Liars and Losers Like Us(64)

Jane says, “Cool, I’ll call you tonight so we can go over other stuff.” She touches my shoulder and smiles, “Sorry about nudging you. It really was an accident.” There’s an actual sincerity on her face that I want to smack off. “Later guys.” She turns and heads the other way.

The pace of my walk triples, but Sean keeps up. “Yeah, the parking lot is fine.”

My eyes glaze over. I walk with steady long steps, eyes straight ahead. “Actually that’s okay. I, um … I thought I had your sweatshirt in my car, that’s all. But I just realized I don’t. I don’t have it. I’m sorry.”

“All right, well if you still––”

And once again I’m running. Running away from Sean. Pushing through bodies, backpacks, armies of friends, lovers, frenemies, planning tonight, planning tomorrow, laughing, hopes high, shoulder to shoulder. I keep running even though everything gets more and more blurry. I just need to make it to my car.

C’mon Bree, keep it together, don’t cry don’t cry don’t cry.

I can’t let anyone see me like this. Before I get to the front doors, Jane and Laura are coming from the opposite way. Kallie, Todd, Molly, and Justin are right in front of me. I hold my folder and notebook up like a face shield. A single tear falls. A thin straight line down my cheek. I make a sharp right turn into the girl’s bathroom.

Opening the door of the last stall, I heave a breath of the air that’s been trapped in my lungs. Sitting down on the edge of the toilet seat, my tears burn trails down my face. I wrap my hands in toilet paper and bury my face into them, convulsing into sobs.

Who was I to think he would wait? After coming by the house at least five times, numerous unanswered calls, and voicemails I haven’t even heard. Kallie was right. If I wait too long, I’m going to lose him. Apparently time is of the essence when Prom’s one week away and Jane is waiting in the wings. My whole body shakes, feeling lighter and lighter as I sob the last of my tears. I just want to go home.

Before I leave the bathroom, I check the mirror. Even my eyebrows and the divot above my lip are red and puffy like my eyes. I grab my sunglasses from my bag and as I’m wiping the lenses with my T-shirt another glimpse of myself in the mirror taunts me. Something feels familiar.

Maisey. Her face practically stares back at me in the mirror. She’s just like when I saw her in this same spot two months ago. Crying, wiping her eyes. Pitiful, humiliated, lonely, defeated. Like me.

****

The parking lot is nearly emptied. Brian is leaning against his car, parked right next to mine.

“Hey Brian, what’s up?” I ask, adding a fake dash of pep to my voice.

“Geez, what took you so long? I was beginning to think you were kidnapped by Janitor Bob.”

I adjust my sunglasses. “I wish. Were you waiting to talk about Prom?”

“Yeah. No offense, but this is exasperating. Everyone’s turned Prom into a joke. As immature as it is, Prom King is a nice title to have. I’m a writer and it’d be kind of quirky to have “Former Prom King” as part of my bio. But the vote usually goes to a couple. A stable, beloved, amiable couple. We’ll never win. Not that anyone else has a chance either, with everyone cheating and sleeping with each other. It’s like a bad episode of … something. Help me out here. I don’t watch TV.”

“Anything on Wednesday nights. Yeah, I thought the same thing. Sorry you got stuck with me,” I shrug. “We can still have fun though.”

Brian raises an eyebrow.

“But I mean, if you don’t want to, we don’t have to go together. If you have someone else in mind.” I tap the dirt off the foot of my Converse.

“Like Molly or Jane? Or my boyfriend who says he wouldn’t be caught dead at a high school Prom?”

“Ouch. Sorry.”

“It doesn’t matter. I’m not even out yet to my parents. Oh well, at least you’re on the Court. That means something. You’ll have to be my date because I don’t have a choice.”

I stare at him for a second and then click my car door unlocked. “But you know what Brian? I do have a choice. You’ll have to figure something out. I’m going alone.” I jump into my car and slam the door. As I drive away, Brian throws down his backpack and kicks his car. Brian Wang, Class Valedictorian, Homecoming King, Class President, Most Likely to Succeed at Everything. Last week he was getting drunk, this week he’s throwing a temper tantrum. I turn up the radio and laugh for the first time since last week.

****

When I get home, something crinkles in the pocket of my jeans. Sean’s note. From yesterday. Instead of ignoring it, like I’ve been doing all week, I open it.

Bree,

I’ve figured out some lyrics for that song I’d been working on. It’s a work in progress but I hope you’ll let me know what you think: You’re not answering the door

The phone

Of course not the texts

I don’t want to keep waiting to apologize For something that was nothing

Compared to you

For something that was only

there

before there was you

For something that

(I admit) you might’ve wanted to know Something that could’ve changed our course Changed where we went and how you felt If that’s the case, then I’m not sorry If that’s the case, I’ll take what I can get The long conversations