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“No one cares about that but the fishermen.”
“You got recycling bins installed all over the school.”
“And bankrupted the student government in doing so. Face it, Lars: I’m no Melinda Gates—donating millions of dollars to help eradicate malaria, the biggest health crisis facing the globe, causing over a million children to die needlessly every year, just from a lack of a three-dollar mosquito net. I’m really going to have to start working on becoming something special if I’m going to hang on to Michael. I mean, if he’ll even take me back after this.”
“I think Michael likes you the way you are,” Lars said, grabbing the handle of the passenger door to keep from sliding over and crushing me as Ephrain Kleinschmidt swerved into the exit lane.
“He DID,” I said. “Before I blew it by dumping him. And kissing his sister’s ex-boyfriend right in front of him.”
“True,” Lars said.
Which is, in a way, one of the reasons I love Lars so much. You don’t have to worry about him saying anything just to make you feel better. He always tells the truth. As he sees the truth, anyway.
“What airline?” Ephrain Kleinschmidt wanted to know.
“Continental,” I said. I had to hang on to the safety strap to keep from being hurled from one side of the backseat to the other. “Departures!”
Ephrain put his foot on the accelerator.
Can’t write anymore. Fear for my life.
Friday, September 10, JFK International Airport, limo shelter
Well. That really didn’t work out the way I’d hoped it would.
I’d really hoped that what would happen was, I’d walk into the airport and see Michael standing in the security line. I would call his name and he would turn around and see me, and duck out of the security line and come over, and I would tell him how sorry I was for being such a total ass, and he would forgive me instantly and wrap me in his arms and kiss me and I would smell his neck and he would be so moved he’d decide to stay in New York.
Well, I wasn’t actually hoping for that last part. Well, I mean, of course I WAS. But I didn’t really think it would HAPPEN. I would have settled for just his forgiving me.
But it turned out none of it happened. Because Michael’s flight was taking off as we got to the ticket counter.
We were too late.
I was too late.
Now Michael’s gone. He’s on his way to another country—another CONTINENT—another HEMISPHERE.
And I’ll probably never see him again.
Of course, I did the only sensible thing I could, under the circumstances: I sat down on the airport floor and cried.
Lars had to half drag, half carry me to the limo stand, where we’re waiting for Hans and my dad to come pick us up. Because Lars says over his dead body is he ever getting in another taxicab.
At least there’s a bench here, so I can sit on it and cry, instead of on the ground.
I just don’t understand how any of this happened. A week ago—five days ago—I was so filled with hope and excitement. I didn’t even know what pain was. Not real pain.
And now it’s like my whole world has come collapsing down around my ears. And some of it I didn’t have anything to do with—like Michael’s decision to go to Japan.
But a lot of it is my own fault.
And for what?
How am I going to go on without him? Seriously?
Oh. The limo’s here.
I’m going to see if we can go through the McDonald’s drive-through on the way home. Because I think the only thing that might make me feel even slightly better is a Quarter Pounder.
