There is a game I play. The one where you make up stories about people, their lives, their future, their present, their past.

Yeah, that one.

It has been said, that everyone has their own story to tell, all people have to do it open their eyes and watch it unfold right in front of them. My story is about precisely that. And the funny thing is that sometimes, the answer is right there, right in front of you and you just can’t see it…until it’s too late.

If anyone was to describe Winchester Prep in one word, it would be divided. Your stereotypical school filled with clichés, the popular, the unpopular and the one that just didn’t fit.

It was stupid, and yet…at that time, in their little lives, it was everything. They didn’t know what was going to happen – none of us did. A lot of people say that maybe things would have been different. They probably would have. But then, none of us would have learnt, and all nine of us would still be here today, standing beneath the willow in all its weepy glory.

Beautiful Chloe, queen of the school was as composed as ever. Perhaps I was the only one who noticed her chilled fists, her white knuckles. Or maybe not. Devon leant over, taking her hand in his, kissing her knuckles.

And next to him stood a hysterical Holly, hiccupping, sobbing…frankly a mess. Her heart was as big as her wide, innocent eyes. And even after a year, her naivety was still there, still intact. But only just.

Opposite her stood Marshall, his eyes red rimmed, and hollow. As he brushed a hand over his newly shaven head, it shook violently. One of the consequences.

Noting his shaking hand, Elliot Engle simply looked away. He was a firm believer in the right time, right place, and in all his years of teaching, his simple mantra had never failed him. Catching the eyes of Donna, they shared a look, too intense, too reminiscent, and too…heartbreaking.

Hovering in the background was Rafe, his usually cheerful face somber. He’d dressed up especially for the occasion, donning his best suit with only a few holes. He’d even reduced the amount of gel in his hair. Even in a black somber suit, he was suave, every inch the charmer. I don’t suppose it was in his nature to not be.

And kneeling at the base of the tree was A.J. Her red hair ruffled in the wind, as the sun caught the silver chain around her neck, glinting in the sun. She looked more at peace than any of us – accepting, almost. She was dressed in her usual attire – completely quirky, various bits and bobs hanging around the string on her waist, scuffed boots and torn, graffitied jeans.

One by one, we sent our wishes, over the calm lake, and up into the sky. And then one by one, we went our own ways. It wasn’t until nightfall that A.J. left. Taking one last look at the lake, she blew a kiss out into the air, and a single tear fell.

And from my dorm window, I was, as usual, the only witness.

-x-

And here it is, the revamped Winchester Prep. I’m thinking of renaming it. Any suggestions? Thanks for being so patient everyone.