I rush to pack up my things because Hunter is moving quickly, and I almost wonder if he’s trying to ditch me. An icy feeling creeps into my stomach as I follow him out of the classroom, and practically sprint to keep up with him.
“Hunter,” I say, hoping I don’t sound desperate, or out of breath for that matter. “What’s going on?”
He doesn’t answer. This is not fair. It’s like this sudden wave of anger comes over me, pushing out the fear for a minute, and as we come into the parking lot, I grab his arm.
“Hunter! What is your problem?”
He flings his arm up, knocking my hand off of him, and turns to me. His brown eyes are practically black, and his mouth is set in a thin line. I have no idea who this person is in front of me right now.
“My problem,” he says through clenched teeth, “is that I can’t deal with you clinging on me. Didn’t Kim talk to you?”
For a moment I’m weirdly relieved that he’s talking to me and that maybe now that I know what’s wrong, we can—wait. Clinging on him? Kim?
“When did I ever cling on you? I just asked what—”
“I can’t do this,” he says, and opens his car door.
My stomach is churning at this point. “Can’t do what?”
“This,” he says, gesturing between us. “I can’t be with you anymore.”
“Where is this coming from?” I ask, feeling faint. It’s as if he’s pulled a pin from somewhere inside me with those words, and all my energy is draining out.
“It’s been coming for a while,” he says, and gets into the car. He goes to slam the door, but I grab it.
“Why are you doing this? Is this about yesterday? You said we were okay.”
Hunter has one hand on the car door and the other on the steering wheel. He’s staring straight ahead, but then he turns his head toward me and his eyes are so cold that I know I don’t want to hear what’s going to come out of his mouth next. But he says it anyway.
“I don’t love you, Ellie.”
I feel so weak and dizzy, it’s like my soul is being sucked out of me, and I can’t even respond. I’m honestly afraid I’m going to throw up. My hands slide off his car door, and Hunter takes that opportunity to slam it shut. He then quickly starts the car, backs out of the space, and drives away, his eyes on the road the whole time.
And I just watch him go.
CHAPTER 3
“I’m going to cut his nuts off!”
This is Jodie’s solution to my world falling apart. And it would totally make me laugh if I wasn’t completely devastated and sobbing hysterically in my place of employment.
“And then I’m going to hurl him into a fiery pit of lava,” Jodie says, stroking my hair as I snuffle. “And then I’ll make sure the Ringtones don’t do some cheesy memorial concert for him.”
The sight of Jodie in our old St. Catherine’s uniform, a green-and-blue plaid skirt and white polo shirt, with her signature red USC hoodie should be comforting to me. And it is. But it also makes me feel even more sad that I won’t have her with me to face the awfulness tomorrow. I mean, it’s a pretty safe bet that all of my RHHS “friends” are going to be taking Hunter’s side, sending me back to being alone again.
“I’ll pray for a volcano to pop up somewhere in the tristate area just to see that happen,” my manager Richard says. For someone who’s had to deal with his employee being a bawling mess for the last two hours, he’s handling this surprisingly well.
Even though coming to Cityscape Shoes was the last thing I wanted to do after being dumped, I figured it was probably better than going home, where I’d have to admit to my parents that yes, Hunter was indeed aloof and therefore a bad boyfriend. A bad ex-boyfriend. But the store’s halfway-between-our-houses location meant Jodie, who cut her Chinese class when she got my breakdown via text message, could stop in and see me. The fact that she’s so completely angry over this actually makes me feel the tiniest bit better.
“So help me god, I’m about to DM him on Instagram and tear him a new one,” she seethes.
“Don’t do that!” I say, suddenly alarmed. “He’ll think I put you up to it.”
“Wow, Jodie, this is a whole other side of you. You’re always so sweet and jokey,” Richard says. “Who knew?”
Richard is in his forties, but he gets along with Jodie and me really well. He hates television clichés as much as Jodie does, and Richard and his husband, Roy, are big weather nerds, like me. I feel bad that he’s being subjected to high school drama right now, but not enough to stop crying.
“Please, he’s totally lying to Ellie,” Jodie says. “‘I don’t love you’? What kind of bull is that? He told her he loved her right in front of me two weeks ago when we went to the boardwalk.”
Knife. In. The. Heart. I know Jodie didn’t say it to hurt me, but a whole new wave of tears starts when I remember the moment she’s talking about, when I won him a “Made in New Jersey” water bottle via the get-the-frog-on-the-lily-pad game and he was all, “I love this woman!”
“Maybe there’s something going on at home?” Richard wonders. “This did seem sudden, didn’t it?”
“It doesn’t matter,” Jodie says. “He’s clearly going through something and making Ellie think she’s to blame. That deserves a good telling off, if you ask me.”
“But Ellie’s too nice for that,” Richard says.
“Guys,” I hiccup, waving my hand, “I’m right here.”
“He has a point,” Jodie says. “You are too nice. I know you, Ellie. Don’t let this slide.”
And suddenly, Jodie’s anger has transferred to me. She’s right. In twenty-four hours, Hunter has gone from a normal boyfriend to dumping
