She's So Gone

The relentless thrum of my heartbeat echoed behind my eardrums, a frantic drumbeat against the cool summer breeze. I was walking across the junior high campus, a bundle of dread and excitement. Just a couple more weeks of eighth grade, then I’d be free, leaving this tiny town and all its inhabitants behind.
New York awaited—a fresh start, a new life where my bifocal glasses and oversized T-shirts wouldn’t brand me an outcast. I shoved thoughts of my next-door neighbor, Kieran Robertson, and his endless teasing, to the back of my mind. Today was about music, about the piano, the one thing that truly made me happy.
My feet hit the concrete steps of the auditorium in a staccato rhythm, and there he was: Jake Herring, my best friend since sixth grade, already seated in the first row. My monumental crush. His dazzling blue eyes and sandy blonde hair met mine as I wrapped my arms around his neck, inhaling the familiar scent of him, feeling, for a moment, utterly at home.
“Oh, get a room,” a voice dripped with disdain. Kieran. My mortal enemy. He stood there, inky black hair falling over green eyes that held a dangerous glint. My heart plummeted. He was here.