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This is worse. Definitely this.
“There’s—there’s nothing to figure out.” I spring to my feet so quickly my head spins. I clutch the keys tighter. “We can go our separate ways now or at the end of the game or after graduation. Why drag it out? You and I don’t know how to be friends.” Vengeance fills me up, the way it has all these years. It has to replace the sinking feeling. The drowning. I want to hurt him back. And I know exactly where to jab right between his ribs so he’ll feel it the most. “The worst part is—I liked the person you were today! I liked spending time with you too. And that’s why it’s so upsetting you were holding something back the entire day. You could have told me so many times, but you didn’t. I thought you were different, but maybe you’re more like your dad than you thought.”
Regret hits me immediately. Again with this stellar ability I have to tear him down. It made me strong the past four years, but tonight it only makes me feel small. This isn’t me. At least—I don’t want it to be.
I watch his face as the remark hits him. His eyes grow dark, and his mouth opens slightly, like he might say something, but nothing comes out.
“That’s a shitty low blow, and you know it,” he says. “If we’re talking personal flaws, what about you?”
I take a step back. “What about me?”
He throws his hands up. “Rowan! You’re sabotaging yourself. You’ve been doing it for years. That high school success guide?”
“I hadn’t thought about that in forever,” I say quietly, wondering why I suddenly feel on the defensive yet again.
“You made that list when you were fourteen. Of course you’re going to want different things now. You’re a different person. You’ve grown and changed and that’s a good thing,” he says. “When we were at the zoo, were you actually high, or were you using that as an excuse because you were anxious about meeting Delilah?”
“No,” I insist, but suddenly I’m not sure. That tiny slice of relief I felt—is that what it was?
“Spencer? Kirby and Mara? Your writing, the thing you want to devote your entire life to? You said it yourself. You’re so worried the reality won’t measure up to what’s in your head that you don’t even try things that scare you, and you don’t realize there’s a problem with your relationships. Because if you don’t have to confront it, then it doesn’t exist. Right?”
I’m shaking my head. “I—no. No.” I got onstage tonight at the open mic. And Kirby and Mara, we’re okay. We’re going to work things out. Neil doesn’t know that, but I’m not about to tell him. I don’t owe him anything. I don’t have to convince him that he’s got me all wrong.
He straightens to his full posture. Exactly my height, and yet somehow he seems so much taller right now. “You’re standing in your own fucking way, and until you realize that, you won’t ever be happy with your reality.”
I only have one more comeback.
“If we’re not friends,” I say, my voice this horrible choked sound, “then why are you still here?”
His face is a mix of pained emotions. Hurt, confusion—regret? Maybe that’s wishful thinking on my part.
“Good question.”
With that, he puts his back to me, shoulders hunched against the wind, and walks away.
And then I’m on my own in the cold, dark night.
HOWL STANDINGS
TOP 5
Neil McNair: 14
Rowan Roth: 13
Brady Becker: 12
Mara Pompetti: 10
Iris Zhou: 8
PLAYERS REMAINING: 13
12:27 a.m.
IF PIKE PLACE Market really is haunted, the ghosts would be out right now. I feel a little ghoulish myself as I slump through downtown, past the commercial district and along the waterfront. It’s colder out here. Windier.
I hug Neil’s hoodie tighter around me, wishing it belonged to anyone but him. It’s annoying that it still smells good. Curse you, good-smelling hoodie I can’t take off without freezing.
