I stay late today with my field hockey team for a party. There's laughter and applause as each girl gets her respective MVP award (mine is for taking a ball to the face during one game without even flinching), and then we stay to watch some of Ross' volleyball game. But I have to work tonight, so I leave early and walk down to the bus stop at the end of the street, before my usual one, just to kill time.

I guess it was a good idea to get on early, because as I look up after I sit down in my favourite window seat, I see you waiting at the next stop. Something inside me sinks, but something else flutters lightly. I so desperately want to believe that maybe today things will be different. That maybe you'll say something and I won't have to bow my head and rush by because I can't stand to even look at you for the pain it still brings.

You stand at the front of the bus, the same way you always stand. I think it kind of funny that I still notice the little things like that.

I try to be inconspicuous that I'm watching you. I notice idly that it looks like you're watching me too, which I don't get because you aren't supposed to care at all. You hate me. That's what everyone is saying.

Maybe it's just my overactive imagination wishing that things were different. But from where I sit, it looks like you're glancing up at me every couple minutes, and then your eyes drop back to the floor or out the window.

I know it's just wishful thinking as we get closer to my stop, but I wish that you would follow me off the bus and talk to me. Even if it's just to tell me that you never want to talk to me again; I don't care. I just hate it that everything ended without a word between us.

In my head, I can see everything. You follow behind me, say my name, even make a light grab for my arm to turn me around, and I do.

"I thought you weren't talking to me," I say in a hushed tone.

And then you shrug because you can't answer that, and tell me, "I just wanted to talk." And then we go back to hang out at my house like we used to, and we just talk. I tell you everything. I tell you how much I miss our friendship. How I pretend every day that it doesn't bother me, but it's really killing me inside that you turned away from me when I needed you the most. And how no matter what I may say, I don't and never have hated you, and I'd still forgive you for everything.

I blink, and I'm back on the bus. I keep my head down as I shuffle against the motion of the bus to get to the door, but I keep glancing up at you. I doubt that you notice.

Again, I think I see you glancing over at me, too. You're trying to be subtle, but I know you too well. Do you regret anything? I know I do.

I resist actually moving to look up, and when the door opens to let me off, I rush off the bus and head straight down the sidewalk without looking back. It takes until I get to the corner to realize that I am shaking, and tears are beginning to well behind my eyes.