Tease(60)

“Okay.”

“Okay. And . . .” I pause. What else do I say? “And I want to make it up to you. I want to . . . um, we could have coffee? Again? Or I could—” Someone else bumps into my shoulder and this time I’m pretty sure it was on purpose. I step a little closer to the wall, trying to shield myself, but stay close enough to Carmichael that he knows I’m trying, close enough that he doesn’t turn and walk away.

“Look, Sara, it’s no big deal. You needed a ride. I don’t need any coffee.” And then he does start to leave and I reach out, grabbing his wrist, the one with the tattoo.

“Please,” I say. I sound pathetic but I can’t stop. “I don’t have anyone else. I didn’t mean to be mean, I just—I’m just scared—”

He gently twists his arm so my hand falls away. “I know,” he says. “But I’m not here to make you feel better about everything. I have my own problems.”

I look up into his eyes and I just want to die. Of course he has his own problems, I know that. Don’t I? I mean, no one’s problems are as bad as mine . . . or maybe they are.

He waits for another minute, but I can’t think of anything to say. I don’t even know what I’m asking him for, really, except to not leave me alone, not to abandon me when I’m already so lonely.

“I gotta go,” he says, and then he’s walking away. And I was wrong—he wasn’t on his way to class. He’s walking out the door.

The last bell rings and I’m still standing in the hallway, watching Carmichael’s back getting smaller through the glass doors of the school, turning the corner outside towards the bike racks. I don’t know where he’s going. I don’t know him very well at all. And I need him so much. But he doesn’t need me.

I have to run to Mr. Bastow’s room, sliding into my seat just before the bell, but once I’m in it I can’t get a deep breath. I don’t know how much longer I can live like this, never being able to relax or breathe or feel okay at all.

“Took them long enough,” I hear Estrella Santos saying.

She’s talking to Chris Black, but for some reason I think it’s about me.

“Everyone knew he didn’t do anything,” Chris says. “They just messed up his whole life for no reason.”

“He’s going to the U in the spring, I heard,” Estrella says, and that’s when I know—Dylan. They heard about Dylan.

“Yeah, but baseball . . .” Chris shakes his head. “The whole thing was stupid. I mean, she was his girlfriend.”

“I know. He must be so sad.” Estrella shakes her head too, her ponytail swishing and bouncing.

I sink a little farther into my seat.

“He was always so sweet. He wasn’t like them,” Estrella adds. She glances over her shoulder and I look down. My hands are wrapped around my stomach, trying to hold it in. I think of the breakfast I forgot in the car, still in its foil wrapper, probably melting on the dashboard right now. I don’t even have anything to throw up.

Finally Mr. Bastow comes through the door in a rush of polyester and papers and “Calm down, everyone.” But I don’t look up again. Maybe if I just don’t move, I can finally just disappear completely.





March


“YOU LOOK HOT, okay? Jesus, Sara, I tell you this every time we go out! Would you stop? Just—oh my God, stop doing that!”

“What?” I drop my hair, which I’ve been trying to pull into a messy knot on my head, and look at Brielle. She’s driving, eyes on the dark road ahead, and waving her right hand frantically in my face. I bat it away, yelling, “What? What?”

“That!” she yells back. “That updo business! You always try that and it’s always a disaster!”

In the back seat, Noelle laughs, and I can’t keep the whiny, defensive tone out of my voice when I say, “I don’t always try it. I was just—I just wanted to pull it back for a minute, I—”

“Ugh, hopeless,” Brielle insists. She’s teasing me, I know, but she’s also showing off in front of Noelle, pointing out how lame I am. But I can’t help it—I’m crazy nervous. Every time I know I’m going to see Dylan, especially if Emma’s going to be there, I get nervous. Going to school is like getting up on stage—I want him to see me, but my hands are sweaty and my mouth is dry and it’s just scary. I don’t know. Sometimes yelling at him or Emma, like at McDonald’s, makes me feel better. But then by the time I see him again I’m like this—a walking ball of panic.

Brielle used to understand, I think, but now she’s over it. She and Noelle are talking about the weed that Jacob, or Jacob’s cousin or something, is supposed to have tonight. Brielle’s always wanted me to smoke with her, but I never have. So now I’m feeling nervous and totally third wheel. Perfect.

Jacob lives in an older part of town, where the houses aren’t fancy but the trees are tall. We have to park on the street but it seems to be like Jacob said—just a few people—and immediately I notice Dylan’s SUV. And then as soon as we walk inside, he’s the first thing I see. I haven’t been here before, and you’d think I’d be distracted by the oversize photos of Jacob and his sister over the fireplace—really embarrassing posed shots from a cheesy portrait studio, taken a few years ago when Jacob had total Bieber hair—but all I see is Dylan, sitting on the couch, talking to Kyle, drinking a beer.