Untitled Fiction Story-- Lindsay

              Natalie's legs pulled her through the school hallway, dragging her feet mindlessly across the white vinyl floors. With her bookbag nearly weighing her down, she looked, with her head slumped, her brown hair curtained across her face, like total, bland, mess. She was late to class, but she didn't care. There were a few stragglers hurrying to their classes, most likely late by now. Each kid who passed looked at her funny, as if they had no idea what had gone on that weekend. Yeah, right, there is not one person in this school that doesn't know, she thought to herself.
               She had skipped lunch, an open room filled with watching eyes that she knew would follow her to her seat, where she would sit alone. Her friendly cheerleading team members that always sat with her would turn on her, their usual bubbliness now hushed whispers of snide remarks and scowling rumors.
                Instead, during her lunch period, she had gone outside and sat on one of the benches in the courtyard that overlooked the valley beneath and the football field. She wanted to recognize pain in the place that reminded her of it most. The sky was a hard blue that afternoon, like the greyness of the ocean, but with the sun's reflection casting a calming sea blue across the vast open nothingness. That's what she was-- a hard shell nothingness, except her mood was blue all over.
                 It was a Monday. As always, there was the normal complaints and groans that could always be heard on Mondays, yet there was an echoing quiet that surrounded Natalie as she padded through the hall. The previous Friday night, she had been at the top of the world. She had performed during the halftime period of a homefield football game, her cheerteam bouncing and moving in perfect rhythm, the smiles of the crowd as big as her own. Her freak of a boyfriend sat watching her from the stands, a toothy grin on his face. It had all been a bet. Her friends had given her money to flirt with the dork, and humiliation was beginning to eat at her. Saturday morning, through text message, she broke the detailed truth to the kid. And she hadn't done it gently. At least the stupid breakup was off her shoulders, and she would never have to talk to the kid again.
                 No one would.
                 Sunday morning, there had been breaking news of a highschool teenage boy that had committed suicide in her town. His picture on the TV had said it all. And it was her fault.