his inspection of the floor long enough to briefl y meet my eyes.
When he did, I thought of all the stuff he’d said at the movies. I thought about what I’d realized afterward.
My heart started thumping fast, beating so hard I could feel it. My locker looked like it was really far away even though I had one hand resting on it, and I knew I had to leave school. I wasn’t ready for it. I had to get away, go somewhere and just . . . shut off my brain or something. I could go home, lie in bed with the covers pulled up over my head.
I could go home and scrounge up some money, then go out and find something to drink. I knew all the places Julia went to get stuff for me. I could do it on my own.
After all, hadn’t I made it so that’s how things had to be?
I shut my locker, slamming it closed with one fi st, and headed toward the exit at the end of the hall. Giggles was standing there, mouth puckered like she’d had two lemons shoved in it, nodding at something a teacher was saying and glaring at anyone who tried to get near the door. I turned back around and ducked into the bathroom, fi guring Giggles would toddle off when the bell rang. Once the bell rang I could leave.
Once the bell rang I had to leave.
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I passed Mel again on my way to the bathroom. He said something to me. I nodded like I’d heard him. I didn’t, though. The only thing I wanted to hear was the bell.
The bathroom was empty. Giggles must have passed through earlier and cleared everyone out. I tapped a fist —I couldn’t seem to unknot my fi ngers—against the paper towel dispenser and hoped the bell would ring soon. The door slammed open and Caro came in. She looked like she was trying to look bored, but instead she just looked upset.
“Mel asked me to come in here to see if you were okay.”
I ignored her.
“Fine, I’m going. I’m sure he’ll be in here in thirty seconds anyway. And just so you know, ignoring him apologizing for Friday to make him feel bad isn’t going to make him like you or anything. He’s just being nice because he’s, well, Mel. Everyone else knows exactly who—and what—you are.”
I looked at her. She should have looked angry. What she said sure was angry. And she did look a little pissed off. Mostly, though, she looked anxious.
She was glancing around like Beth might be lurking in the corner, waiting to get mad because what she’d just 115
said hadn’t been preapproved. It was so stupid. She was so stupid. She was afraid to be angry without Beth’s permission.
I walked over to her and watched her look around anxiously again. Such a stupid sheep. “He doesn’t like me, you moron. He likes you, and if you’d get your head out of your ass for five seconds you’d realize that, and then the two of you could stop acting like you’re in some crap romantic comedy where you have to argue before you get together and just do it already.”
Her mouth fell open, and her eyes got all watery, but she didn’t say a word. I pushed past her, the damn bell finally ringing as I headed into the hall and then out of school.
I couldn’t believe what I’d just said. I never said stuff like that. Julia said stuff like that, and I wished I could.
It didn’t feel as great as I thought it would, but at least I wasn’t going to have to deal with anyone for a while.
A while turned out to be maybe two minutes. I didn’t even make it off the school grounds. I didn’t even make it to the stupid planters by the parking lot before Caro grabbed my arm—hard—and yanked me around to face her.
“I really hate you,” she said, or at least I think she did.
It was hard to tell because she was crying.
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I pulled away from her and kept walking, crossing the parking lot and fi nally leaving school. Corn Syrup’s feelings were hurt? Boo-hoo. I was so going to go home, fi nd some money, and then find a drink. Or many drinks.
The weird thing was, I kept hearing her cry. Even when I was cutting through the neighborhood that’s full of old people and little yappy dogs, I could still hear her.
I turned around after I passed an old guy who almost backed into me with his big-ass car, and she was walking behind me, still crying. I stopped walking. She did too. We just sort of stared at each other, and I guess the look on my face must have been something because she stopped crying long enough to say, “Look, I don’t know what I’m doing here, okay?”
She sounded so miserable, so lost, that all the stuff about Julia and everything else that was clawing inside me, scratching me raw and making me desperate for a drink—it stilled. Because what she said and how she said it . . . it was how I felt too. How I always feel.
I don’t know why I’m here either, except that it’s what I deserve and that—I know it’s right, but I’m so lost without Julia. So lonely.
I guess maybe that’s why I ended up going to Caro’s house. She didn’t ask me, exactly, just said, “I’m going home. If you want to . . .”
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We walked there in silence. I remembered her living all the way at the edge of town but apparently she moved
