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Is he still mad at me for Ashley? Or has he heard about the mystery guy and the empty classroom?
“I’ve been around,” I tell him. “I’ve been here.” Then I decide to address things sideways. “I’ve been busy, for sure. Tests and showing new students around and everything. But I’ve been here, and if you’ve wanted to see me, all you had to do was call.”
He slams his locker door so hard it hits the locker next to his. I startle back—more at the movement than the noise.
“Can you hear yourself? All I have to do is call? Is that how it’s going to be? Should I start making appointments with you? Jesus.”
People are looking at us now. We are that couple fighting in the hall.
“I’m sorry,” I say. I’m not sure what for. I’m just sorry.
“Do you even care that I had a shit day? Did it even occur to you to ask?” he challenges.
“What’s wrong?” I ask now.
/> “This conversation,” he says, this time slamming his locker in the direction of closed. “That’s what’s wrong.”
It’s not just this conversation. I have done a hundred things wrong. I have become the kind of person who worries about being caught, not about what she’s done.
I don’t want to be that kind of person.
“Can we talk about this?” I ask quietly.
“I’ll see you later” is Justin’s response. Which is something, but not very much.
The bell rings and people start to hurry. A few take a moment to look at me, to see if I’m going to give them a meltdown worth talking about.
I disappoint them in the same way I disappoint everyone else.
—
Lunch is tense.
I missed Justin between first and second periods—I don’t know if this was deliberate on his side, or if my timing was just off. When I saw Preston between third and fourth, I asked if he’d managed to contain all the rumors. I made it sound like I was joking, but he saw right through me. He assured me that the gossip had moved on, as gossip tends to do. I know this is true, but it would be just my luck to be the exception.
I want to save the seat next to me for Justin, but when Rebecca brings over her tray and sits there, I can’t think of how to ask her to move down without sounding weak. When Justin comes over, I can see him looking at that taken space as if it’s evidence. He sits a couple of seats away.
At the very least, I want a hello from him.
Our friends notice this. They notice it, but they don’t say a word.
I should be figuring out a way to save things, to make him feel better about me. But instead I have the stupid, unhelpful thought: A would never do this to me. Even if we disagreed. Even if we fought. A would never ignore me. A would never make me feel like I no longer exist. Whatever body A is in, A would always find a way to acknowledge me.
There’s no way for me to know this as a fact. But I’m certain of it as a feeling.
“Rhiannon?”
It’s Rebecca’s voice. She’s asked me something.
I leave my thoughts for a second, return to the table. I look over to Justin and see that he’s paying attention to me now. He saw me drift off. Once upon a time, he would have assumed I was thinking about him. But I don’t see any of that in his face now. He lowers his eyes back to his lunch.
“I’m sorry,” I say again. But this time it’s to Rebecca, for not listening to whatever it is she has to say.
—
You have to fix this.
That’s what I’m telling myself all through the rest of the day.
