Angel Dust by Jasmine Austen (best biographies to read .txt) 📖

I wasn't there when she died.
I wasn't there when that knife pierced her heart, I wasn't there to save my best friend.
Isn't it funny? I wished that I was there, in order to save her but if the odds weren't turn against me, I might have died instead of her. It would have made it better somehow.
I haven't cried yet. How could you cry when lies have been building up to make you better? "She's in a better place", "She's alright", "She will miss you as much as you miss her". You almost believe them and somehow, it actually numbs you from the pang of sadness. I wouldn't cry if I tried. The lies were somehow a sick, twisted morphine, leaving me dry, numb and confused. I was hooked on these, it kept me in this world.
I looked at the black chalkboard, the words twisted and warped into new words. I was no longer in history, I was reliving the horror, even though I wasn't there, I could picture exactly what had happened. The fight,the knife, Kevin, her...

"Mrs. Andrew?" I ask, raising my hand. I felt that strange choking, the tears could not come out because I kept blinking rapidly to stop them.
"Yes, Erin?" Mrs. Andrew asked. Her eyes were anxiously looking at me, like I might start breaking down. I was strangely used to this look, ever since April 5, people have been giving me that look everywhere. It didn't bother me, it kept me hooked to reality, it made me know why

they were looking at me like that.
"Can I go to Mrs. Jackson?" I couldn't just stand there and let those horrid visions mock me and taunt me for the rest of the class period. I could here the whispering, the murmurs of the other students in history class. I pretended I was oblivious to them, especially Lauren Call's giggles. It was the only thing I could do, pretend that they were not whispering, that they were not murmuring, that they were not taunting me.
"Of course, Erin," Mrs. Andrew said hastily, her short legs pump to her desk and she began writing something on a piece of paper. "Just let me write you a pass."
I nodded, and began drumming my fingers against the desk in impatience. I did not look at the board, I did not look at my classmate, especially not Lauren. Just at my fingers, noticing strange things about them.
My fingernails were short and nubby from the constant biting. I slowly began to turn them around, to my palms. The pink lines were abnormally short. I remembered when she

used to trace them and tell my that I might die before her. How tragically ironic she was.
Sometimes, I still can't believe she's dead. After school, I sometimes call her cell phone, to ask her about what should I do about that pesky English paper. It would go straight to voice-mail and then I will feel that numbness wash over me and I would hastily hand up, to not hear her voice, to not let those tears drop out my eyes.
"Mrs. Sing?" Mrs. Andrew asked. I looked up and blush on instinct. I got up, looking at my feet. They were covered by my black converse. My converse are my favorite shoes, they were covered with stars and hearts and had random words that made up me and her

. They symbolized our friendship since she had the exact same pair as me.
I grabbed the pass and departed from the classroom. It felt good to be out of there, like opening the door of fresh hot spring air after a cold winter. I walked in the hallway, feeling odd. It was eerily quiet without the shrill shots of girls getting caught in a water fight, the too-loud locker slams and the high shouts of the seniors.
As it was peaceful, it was also heart-breaking. She made memories here in Martin High. Everywhere I looked, I saw her. Her silky blue/black hair, her big brown eyes and most of all, her smile. It was big, like the cat from Alice In Wonderland. It brightened up high school but most of all, it brightened up my life.
I walked down the hallway faster, my legs picking up speed more and more and soon I was running. I felt the tears that were building up inside me began to spill out. I kept on passing her, her funny jokes, her big brown eyes, her blue-black hair, her soft voice, everything.

I was trying to escape it but at the same time try to embrace the painful memories, not wanting them to be lost. I just couldn't forget about her because she was my life, she was my everything and more. She was the best of all friends. She didn't talk about you, she only pointed out the good things about you, that was what everybody loved about her.
By the time I reached in front of Mrs. Jackson's office, I was panting and still had tears spilling out my eyes. I paused in front of it, starting to regret coming here in the first place. Mrs. Jackson brought up crude memories of my past with her, ones that made me go home and have nightmares but she said that these things were "perfectly normal" and that they would help "enlighten me."
I didn't believe her.
But she had these potato chips, ones that sat on her desk in a nice big, clear bowl. They were salt & pepper chips, they were Michelle's favorite. I remember when we used to sit down in her room crunching on them and talking about the latest gossip in school.
"How can you like these?" I use to ask. I didn't really like the bitter taste of the salt and the spicy taste of pepper mixed with each other.
She use to shrug and always say,"I'm Michelle Yang, you're Erin Sing, my taste in food in different then yours." She use to always pause and then look at me sideways and say,"And my taste is always better."
I gripped the door knob before pushing it open, my heart clenching at the memories of her. I entered the room quickly and quietly, feeling the aura change from an unpleasant tense aura to a too-cheery, too-happy one. The falcon yellow walls decorated with self-achieving posters always seemed too optimistic to me, so did the light blue too-comfy chairs that were placed in front of the cherry wood desk and especially

Mrs. Jackson.
Mrs. Jackson was a perky woman. She had bleach blond hair that was always curled outward with a bright but pale complexion. She had a heart-shaped face and crystal blue eyes that seemed to look right into

you and these huge lips that were painted the most cherry red. She had this anchor-woman thing about her, those annoying ones that always seem to ask you too personal questions, that's why I always stayed guard with her.
"Erin Sing!" Mrs. Jackson said in a pleasant voice. I pulled up a shaky grin before wiping my face, making sure I didn't look like I cried. I always seemed to put on this facade with Mrs. Jackson, I just loved playing with her.
"What might bring you here, my dear child?" Mrs. Jackson asked me as I shuffled into one of the light blue comfy chairs. I slouching into he seat before my hand reached out sheepishly, snatching a few of the chips in my hand before leaning back. Roger Fellow's Salt & Pepper Chips were Michelle's favorite. I savored the spicy pepper taste along with the bitter salty taste that danced on my tongue. I always did this for Michelle, every time I came to office. It felt as if I was honoring her somehow with these chips, that they brought me closer to her.
"Um...," I struggled with what to say. I didn't want to break my facade by telling her I almost broke down in class but I couldn't get any other excuse to come to my mind. I sighed before murmuring, "I didn't think I could hold on in class."
I watched as Mrs. Jackson's smile grew wider as her crystal blue eyes grown bright with excitement as she grabbed a blue pen that was next to her before jotting down something on a piece of paper. She was finally getting something from me, I wouldn't blame her if she wanted to write something.
"Why not, Erin?" I looked up, biting my lip as she raised an eyebrow. I felt like I was under a interrogation of a crime that I did not commit, like the questions were only tricks that would soon come to the truth.
"I...don't know," I whispered. I really didn't know what happened in class, I didn't know why I cried or why I ran down the hallway, trying to get away from Michelle. I didn't seem to know anything anymore since she died.
Mrs. Jackson sighed, taking off her heavy blazer and setting it on the back of the chair before leaning on the desk. "Now, you see here Ehyrin?" she asked me as I put another chip into my mouth, looking in her crystal blue eyes. "This is what I don't like when you come in, you always seem to act like someone just sucked the life out of you. Now, sweetheart, would Michelle want that?"
I cringed, wanting to shrink into the chair. Her name brought painful memories. Michelle Yang was an extraordinary girl with an ordinary name. Her small Chinese eyes that were the warmest brown, her small upturned nose and her fair apple blossom skin with her blue-black hair. She was extraordinary, she always was.
"N-No," I said, biting my lip harder, feeling it swell up. I wiped my eyelids, hoping that there were no tears that threatened to spring to the surface. I needed to prove that I was strong and tough enough to stop going here since it was pure torture to be reminded of the painful but fun times me and Michelle had together, which ended in death.

Publication Date: 04-05-2012

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