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“Bye, Elijah. Call me…” she laughs as the car speeds off. I go on social media and click on Taylor’s Instagram. It’s private now. Luckily, I’m still following her from high school. There are hate comments under her most recent picture posing next to Stephanie and Olive.
... Go back to California
… Brother fucker
… Ew shes pathetic lol
… Pick me
… Cheater
12
TAYLOR CROMWELL
Icontinue to block people on my Instagram. Some of the comments are so cruel, I can’t imagine being so mean to someone I don’t know. Elijah will pay for this. I don’t know how, but he will. His little act this morning didn’t convince me. I’m not sure what he was trying to accomplish last night, but I’m already over it. I think I make him nervous; I think King also makes him nervous, which I don’t hate.
Right now, he has the upper hand, and he also has everyone thinking I’m someone I’m not. And who’s going to believe me over the center player of the University? They’d say I’m trying to get five minutes of fame; I’m trying to accuse him of lying to get him off the team. If I want people to believe me, I’ll have to show them that Elijah isn’t the perfect little hockey player they think he is.
He just left for his jog, which I happen to know by now takes him up to an hour sometimes, which gives me just under an hour to snoop around his room. I creep down the hall and into his messy room. It smells like man in here. Like a mix of sweat and cologne. He has hockey sticks plastered to the wall, the paint the same colors of the Minneapolis NHL team. How old is he?
I rifle through the clothes on the floor, finding them to be mostly dirty. I’ve never seen him do laundry, but at least Jessica doesn’t come in and do it for him, either. I crawl under his bed, finding that it’s surprisingly clean except for some spare blankets and a random hockey helmet. I kick the crap around in the room, knowing he will not be able to tell the difference. Maybe he has some dirt on his monitor. I power it on just to be blocked by a password.
I type in the obvious answers.Hockey… Stpaulroyals… Barnacle.
The screen opens and I’m in. Really? The fucking dog? Maybe he has a soft side I don’t know about. Somewhere deep down inside him.
I scroll through his emails, all promotional ads and fantasy hockey stats. I click on his archived messages and see a name that makes my stomach churn. Jared.
I click on the messages, and my worst nightmare is confirmed. Jared sent Elijah all the old photos. Even photos of us together before our relationship went to shit. Even photos of me from my OF account. I cringe at the thought of Jared reminiscing with Elijah and the pair plotting my demise. I search through his other archived messages and find nothing of importance except old messages to his professors begging for extensions on tests. If I want him to feel the pain I feel, I’ll need to get him for more than untimeliness.
I check his bathroom next, which is cleaner than the rest of his room. Even the toilet fucking sparkles. Is that a cleaner next to the bowl? Weird. I dig through his drawers and find toothpaste, brushes, cologne, tweezers, nothing important scattered in each one. I search the shower and tub and find nothing but three-in-ones labeled “Captain” scent. Finally, I realize I need to check the medicine cabinet.
open the door and find what I’ve been waiting for. The game changer. A bottle of Xanax.
I hear the front door open below me and close the cabinet quickly, making a run for my room, trying to be as light on my feet as possible. When I get there, I order a hidden camera online. I’m not sure what I’m going to do with it yet, or if I even have the audacity and nerve to use it on someone, even if that someone is Elijah.
I call Mom and talk to her for the rest of Saturday evening. She tells me she’s doing a bit better, that her new boyfriend is fun to be around. I hope that he treats her right. She has a tendency to like men that are no good for her. But she sounds happy, and that’s what really matters to me.
* * *
The next morning, I text Olive and Stephanie to see if they want to hang out., but they’ve both got things going on today. So, I go downstairs and talk with Dad.
He’s seated on his lounger in front of the TV with the fireplace on. Barnacle is curled up tight in his lap, sleeping away.
“Hey, want to do something today?”
Dad takes a sip of his coffee from the table next to him and turns down the volume of the hockey game. “I would kiddo, but Jessica and I are going wine tasting today. It’s not supposed to rain so she got us tickets. You’re welcome to join us if you want to.”
Wine tasting with Jessica is not high on my list of things I want to do on my day off. “Oh, that’s okay… just looking for something to do.” I plop down on the couch next to him, which wakes Barnacle.
“You could ask Elijah if he wants to do something,” he suggests. “He doesn’t leave until tomorrow for a game.”
“Dad. No.” I give him a look like,what the hell?
Dad chuckles and sets down his coffee. “You two used to be friends, what happened?”
“Ugh. Please let’s not talk about this.”
