Tell Me Three Things(46)
I wonder where he’s going and whether he’ll be back in time for English. I hope so. We don’t talk to each other much in school, but I like knowing he’s behind me, that I could turn around and smile if I had the nerve. Not that I’ve ever actually had the nerve.
Crap. He catches me watching him. I hope I’m far enough away that he can’t see the goofy grin. He throws me a fast peace sign before beeping his way into his car.
“Now, Ethan Marks, on the other hand,” I say, finally confessing my crush to my friends. I’ve told Scarlett, of course, but she hasn’t gone to school with him since kindergarten, so it didn’t really count.
Should I have peace-signed Ethan back? No, I can’t pull off a peace sign. It’s a lot like “cool beans.”
“Really? You like Ethan! We used to be friends back in junior high,” Dri squeals, and sits up to grab my hands, all girlie enthusiasm. Or maybe she’s just relieved that I don’t want Liam. She cocks her head, reconsidering. “Though, let’s be honest: he’s not the most original choice. And—”
“And he’s kind of damaged,” Agnes says.
“And he’s never dated anyone at school. Never. Ever,” Dri says, and my heart sinks a little. Not that I thought I had a chance, but still. Now it feels like a technical impossibility.
“But he’s totally a panty dropper,” Agnes says. “No doubt about that.”
SN: three things. (1) when I read your messages, I hear them in your voice. (2) if I were an animal, I’d be a lemur. okay, that’s probably not true, but I felt like using the word “lemur” today. and before you say it…yes, I know I’m weird. (3) seriously? I’d like to be a chameleon. change my colors to match my environment.
Me: (1) I’ve watched Footloose (the remake, not the original) an embarrassing number of times. But it’s so moving. A LAW AGAINST DANCING. And they fight and win. Swoon. (2) I could be a better driver. The whole turn left when the light turns red thing here freaks me out. (3) Just so you know, I take back coffee.
SN: okay, no sugar for you.
Me: What?
SN: a joke. a Seinfeld reference.
Me: It’s not funny.
SN: it’s just coffee. relax.
Me: Fine.
SN: sorry, forgot how mad you get when I tell you to relax.
Me: I don’t get mad.
SN: you’re mad right now. I can hear it in your virtual voice.
Me: When you tell someone to relax, it suggests that you think they are overly uptight. I’m not being overly uptight.
SN: wow. that’s putting a lot of pressure on my “relax.” I just meant chill. or no biggie. you forget I’m from Cali. we say shit like that here.
Me: Namaste.
SN: ah, now you’re getting the hang of it. now stop writing me and get to class. you’re going to be late.
“Slut,” Gem fake-sneezes as I make my way into English. SN is right, I’m late, and now everyone is here, laptops already open, watching me get serenaded with profanity and germs as I walk to my seat.
“Whore,” she sneezes again, though not sure why she needs the elaborate cover-up. We can all hear her, even, I’m sure, Mrs. Pollack. “Fat ugly bitch.”
Just pretend you’re wearing Theo’s noise-canceling headphones. That you don’t see Crystal or Dri or even Theo watching. No, do not look up, do not see that Ethan is here too, back from wherever he went, his eyes following you, blazing with what looks like pity.
Nothing worse than pity.
Almost there. Just need to pass Gem. I can do this.
But I can’t. Because next thing I know, my nose hits the desk with a loud crack, and I’m splayed on the floor: a belly flop on the linoleum. My head now an inch from Ethan’s Converse.
“Are you okay?” he asks. I don’t answer, because I don’t know. I am on the ground, my face aches, so much worse than when Liam hit me with his guitar case, and the whole class is looking at me. Gem and Crystal are openly laughing—cackling like Disney witches—and I’m too afraid to stand up. I can’t tell if my nose is bleeding, if right now I am lying in a pool of my own blood at Ethan’s feet. I do know that my ass is spread across the floor like a smear of butter, at an angle no one should ever be exposed to, especially someone like Ethan.
Thank God it hurts. It helps keep me from feeling the humiliation.
Gem stuck out her foot. Of course she did. I’m so stupid, I deserve to be here smelling the floor.
Ethan squats down, holds out his hand to help me up. I take a deep breath. The quicker I get up, the quicker this will all be over. I ignore Ethan’s hand—I can think of nothing worse than wiping my blood on him, nothing worse than this being the very first time we touch—and so I steady myself with the reliable floor. Slowly make my way to sitting, then to standing, and like the fatuglybitch I am, I shift my bulk into my seat. Nothing graceful about it.
“Am I bleeding?” I whisper to Dri. She shakes her head, the shocked look on her face telling me that what just happened is as bad, as embarrassing as I imagine. No. Even worse.
“Do you need to go to the nurse?” Mrs. Pollack asks, almost in a whisper, as if she doesn’t want to attract any extra attention to me.
“No,” I say, even though I’d give anything for an ice pack and an Advil. I just can’t imagine standing up again, walking past Gem and then down the hall. Hearing the laughter at my back as soon as the door to the classroom closes. No thank you.