret no one could understand. She couldn't begin to explain why she wanted the world to disappear. Why she wanted to rid the world of her beautiful brown eyes. The eyes I saw every day, the eyes I would want to see for the rest of my life. Her eyes slipped shut, praying for no one to notice her, I did.
I saw the way her lips moved softly to the sound in her head. I saw the rushed movements her hands made as anxiety crept in. I saw the disappointment in her eyes as her mind worked at speeds I could never comprehend. Her eyes lift up to mine.
'Hey' I mouth to her. Slowey her lips turn up in a smile, I saw the appreciation flow through her as she slowly nodded through the icky feeling.
'Are you ok?' I whispered with full knowledge she couldn't hear me. Her perfect hand untangled from around her legs and she put her thumb up in understanding. I smiled at her in awe.
My hand flung up so fast a frown past over her face from outside the window.
"Miss, I need to go to the bathroom." I straightened up in my chair, dragged my feet out the door and stood before my best friend. I wanted to tell her this little story just then, I wanted to hand her the world on a bronze platter because I knew she thought silver and gold were cliché.
"There's water in my bag, and a oat bar... take whatever you need, you look like a ghost" I smiled and walked off to the bathrooms.