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She doesn’t move, but I see in her eyes that I’ve called her bluff, and she’s backing down. I smirk, then grab my tray and leave them there like that. Trevor calls after me to come back, but I ignore him and keep walking. And you know what? It feels good. Maybe I’ve fucked up a lot since I’ve been here. I’ve done things that have hurt people to protect myself. I’ve had my dignity and self-worth slowly and maliciously stripped from every fiber of my being. I lost my only friend in the most permanent way, broke the only person I’ve ever loved, and since then, I’ve just been hiding behind these people who don’t even know me, faking it while the vice-grip of regret crushes my insides, and it’s eaten away at me until there’s barely anything left.
So, the least I can do is leave with a shred of dignity. Maybe it will help me when I try to start over again—to have one less reason to look at the girl in the mirror and feel shame.
At least, that’s what I try to tell myself before an arm reaches out and knocks the tray out of my hands, causing milk and mashed potatoes to run down my shirt and onto my shoes.
The eerie silence that falls over the cafeteria tells me precisely who did it. I don’t even need to look. I can feel him there just like I always could.
“Watch where you’re going, bitch,” Devon says.
A few people erupt in laughter—Audrey’s, of course, being the loudest—but most of them are quiet, watching and waiting.
I turn to face this new version of Devon—the broken one—and try to muster up the same fucking audacity I had just minutes ago but come up empty-handed. I look at his hands resting in his lap, and I just miss them. I’d do almost anything to go back in time and crawl back into that bed…just to feel them run through my hair again, even if it meant he’d still cut it all off afterward.
When I finally look up and meet his icy glare, all I can manage is, “Yeah. Next time, I’ll be more careful.”
My eyes fill with tears, and I watch the smirk fall from his face before he quickly replaces it with rage. I ditch my tray and head for the bathroom to try and clean myself up. I take a wet paper towel and do my best to wipe the mashed potatoes from the front of me, but it doesn’t look much better when I’m done. All I’ve managed to do is soak the damn shirt. I scoff, shake my head, and throw thesoiled paper towels in the trash. I decide to go to the locker room and change into my gym clothes. I’m about to do just that when I realize I’m no longer alone.
“Devon, what do you want from me?” I ask without looking up. “Whatever you want, you can have it; I’ll do it. Do you want me to tell everyone that I lied about us? I will.”
“You don’t get to do this,” he seethes from the doorway. “You don’t get to act likeyou’rethe victim.”
“That’s not what I’m doing.”
“I don’t care if you tell people you lied about us or not. I don’t care what they think. I want you to tell me the truth—I want to know what the fuck happened to Darci in that woods; I want to know what you two were up to and why you did this to me!”
“Devon…I don’t know what you’re—”
He crosses the room in three strides, grabbing me by the front of my shirt and slamming my body against the mirror behind me.
“Stop lying! God, would you just fucking stop?!”
“I don’t know what you want! I never lied to you! I don’t know what happened to Darci! You’re the one who was sleeping with her; why don’t you tell me?”
“God damn it, I wasn’t—” he starts. “You two played me. And whatever you were involved in,that’swhat got Darci killed. And that’s what I want. I want to put you in jail.”
“Devon, no. Devon, look at me.” I reach for him, but he quickly shrugs me off.
“I’mnot falling for it,” he says. “God, you must think I’m an idiot.”
“No,” I tell him, shaking my head. “I think you’re hurt. I know I did that, but…the stuff you’re saying…it doesn’t make any sense.”
He punches the mirror next to my head, and glass shatters around me. Another girl almost steps inside but quickly backtracks after surveying the scene, and Devon takes that as his cue to leave.
“We’re not done,” he says. “You know what happened in the woods that night. Maybe it even has something to do with that creepy drawing you made on my back.”
“You thought my drawing was creepy?” I ask. I feel my lower lip start to quiver.
“Fuck yeah, it was creepy,” he says. “Everything about you is fucking creepy.”
“Well, you won’t have to worry about me for long,” I shout at his back. “I’ll be out of your way soon.”
He doesn’t reply or even turn back to look at me.
I shift on my feet, hearing the sound of glass crunching between my Vans and the tile floor. I look at the broken mirror and the shards in the sink, and reality comes crashing down around me. I flee the bathroom before someone catches me in this mess and go through the motions for another day. One more day of this shit. One more weekend of hell.
And then I’ll be free…of everything but myself.
After volleyball practice, I take the things I care about from my locker—artwork, the makeup Laurel gave me, and a small tin container with the notes Devon used to slip inside—and stuff it into my duffle bag. I whisper goodbye to the things I’m leaving behind and the person I used to be here.
