Tease(78)

He stares at the water, then up at the sky, my hand still in his hands.

“Does that make sense?” he asks, almost a whisper.

I don’t say anything for a second, a minute, a year.

“Yeah,” I say. “It does.”





March


“YO, IT’S D, do that thing.”

“Hey, Dylan, it’s me—it’s Sara. Sorry, I sent you a couple texts, I was just wondering . . . Um, you must be busy, but if you get a sec, can you call me back? Thanks. Uh, okay. Bye.”

I hit the End button and sit back on the kitchen stool, staring at my phone. Dylan wasn’t at his house. He hasn’t answered my texts. He’s not answering his cell.

The pit of dread in my stomach just gets bigger and bigger. It’s the Grand Canyon right now. Things are not good.

I wander around the house, wishing I could drive Tommy and Alex somewhere. Or fight with my mom. Anything to get my mind off of this—this whole stupid weekend. Where is Dylan? Is he breaking up with Emma? Does he know about Tyler?

I start to send a text to Brielle, then stop. I walk toward the door, reaching for my car keys, then stop again.

I go upstairs. I open my laptop. Without even a pause, I open up Emma Putnam’s Facebook page and post a new comment.

Why are you such a slut?

Then I go to Tyler’s wall.

Enjoy that herpes you got last night.

The knot in my stomach tightens, but it feels better, too. It feels like I’m doing something.

Back to Emma’s page.

So, let me get this straight: You steal my boyfriend and then CHEAT on him? Nice.

I click on the Post button and wait a second, then add:

What’s it like being a skank?

Suddenly another post pops up, not from me. From Brielle!

I hear the weather’s nice in slutsville this time of year.

I laugh out loud, sitting alone in my room. I click in the comment box below Brielle’s post and write: Warm with a chance of STDs.

Then there’s a post from Noelle: Who farted? Oh, that’s just Emma. Someone has tagged Emma’s name.

Then Kyle is there, too. Thanks for banging all my friends, he writes, and then, Gotta go take another shower.

The four of them keep writing, trying to top one another. Brielle posts on Tyler’s wall too. She opens up a chat window with me separately, but we mostly use it for saying HAHAHAHA.

I look at the corner of my screen and see that an hour has gone by, but it feels like no time at all. With a jolt I realize that Dylan still hasn’t called me back. I guess he’s probably not going to . . . I mean, I promised to be nice to Emma. Didn’t I? I don’t even remember. I don’t even care. Fine, let him be with that loser. Screw them both. I’m the one with friends—he and Tyler can just fight over who gets to be with the girl that everyone hates. The girl that’s definitely going to transfer schools now—I mean, how’s she gonna come back to Elmwood after this?

That gives me an idea, and I post one last comment to her page.

You’re gonna have to move to Canada now. You’ve slept with everyone in the U.S.

I can’t quite bring myself to type the F word, but I think this makes my point anyway.

Downstairs I hear the garage door opening, so I sign off with Brielle and close my computer. I go downstairs, feeling light and relaxed. I’m okay now. If I can just not think about Dylan, I might be okay for a little while.

He doesn’t text. He doesn’t call. On Monday I forget my shyness around the guys and walk right up to Jacob, blurting out, “Where’s Dylan? Have you seen him?”

Jacob does this big flinch, like I’m acting crazy, but he goes, “No, man, I heard he called in sick.”

Kyle has just walked up to Jacob’s locker too, and he laughs loudly. “Yeah, he’s sick, all right.”

“Sick of dealing with Emma’s bullshit,” I say, and both guys look at me, surprised.

“Uh, yeah,” Jacob says.

“Is Tyler here?” I ask, and now they look less surprised, and more like they don’t understand why I’m still bothering them.

“Yeah, I guess,” Kyle says.

Jacob slams his locker and shrugs at me. “See you,” he says, and he and Kyle walk away.

I scan the hallway and find Brielle. With Noelle, of course, but at least Noelle gives me a little wave as I make my way over to them.

“What up,” she says, but it’s not really a question.

I turn to Brielle and say, “Did you hear Dylan stayed home sick today?”

She snorts, like I knew she would, and goes, “God, are we still talking about that douche? Seriously, Sara, you need to move on.”

Noelle nods knowingly. I start to say something, even though I have no idea what to say, but then Alison Stipe walks up and goes, “You guys, that stuff this weekend was hilars. Stupid Emma.”

“Yeah, whatever, we were just killing time,” Brielle says, sounding like she couldn’t care less either way.

“I heard she’s gonna transfer to Central,” Alison says.

“You did?” I ask, surprised Brielle didn’t already hear this.

“Well, I mean, she should,” Noelle says. “Right? Who the hell wants her here?”

“Tyler, I guess,” Alison says, but Brielle and Noelle both laugh at this so loudly that she looks embarrassed, like she wishes she hadn’t said anything.