The Romantics(6)
It was one of the many reasons Gael had fallen for her. Why he felt that their love was actually real. He and Anika had been a legit band couple, sure, but they weren’t the same as those greasy PDA-mongers in front of their instrument lockers before practice. Their relationship was classy, like a Wes Anderson movie, or a Mumford & Sons song, the kind of love you couldn’t scoff at. The kind of love he never imagined could go away.
And now apparently it already had.
(I can’t help but interject here. Everyone thinks their romance is classy AF. No one sits there comparing their coupledom to the stuff of Lifetime movies. And no one thinks it will go away because, if you did, you’d never take a chance. Luckily, the human heart is not that logical.)
Gael walked over to where his sax was stored. Nearby, Amberleigh made a sad face, looking at him with her bottom lip puffed out.
“Have you seen Mason?” he asked.
Amberleigh shook her head, and he turned away before she could deliver any more pity. Practice didn’t officially start until 3:30. Most kids used the fifteen minutes beforehand to talk with friends, but sometimes, Gael and Anika had gone to her car and held hands across the bucket seats, his thumb circling hers in a kind of dance that was more erotic than the crap Mason watched on his laptop. They’d blast classic rock, lean the seats way back, and just look at each other . . .
The vision disappeared instantly as Anika and Mason walked into the band room together, hand in freaking hand.
Their faces looked surprised, and for a second, Gael thought they’d turn away, but Anika seemed determined not to avoid him. She let go of Mason’s hand and plastered on the stupidest, fakest smile. Mason trailed behind her.
“Uhh, hey,” she said. “I didn’t see you in English.”
“Hey?” Gael asked. “All you have to say is ‘hey’?”
Anika bit her lip. “I guess this is a little awkward. I know you want to talk. I just wanted to wait until you’d calmed down . . .”
“And you think I’m calm now?” Gael yelled. The band room was almost full, though Mr. Potter hadn’t arrived. Everyone was staring, but Gael didn’t care. He turned to Anika. “You cheated on me with my best friend.”
Anika’s eyes got watery. She looked at Mason, but his eyes shifted quickly around the room, then down to his oversized feet, avoiding both of them.
That didn’t stop Gael from saying what he had to. He turned to Mason. “And you just abandoned the entire bro code for a hook up? You could have any girl you wanted! Why did it have to be my girlfriend?”
Mason sighed but didn’t look up to face him.
Anika dabbed at the corner of her eye but at least had the decency to look at him. She sniffled. “We just want you to know that your friendship is really important to us, Gael.”
Us.
Us?
Us!!?&!!?@%!!?
Gael’s hands drew into fists at his sides, and his stomach clenched. Being cheated on was bad enough, but the two of them didn’t even show an ounce of genuine remorse.
Then, before he realized what he was doing, Gael punched his former best friend with all his might—straight in his stupid face, the one girls always seemed to find so endearing. Mason fell back into a mishmash of music stands, breaking his fall, clanking dramatically as they fell to the ground.
Gael’s eyes were on the verge of tears, his body hot, his head throbbing. He vaguely sensed lots of yelling and people rushing around him, but he could hardly tell what was going on.
Gael ran, and he didn’t stop until he was out of the band room, in the daylight, and far enough from school so no one could see.
His breathing got heavy as awful visions filled his head—Mason holding Anika’s hand, kissing her lips, hugging her, undressing her, laughing with her, smiling with her, having everything with her that Gael would never, ever have again.
throwback to the best day of gael’s life
For Gael, it hadn’t been hard to choose the day to Beat All Days.
It had been one of those weirdly cool afternoons in August, the last Saturday before the start of senior year. Nothing to do but waste time and luxuriate in the final weekend of summer.
Since June, he and the usual suspects had spent most Saturdays at Jenna Carey’s. Jenna was Anika’s longtime BFF, and she had a pool. But this Saturday, it had been too cold for swimming. Gael thought about that sometimes, how if it had been ninety degrees, they’d have gone to Jenna’s pool, and maybe he and Anika never would have become he and Anika.
They didn’t go to Jenna’s that day—instead, everyone walked down Franklin Street to load up on donuts at Krispy Kreme.
Franklin was a mishmash of bookstores, yummy food (late night and otherwise), and shops hawking everything from thrifty hipster wares to UNC gear to preppy woven belts that the frat boys always wore. Historic buildings and brick sidewalks gave it that throwback downtown feel, while music joints, tattoo shops, and seedy bars reminded you that it was, indeed, a college drag.
They parked themselves on the steps of the Chapel Hill post office, which offered a perfect view of the UNC campus, with its columned brick buildings, sweeping lawns, and masses of trees whose leaves had yet to turn. It was the kind of campus you saw in TV shows about college, the kind that made you want to wear a sweatshirt with felt letters.
When they were done with their donuts and had gotten most of the flaky sugar off their lips, Anika asked if anyone wanted to go to the “Life of a Star” show at the Morehead Planetarium, which was just across the street.