• I was sitting by the window, looking out onto the horizon when I thought to myself, Wow, there’s only 6 months left. What was I going to do with my life? I had 17 years to figure out and yet I got nothing. Nothing but some dream that I knew I could not succeed at. I also had the help of my family to tell me that.

    My grades are average and although I know I can do better, much better, I don’t. Why not? Am I scared that even if I work my butt off, someone will always be better than me? I know that will always apply for every aspect of my life but still, what causes me to not focus more? My thought of always just being plain average scares me. I want to do something exciting with my life. Something spectacular.

    “Elisa? Could you please pay attention?” My English teacher, Ms. Button asked from the white board.

    I sighed but turned my head to face her and yet, my mind was still clouded with never ending questions. It didn’t matter that I should be paying attention to how to write a reading comprehension test. It was just a recap of last year so I thought I knew my stuff already. But I guess my boastfulness about knowing everything is another reason why I wasn’t doing as well. How strange when I doubted myself as well. Was I that much of a hypocrite?

    What other reasons could there be? Maybe I didn’t do better because I didn’t like my teachers and didn’t care to please them like some students did? No, that couldn’t be. They just want me to do better. Like they did for everyone else? And then I asked myself, well to myself, I asked them if they cared equally about us all. Did they? Or were some of us favored over others. I’ve heard many rumors that there were but I wasn’t the type of person to believe something unless I saw it for myself. Then again, there was some very strong and compelling evidence against my teachers. However, I didn’t like accusing people.

    “Alright, now I’m going to hand back your Reading Comprehension tests as well as your written personals that you guys did last week. I don’t want any talk going around about who did better. Alright? And maybe for some of you, if you paid attention this class, maybe next time you’ll use these tricks to do better” My English teacher called out, a full stack of white papers under her left arm and a stack of scantrons in her right hand.

    I groaned to myself. Great, another couple tests I thought I did better on but really didn’t. I knew I should have chosen better answers for the reading comprehension and explained myself more on the personal exam. I could feel my stomach drop to the floor as Ms. Button passed the papers around, calling out the names of each present student.

    As Carl went up, I could feel it that there would be a smile on his face afterwards. He always did the best. I wonder what his secret is. Should I ask? No, I would just sound desperate. Or would I? Maybe that was another problem I had. Being scared to ask for help. But it was a plausible reason, wasn’t it? Just last week I asked my Chemistry teacher for help and I got nowhere. I felt like such an idiot after.

    “Elisa?” Ms. Button called my name.

    I sighed and reluctantly pushed myself from the chair, making my way slowly towards the front of the classroom.

    When I outstretched my arm to grab the white booklet and my scantron sheet, I could feel the color drain from my face. Ms. Button didn’t even look at me. Damn! That meant it was just another mediocrity done test. As I opened my fingers and pressed down on the crisp papers, my stomach lurched. My parents told me I could do better and that if I didn’t on this test, I would get nowhere. Was that true? Was I really going to be stuck in this bottomless life of never ending average pieces of work I would kid myself on? I really didn’t know. Were they right about everything in my life? They said I didn’t have the stomach for Forensics but I know I do. And then my mom told me it’s because my Biology mark sucks. Damn! Again, another thing I wanted to do and yet couldn’t because I know I couldn’t get it. My life was clouded with my perceptions. Except the problem was, I was so unsure about them.

    Because I was scared to flip over the white booklet, I paused on my essay. It is kind of pathetic actually. I mean of how I would base my entire life on two silly little tests? It can’t end from something so simple. Can it? There I go again, my perception being so hard to think about and piece together. It’s pathetic

    Bravely, after I took a deep breath to calm my heart rate, which didn’t work all that well, I looked down, but didn’t look at my mark just yet. However, seeing the dark purple marks that were scrawled all over my essay, I could just picture the grade. Perfect. And so I kept my eye sight away from the green and white small rectangular sheet.

    Now that I witnessed the clue to my average, I decided that there was no point in delaying my epiphany. My epiphany towards my life. My epiphany to what I will live like. My epiphany that I will now be destined to become a treasure wife. Not that I was that pretty. Again, mediocre looks. Everything was mediocre.

    I sucked back air and kept it in my trachea feeling my face turn purple before I flipped the page. I was too scared. But why? I really didn’t know. I know I wasn’t going to fail. Or was I?

    Finally, I exhaled and turned to the back at the exact same time. Better get it over with. I squinted one eye lid and braced myself. The mark was screaming out to me to be looked at. To be viewed and its information digested and yet, I could not bring myself to actually look down.

    “I know we’re not supposed to ask each other, but what did you get?” Bevin whispered, turning around in his seat.

    I sighed and shook my head. I couldn’t not tell Bevin. He was my boyfriend. Yeah I might be a little distraught, but come one. I was being stupid. I opened both eyes and looked down. There was a lot of writing that circled the bases for marking chart. The purple made me want to rip my eyes out. How could a color do that to a person? Why would it? Purple was a nice color and yet, with Ms. Button, it meant death. Not physically, but mentally. It killed your ego. It killed your dreams. Unless you were one of the top students, you got nowhere. That purple pen my teacher held in her hands while marking, signified our lives.

    I didn’t even bother looking at the scantron. Just glancing at the red marks on the side of the paper made me want to jab my eyes out with my pencil. And then my pen. And then thinking about it a little while longer, I realized that one of my pencil crayons would suffice. Since the occasion, purple would be perfect.

    “Can’t do it?” Bevin asked me.

    Oh how he knew me so well. I shook my head at him and shyly smiled. He smiled back at me and held his hand out. “I’ll break it to you easily.” He told me adding at the end under his breath, “Even though you probably got an amazing mark.”

    I pretended not to hear him but inside, I wanted to ring his neck. I might get a little better marks then him, but I know I didn’t get an amazing one.

    “Wow!” I heard him say quietly.

    I bit my lip and frowned. Wow what? I asked myself. I didn’t like talking much to other people so I usually spoke to myself. Especially when it came to marks. But Bevin, Bevin I could trust. However, that one faint wow told me that he would betray me. Betray my trust that he would not bring me down. And yet, I wanted to know what it meant. There were two paths that that one faithful word could take. Down the road to righteousness or down the road to a future of nothing.

    “Good job, babe.” He told me as he handed back my essay.

    I looked down at the title and thought to myself of how ironic it was. Hopes and Dreams, What it Signifies. We were to write about what our dreams were representing but with someone like me not knowing what I wanted. That was kind of difficult. I knew that Bevin was just being nice. And then I thought about the reading comprehension. They never really had a purpose. Or did they? What was the reason for them? To confuse us? Because that is definitely what I was thinking.

    “Do you want to know?” Bevin asked me.

    I looked up and sighed, nodding lightly. I guess I should know.

    “Wait, what were they out of first?” I asked him.

    Bevin was just about to tell me my mark when I interrupted him so when my question came out, he frowned and then smiled. Of course I would want to know how much it was out of first. If it was a lower graded test, then I wasn’t so worried. But if it was higher, I would rip my hair out. If it was higher, my chances of doing better would cease to exist.

    “35 for the written and 20 for the reading comp.” He told me.

    Crap! I told myself. Like I said, the higher, the not better. The higher the tests were marked out of, the less likely chance I had to getting anywhere in life.

    I sighed and bit my lip. Just thinking about the numbers I was about to find out made my stomach lurch again. Why was I fretting about this? Why did I care so much? I already knew that it would be an average mark. So why did I care? It really didn’t make any sense at all. But I braced myself even though. I sucked back air, taking a deep breath and then let it out slowly.

    “Oh come on, babe. I told you, you did really well.” Bevin exclaimed.

    “Sure.” I muttered under my breath.

    Bevin rolled his eyes and smiled. Oh how I wanted to wipe that smirk off of his face. I might usually melt when I see it, but now, I was irritated. I bit my lip so I could stop myself from saying anything. I hated complaining and yet, I always want to. Especially about school. I got frustrated with a lot of things but I could never say anything about it. I usually kept things to myself, which I guess isn’t all that healthy, but considering the people in my life, it was the best way to go.

    I rubbed my head and exhaled a breath of air out and then looked down at my desk. I was preparing myself for the news that was to come. Looking back up into Bevin’s green eyes, which sometimes looked brown, I raised my eyebrows and waited.

    Bevin flattened his lips and handed me my tests back. “You really are overreacting, Elisa.” I raised one eyebrow this time so he continued, “26 on the written and 15 for the reading comprehension.”

    Damn! I exclaimed in my mind. My eyes widened at the numbers and I quickly leaned over to get my calculator. I had had math previously so I didn’t bother going back to my locker. There was no point.

    I looked up and glared at him. But he was right. I clicked the button and held my breath. 74. Average. And then I clicked in my other mark. 75. Another average mark.

    “Are you serious?” I heard Bevin whisper.

    I looked up from my black electronic device and tilted my head. “What?” I asked.

    “Nothing.” He told me.

    I squinted my eyes and frowned as he continued. “It’s just that… you always think you’re going to do horribly but you don’t. Stop being so hard on yourself.”

    I can’t help it. I told him in my mind. Or could I? Maybe I just didn’t want to. I was so confused and irritated. And all I wanted to do was be alone. I needed to get home and study. Hard.

    The clock, when I looked at it, would depict if there was one less or one more ally in my life. I looked up and almost smiled. Almost, that is. 3:14. That meant class was over in about a minute. Then again, who knew if it was slow or it was running fast. I picked up my iPod from my pencil case and sighed. The clock on there said the same thing.

    One more minute I told myself and then I would be free. But would I really? My thoughts would still haunt me; thinking I’m never going to be better. Thinking that I’ll never be extraordinary. Never be anything special. But maybe I WAS just being hard on myself. I was probably just too stubborn to admit it.

    I leaned back in my chair and started packing up my stuff, thinking to myself at the same time of what would I think of the color purple if it didn’t have anything to do how well I was doing in school? It was sort of a random thought, but I didn’t care. That happened to me a lot and my friends often made fun of me for it. Not in a bad way of course. Or was it? Oh how I needed to stop contradicting myself.

    When I finished zipping up my binder, after carelessly stashing my papers inside, I picked up my iPod and flicked it to the main screen. Shuffle. I praised the word. Although I wasn’t a very superstitious person, I often found myself asking my little MP3 for questions I sought. I brought the little black device up to my mouth and spoke softly to it. “Will I always be just average?” I asked.

    I pushed my thumb down and slowly lifted to my line of vision. I pressed play and braced myself. To add to my agitation, I Don’t Care by Apocalyptica started playing. You have deceived me my little black rectangle. I thought to myself.

    Whatever, it was a good song so I let it play. Its words sort of reminded me of me, in a weird and twisted way. I really didn’t care what people thought and yet I found myself many times on occasion asking that if I was more smart, would I be more popular or just more of a loser?

    I wasn’t paying attention to anyone else around me and so I let the song play through both plugs. I was so absorbed in the song’s words and meaning that I didn’t even hear Bevin call out to me. It wasn’t until he nudged my shoulder that I looked up to see him standing beside me. I looked around and noticed that the room was slowly emptying. Class was over.

    I got up and picked up my binder, letting one head phone drop to my side. “You okay?” Bevin asked beside me, wrapping his arm around my side when I got up.

    I looked up at him and smiled. It was a fake one, but I didn’t want him to worry about me. I hated it when people did. I nodded and pushed him lightly forward. “I’ll meet up with you.” I told him.

    He nodded and kissed my forehead. Oh how good that felt. To be appreciated I mean. Not that I was complaining about anything else.

    “I have to stop by Shell so I’ll meet you there okay?” he asked.

    I nodded and beckoned

    As he walked forward and out the door, he turned and stopped, taking one last look at me. His crooked smile showed again and this time, I melted. It was funny how perception changed a lot. Just a couple minutes ago I wanted to never see it again and yet now, I longed for it to stay.

    I looked down at my iPod for a second time that class and clicked the forward button. Just before I did that, I asked the same question again that I did before, except this time instead of average, I asked if I will always be this lucky.

    I brought the MP3 up to my face and sighed, smiling at the same time. The Right Man by Christina Aguilera blasted through my speaker head phones.

    Finally, after a couple of seconds standing there, I started moving forward slowly. Not being in a rush, I thought I would just take one step at a time. I knew Bevin would wait for me at the Shell so I wasn’t concerned about missing him.

    Thankfully, it was a Thursday so tomorrow all I would have to do was get through one more day and I was home free. But first, I would have to wait for my sister to pick me up from Bevin’s after she got off work.

    Slowly but surely, I walked through the hundreds of little kids running through the halls. Oh how I wish they would just walk. I loved toddlers and babies and yet, little kids around the age of 10 never seemed to appeal me.

    “Ugh.” I cried as a 7th grader ran into my stomach.

    “Watch where you’re going.” The little boy yelled at me.

    I frowned and watched him run away but didn’t say anything. I wasn’t in the mood. Usually, however, I would raise an eyebrow and some of my wit would come into play. Mind you, I didn’t know if I had that much but that didn’t matter.

    The hallways seemed to get increasingly crowded as I got closer to my locker and as I grew increasingly impatient. Funny how that happened in that situation.

    When I got to my locker, there were three people in front of it. I rolled my eyes and grunted as I made my way towards it. “Excuse me.” I called out.

    The guy didn’t hear me. Not wanting to repeat myself, because I hated to, I lightly nudge the boy in his backpack. He still didn’t move.

    Come on. I spoke to myself. There were two of them, one at his locker and the other in my way and yet, they both didn’t see me. How is that possible? I was wearing a bright orange Lulu Lemon sweater. How can that at all possible not be noticeable? Seriously?

    Finally, I got to my lock and clicked it open. Since I always had the first two numbers down, I was relatively quick when opening the blue metal door. However, I was not lucky enough to have available space so I could get my binders and backpack. As well, I was definitely not lucky when the boy not at his locker hit me in the face with his hand.

    “Owe!” I cried, although it didn’t really hurt.

    I was just trying to make a point.

    “Oh, woops.” The boy called out.

    I frowned at him but didn’t say anything because I think my look said it all. He would probably be thinking I’m a female dog, but I didn’t care. I used to be a pushover, but when I came to this school, I told myself that it wouldn’t happen anymore. Then again, I shouldn’t be saying that because I’m still a pushover in a way. I push myself over. I’m a bully to myself. My perception was that I was strong and yet, I wasn’t.

    The boys took one last look at me after the one at his locker locked up and finally, left. I didn’t care to see them leave so I just kept my head stuff in my locker.

    “Did you hear?” I heard someone call behind me. A familiar voice.

    I didn’t care to turn around to see who was speaking and yet I still listened to find out the owner of the voice.

    “What?” Another familiar one asked back.

    I fidgeted with my bag and binders, although I had what I needed to already, so that I could linger on. I knew it was none of my business, but I was a curious person. Well, when it came to something that had nothing to do with me, or my grades for that matter.

    “Mr. Albert’s is totally on the fritz. I heard he like when apes on someone at the market last week.” The first voice chimed.

    “I don’t believe that. He’s a nice guy.” The second replied.

    “I’m serious. My mom was there. An old lady asked if she could cut in front of him because she only had a couple things and he totally lost it. He started chucking things everywhere and had to be taken out.”

    “I don’t believe you Rica.”

    “Seriously, Carey. I think his wife left him or something.” Rica stated.

    I rolled my eyes and shook my head. The Rica girl was totally lying. I knew Mr. Albert’s well enough. He might have had some heartache’s in his life but he would never freak out on an old person. I knew that for sure.

    Whatever. It was just another “b.s.” thing that complicated everyone’s lives. Rumors that can kill. It was like the purple pen. Something so insignificant and yet it could totally ruin a life. How quaint?

    I shook my head and decided not to linger for another moment.

    “Fine, don’t believe me. It’s true. You’ll see it in the newspaper tomorrow.” Rica confirmed.

    I rolled my eyes again and sighed, while adding under my breath, “Yeah, because a small town newspaper really means s**t.”

    I heard a shuffling sound behind me which I guess signified that the two girls turned around to look at me. I could feel them glare at the back of my head. “And who said we were talking to you.”

    I turned around and smirked but didn’t add anything more. There was no point. I knew what I knew. That was for sure. I was a good judge of character and from what I knew, Mr. Albert’s was probably the nicest teacher that I have ever met.

    I shook my head for one last time as I bent over to pick up my backpack. I wish I was done school already, what with the red and black bag weighing at around 20 pounds each night. Considering how I had to walk about two kilometers twice in a day, a person can get quite restless and annoyed.

    “Damn!” I cursed to myself.

    The two girls behind me stared as I locked my locker and started walking out of the hallway. I never got why someone had to stare when they were getting mad at another. Get over it, I always said.

    As I walked out of the school, I thought to myself about what I was going to do after High School. Another random thought but whatever.

    I continued with my thought and frowned. My mother told me not long ago that if I did well in basketball in the spring, my coach would recommend me for Red Deer College for a full scholarship. Would I be good enough though? My mom said I was but then again, a mother was supposed to stand behind their child no matter what. But maybe she was right? Maybe her perception that I was a great basketball player was actually true. Who knew?

    On my way out of the school, I noticed my principle standing outside of the band room. He was talking to the assistant principle and they seemed to be in a very deep conversation. I glanced their way a couple times before exiting. What were they talking about? I smiled when I thought that it was probably another way to take our grad money away from us. Pathetic. Or maybe they weren’t?

    The walk to the Shell was quite lonely. Although there were many kids around me walking in the same direction, I have never felt so isolated. But isn’t that what I wanted? To be alone? Then why did I resent it so much? How come when I was alone, all I wanted was for someone to talk to me? To make me feel wanted.

    My head was turned down the whole way to the gas station in a pathetic attempt to avoid my ears being frostbitten. I begrudged those who lived in Hawaii. That was my next destination. A warm desolate island away from the hubbub of a large city where I could easily go and sit on the beach in my bathing suit and not get pneumonia would be heavenly.

    When I finally arrived at the Shell, I started looking around for Bevin. He would be wearing a bright green jacket so it should be pretty easy to spot him. As well, his height wasn’t at all that common among teenage boys. Only a couple people were at six feet or over and especially, his build was his own. I could spot him from a mile away, if that were humanly possible.

    “Elisa, over here.” I heard him call from where the cold drinks were held.

    It was kind of ironic considering the frost bitten weather that stood behind the cold doors.

    I started to bask in the warmth of the building as I made my way over to where I heard Bevin call out. Although the temperature in the Shell was perfect, I didn’t bother taking my gloves off. I hated it when I was still shivering and not cold. It annoyed me.

    “Hey you. Are you feeling better?” Bevin asked as he came over to give me a hug.

    I smiled and nodded. Another lie. I was still overwhelmed with everything that happened to me today. And all days for that matter.

    “I’m fine. Are you almost done here? I’m kind of hungry.” I pouted.

    Bevin smiled his crooked smile and laughed, “You’re always hungry. It amazes me how you never gain weight.”

    I narrowed my eyes and gave Bevin a light punch on the arm. “Jerk. I didn’t eat lunch, remember?”

    “Oh yeah. What were you doing again?”

    “I went into the gym for basketball. Since I didn’t go to practice on Tuesday, I thought I needed to get up to key on my skills.” I told him, striking a pose.

    “You goof, come on. I just wanted to get a Mocha for you, knowing you don’t like the ones from Esso. You looked so tensed up in English, I thought you needed something you liked.” Bevin told me.

    I smiled and walked with him over to the coffee machines. Oh how lucky I was. “Thanks.”

    “No problem.” Bevin told me.

    The truth was I really did need one. The sweet scent of the vanilla and the soothing aroma of the coffee would surely lift my sprits somewhat. The way my day was going, I was bound to think any sort of pleasant scent would make me feel better. Just sniffing the air of the Shell was doing a nice job.

    Soon after Bevin started pouring the mocha, I heard a click of the front door. Knowing that many people came in and out of the gas station, at the time, I thought nothing of it. I did however, notice how urgent the footsteps sounded.

    They clicked and clacked towards the North end of the store by all of the groceries. I smiled at the thought. The person was probably a man getting something for his wife. She was probably pregnant.

    “What’s so funny?” Bevin asked, holding out a large Mocha for me to take over.

    I looked up at his brownie-green eyes and shook my head. “Nothing. Just daydreaming.”

    Bevin lifted and eyebrow and took my free hand, walking towards the cashier register.

    As we got up to the front, I looked to the side, searching for the impatient man who disappeared into the groceries. From what I could see, there was no one there; nothing but the overpriced food that was about twice cheaper at Wal Mart.

    “1.95.” The Asian lady told Bevin.

    I looked back at Bevin and the register, coming back to reality. He set a toonie down on the counter and told the lady to keep the change.

    I became so absorbed in thinking about where the person was in the back and what they were doing that I didn’t even realize Bevin walking away from the counter. I guess he tried calling out to me, but being the person I was and being in my own world, I didn’t know.

    It wasn’t until I heard the clicking of the impatient shoes that I looked up. I frowned when I saw Mr. Albert’s disgruntled face. But I guess that wasn’t what caught my line of sight. It was the fact that he had his hand behind his back. But why?

    And then I found out.

    Inch by nagging inch, Mr. Albert’s started pulling his hand from behind his back. Bevin stood just a foot in front of me but now looking at it, I wish he was behind me. I would rather I be put in harm’s way then him.

    There was a clicking sound as time seemed to slow down at a horrible pace. I didn’t know if I really wanted to hear the next noise that came into my life. It was something that would haunt my dreams for the rest of my life. It was something that would make me miserable. It was the sound of a bullet escaping the barrel of a small handgun. It was the sound of a bullet hitting Bevin in the chest. And it was the sound that he made when his body hit the ground.

    I stood there, a blank look on my face, not being able to comprehend what just happened. It wasn’t until Mr. Albert’s pulled the gun up to my head that I came to fully realize what had just occurred. It wasn’t until the clicking sound came into effect that I came to fully realize that Rica had been correct. It wasn’t until I heard the scream of the Asian lady and the abhorrent sound of a bullet leaving the gun did I come to fully realize that perception was completely different from reality.

    I thought my life had ended just then and there, but I was mistaken again. I looked to my left and heard the detestable sound of a body hitting the ground, as well as a scream cut off in the middle of the shot as the life of the Asian woman escaped.

    I guess I thought I would scream if I ever saw someone die but that was another completely false lie. How could I be so stupid? I did, however, feel a small tear roll down my cheek.

    The tear contained everything that I was thinking of that moment. Everything I guess that had escaped my mind before. I shook my head at Mr. Albert’s and frowned, allowing for more tears to fall down my face.

    “I’m sorry.” I heard him say before the disgusting clicking sound came to life again.

    This time, the gun was pointed at my chest. Not my head. So when I fell down to the ground, inch by nagging inch, I was able to crawl over to Bevin’s lifeless body.

    Surprisingly, I didn’t feel much pain. Just the emptiness of dying. I couldn’t hear anything more around me. Not even the clicking sound of the gun as Mr. Albert’s proceeded to taking his own life. However, for some reason, I did hear another type of soft sound clinking sound.

    I looked to my side and almost laughed. Almost. When my old teacher shot at me, I guess the bullet pierced my zipper when it came through me, allowing for the contents of my backpack to pour out. My pencil case fell to the ground as well, but strangely, only one writing utensil popped out.

    The infamous purple pen. I didn’t even remember that I had the sparkly purple gel pen tucked away in my black and gray fabric bag. Not until now that is.

    It’s funny how things tie together. Just about half an hour ago, I was sitting in English, thinking about how idiotic it was to put my future in the hands of a pen. Something that didn’t even have hands. Something that didn’t even have a heart. But in a strange way, it had life. Something that was slipping away from me.

    Second by precious second, I lay on the ground staring at the pen, trying to pace my breathing as I clutched Bevin’s hand hoping that someone would help us.

    And then it struck me. Why did Mr. Albert’s do this? I tried to lift my head but it was becoming increasingly difficult to even move my arm. Finally, I brought my face up and stared at my teacher, his body lying just as still as Bevin’s a few short feet in front of me.

    Another tear rolled down my cheek as I thought to myself, this is what Ms. Button was trying to teach us all year. She was trying to tell us that we weren’t supposed to focus on what we thought of things; that our first impressions never really spoke of the truth in everything. And that if we were to truly see reality in the finer points in life, we were never to trust what we had perceptions on.

    I closed my eyes, not willingly, but closed them non-the-less and held onto Bevin’s hand. I thought I could hear the faint sound of sirens, police, ambulance and fire trucks a like coming towards us, or so I thought and that was when I laughed. Were they coming for us? Or was I just wasting my time thinking that there was even a significant amount of a chance that I would live until tomorrow. Maybe I would, but for once in my life, I was going to wait until it happened. I wasn’t going to put my faith in something when there was a smidgen of a chance that nothing good was going to come out of it.

    Stupid purple pen. Funny how I cursed it when I was lying on the ground, pulse after pulse slipping into the dark abyss of death.

    So that is all that I learned this year. Everything that I have come to figuring out lies with me now, on this cold and dirty floor in my hometown gas station. Pulse after pulse I came to the ending result that maybe if I paid more attention in class, my life would turn out differently. Maybe, instead on lying on the ground, hoping that Bevin, not I, that Bevin was alright, I would be in his living room, sipping homemade hot chocolate and watching Family Guy. Stupid Elisa.