It's funny how someone you've known your whole life can feel like a stranger. Like when you pass them in the hallways, your eyes brush against theirs for half a second, and it's as if all those years of broken toys, shouted insults, and ridiculous grudges never happened.
That's Ben Carter now,a ghost from my childhood, roaming the same high school halls but pretending I don't exist. And I'm fine with that. Really. It's not like I miss him or something
Not that he's hard to miss.
Ben has a way of taking up space even when he's not trying. His stupid leather jacket, his unruly dark hair that always looks perfectly messy, and, of course, that motorcycle he treats like it's some sacred relic. He roars into the school parking lot every morning, late as usual, the engine loud enough to rattle my teeth from across campus. It doesn't matter how many "incidents" he's had on that death trap,he'll probably ride it straight into his own funeral someday.
"Ugh, look at him," Rachel, my best friend, sighs dreamily from her seat next to mine in AP Lit. She's half-turned in her chair, watching him through the classroom window as he parks. "How is it even legal to look that good?"
"It's illegal in some states," Brooke chimes in from behind us. "He's probably got warrants out for being too hot."
I roll my eyes and bury my face in my notebook. This is my life now
surrounded by Ben Carter simps. If Rachel or Brooke knew I spent the first twelve years of my life hating his guts, they'd kill me. Or worse, they'd want details. Like Ben is supposed to be a nightmare, and I don't want to make him my whole childhood, I've had many golden moments without him being there, right?
Not that there's much to tell. We haven't spoken in years, not since middle school, when the invisible wall between boys and girls solidified into something more permanent. By the time high school rolled around, we were experts at ignoring each other.
I'd almost convinced myself it didn't bother me.
But then there are moments,like when he looks at me from across the room during a group project or when I catch him smirking at something I said,that I remember the kid who used to pull my pigtails and call me "Princess" just to annoy me. The kid who once broke my favorite doll and then awkwardly gave me his action figure as an apology.
Not that it changes anything. Ben Carter is a nightmare I've spent years waking up from, and I refuse to let him haunt me again.
"Do you think he has a girlfriend?" Rachel asks, still staring out the window. How is he handsome, he looks like a weirdo trying to be cool
"If he does, she's the luckiest girl alive," Brooke says with a dramatic sigh. It made want to throw up.
I snort before I can stop myself. Both of them whip their heads toward me.
"What?" Rachel asks, narrowing her eyes. "Do you know something?"
"No," I say quickly, shaking my head. "I just,he's probably not as great as you think he is. That's all."
Rachel raises an eyebrow. "And you know this how?"
"I don't. I mean-look at him. He's just a guy."
Rachel doesn't look convinced, but the teacher starts talking, saving me from further interrogation. I risk a glance out the window, and there he is,Ben Carter, leaning against his bike, laughing with his friends like he owns the world.
I tell myself it doesn't matter. He doesn't matter.
Because if there's one thing I've learned in seventeen years, it's this, some ghosts are better left buried.