First & Then(53)

“Let’s just pretend none of it happened,” I said shortly. “Press reset or something.”

“Reset?”

“Yeah. Wipe the board clean. Move the chains back. Whatever.”

“How far?”

“What?”

“How far do we move the chains back?”

“I don’t know, Ezra, how about far enough that you can go back to acting like you don’t know who I am when I see you in public, will that make you feel better?”

Surprise flashed across Ezra’s face. “I don’t … that’s not…” But he didn’t finish. He just looked to the duffel bag, and the duffel bag sparkled aggressively back at him. “What about Homecoming?” he said, finally. “Do you still…”

Oh yeah. A whole night of stony silence with Ezra was just what the doctor ordered. “No,” I said, and maybe it was harsh, maybe I sucked in that moment, but I was irritated and … residually embarrassed, and I couldn’t stand the idea of this awkwardness permeating an entire evening.

Ezra just nodded. No protest there. He was probably relieved.

I crossed over to my locker, opened the door, pulled my gym bag out, and started rifling through it, signaling the end of the conversation. Dismissing Ezra. He stood there for a moment longer, and maybe he would’ve said something if I had turned back around. But I didn’t, and he didn’t. He just left.

I sank down onto the nearest bench. My face still hurt, but there was some other hurt now, too—that shitty feeling of having broken something between us. I felt it fresh.

I hated gym class. I stewed in that at lunchtime.

“So then Jenna said ‘carbon,’ and I said, ‘magnesium,’ and we were all, like, wow, you’re not even listening.” Cas stared at me from across the table, two red trays and a whole host of greasy food between us. “Are you okay?”

“What?”

He waved a chicken nugget in front of my eyes. “You seem kind of out of it.”

“I’m fine.”

We hadn’t talked much since the Homecoming incident. Whenever we had disagreed over something in the past, the protocol was to act like there was no conflict and everything was fine, and in that way, everything would be fine. It usually worked, but today was different.

“Look, Dev, about the Homecoming thing … if you want to go with Ezra, then that’s cool.”

This was the last thing I wanted to hear at that moment, since I had just effectively crushed the notion of Ezra and me going together. All I could do was snap: “I’m so glad I’ve got your permission.”

“I’m just saying, I’m cool with it.”

“I don’t care if you’re cool with it or not.”

He frowned. “Why are you being weird?”

“I don’t know.” I threw my sandwich down. “I don’t know. I just … I don’t care about Homecoming.” I pushed back from the table. “Excuse me.” I grabbed my tray, dumped it in the trash, and took off.





28


I went to the grocery store that evening to pick up a couple of things for my mom and to get some of my own shopping done, too. Embarrassing things, like panty liners and dandruff shampoo, that you really only want to buy when you’re by yourself.

The “feminine products” aisle always weirded me out, because inevitably the store paired pads and tampons with diapers, baby food, and condoms. Like everything pertaining to the uterus should be stored in the same aisle.

It was empty when I approached. I grabbed an embarrassingly large package of pads and began to make my escape. Until,

“Champ?”

I froze, there in the middle of the aisle.

Hastily I grabbed the first thing from the shelf I could to hide the pads and wheeled around to face Jordan, shifting the basket behind me. It banged against the backs of my thighs as I took a few steps to distance myself from the brightly colored packages. I knew it was foolish. Like, I’m guessing Jordan was not entirely unfamiliar with the existence of periods. But if I didn’t want to buy that shit at the store with my mom, I certainly didn’t want Jordan Hunter there for it.

But Jordan just gave me an easy smile. “Hey, Champ.” He looked entirely unconcerned at meeting me here.

“Hi.” It came out as a squeak. I cleared my throat. “How’s it going?”

“Not too bad. Just picking up a couple of things for the fam.” He indicated a sticky note pressed to the handle of the cart, clearly a shopping list. I took a quick glance at the contents of the cart: some boxes of cornflakes, a carton of milk, a dozen eggs. Standard fare, except for the little black rectangular box resting atop a package of spaghetti. I knew what they were, and I knew at once why he was in the aisle.

Jordan noticed me looking and cupped a hand around his mouth and said in a loud whisper, “Those aren’t for the fam.”

“Adding rogue items?”

“I’m a free agent,” Jordan said with a smile.

Proud of myself for producing successful banter, I glanced down at my own basket and realized what it was I had grabbed to obscure the pads. I nearly choked. Adult diapers.

I tried, if possible, to force the basket even farther out of sight. Jordan hadn’t seemed to notice.