—going to be SO fun, Spike’s best party yet, can’t wait
to see everyone—
—first party with Elisa and me as a couple—
will she—will we—
—hope this color doesn’t make me look pale—
Elisa. James. Cassie. I shake my head back and forth a little. My breath catches at their excitement, their happiness. The corners of my mouth turn up involuntarily. Then the elation dissipates like water running down a drain, leaving me feeling insignificant and small. My hands clench at my sides. Their happiness—it’s got nothing to do with me.
Obviously they’ve moved on with their lives.
And now it’s my turn.
Spike says something about James’s brother’s band playing during the party, and then he whispers something to me about the “special punch” that Cassie is bringing, but it doesn’t matter. I hear the doorbell ring inside. It’s time for me to go.
I hug Spike on my way out the side gate, surprising him.
“Sure you don’t want to stay?” He cocks his head like a little puppy. “I have it on good authority that the punch contains only the finest generic vodka. And you don’t have to talk to Cassie.”
I shake my head. “I’m supposed to be home.”
I don’t belong here. I know that. Even though, when I look at Spike, I think about all the times I spent here before we met Cassie, and I feel like I’m already home.
It’s the Monday after Winter Break. I drive to school feeling relieved to get out of the house, but I’m also apprehensive because today’s the day I’m determined to talk everything out with Mikaela. We need to settle this. I know I want to. I know she wants to; she sent me enough emails over the break, though all I did in response was text her to say Happy New Year.
She has to know the things she said were unfair.
And I need to know that I can trust her.
My morning classes blur by. The lunch bell rings at the end of fourth period and I’m startled enough to jump. I grab my backpack and grit my teeth.
After buying a diet soda, I walk as calmly as I can toward the back of campus, but my steps start to drag. Maybe she’s going to want to keep fighting about this. It doesn’t matter. I still have to talk to her. And at some point I need to figure out what to do about Cody. He needs to understand that this isn’t just a joke, a trick. That this is serious, and my underhearing is real.
I hitch my backpack up and finger-comb my hair before rounding the corner of the art building. My stomach churns. I step around the back toward the awning.
Everyone’s there. It looks like that first week I started sitting with them, before I broke into their tight-knit little group. Mikaela is standing at one end talking animatedly to Cody. She laughs and thumps him on the head. Cody flips her off. Becca is putting on burgundy lipstick. David is drawing in his sketchbook. Andy and a couple of his friends, dressed nearly identically in concert T-shirts and black jeans, are eating cafeteria pizza.
I stride forward before I lose my nerve. I head for an empty half-spot at the opposite end of the table from Cody and set down my brown paper lunch bag. Becca says hey, and David looks up briefly and smiles. Nothing seems out of the ordinary. Nobody seems to know what happened over the break.
Small favors.
I glance out of the corner of my eye at the other end of the bench. Mikaela looks at me and … doesn’t smile, exactly, but the corners of her mouth twitch into a sort of grimace. Cody just gives me a long, considering look. My hackles rise. I wonder if they’ve been talking about me. Again.
I’m not going to let it get to me. I pull out my sandwich and carrot sticks and start eating. After a few minutes, I catch myself smiling at something Becca says. Slowly the tension in my body eases. Mikaela walks to our side of the table to get something out of her messenger bag and says quietly, “Are we okay? You never answered my emails.”
“That depends,” I say. I swallow hard. “Got a few minutes to talk?”
She nods. When I get up a few minutes later and start walking, she grabs her bag and follows me around the corner. The ground is damp from an earlier drizzle, so instead of sitting, we stand awkwardly a few feet from each other.
“So, talk,” she says. “I know you have something to say. You were glaring at me all through lunch.”
“I wasn’t glaring,” I start, my voice croaking a little. I clear my throat. “Look. The last time we … after the party. I was really mad.”
“Well, I was too,” she says, staring over my shoulder at the jasmine. Then she sighs and looks directly at me. “I have to be honest. I was pissed. I felt like you didn’t understand anything about me, even though you have this … you know. Thing. I felt like you should just be able to automatically, like, read my mind and figure it all out, know exactly what to say.”
I open my mouth, then close it again.
“I know that’s not true; you told me how it worked. But that’s the thing!” she bursts out, starting to pace back and forth. “You told me all this stuff about—you know. And it was hard to deal with. I freaked out. I couldn’t handle it myself. So I told Cody. But I swear I didn’t know he was going to tell anyone! I didn’t know what to do during that stupid party. I was mad at him, and I was mad at you for running out and leaving me in there. But I’m sorry I yelled at you, okay?”
This is too hard. I don’t know what to say. She’s apologized, but she still sounds mad, and I’m still upset. And I don’t know how to make it better between us.
“I shouldn’t have said anything,” I say miserably.
Mikaela lets out a frustrated noise. “No, that’s not it. Don’t think that. I shouldn’t have said anything.” She fidgets restlessly, shifting from foot to foot. “This sucks. It really does.”
She looks at me. Even though she sounds angry, her eyes are pleading, as if she wants to say more but doesn’t know what or how.
I sigh. “What if we just agree to be done fighting? Can we just … decide to be okay?” I’m still mad, but I don’t know what else to do. We’re at a stalemate, but we both regret what happened. We’re both sorry.
“Yeah,” she says. She looks relieved, and the tension in the air seems to dissipate a little. She moves as if to head back to the picnic table. But I still have something I need to say.
“Mikaela, wait.” She stops and turns toward me again. “I didn’t realize I felt that way about Cody. That’s why I didn’t say anything. I didn’t realize you—that you—” I clear my throat. “If you guys are together—I didn’t know.”
She grimaces; waves a hand dismissively. “We’re definitely not together.”
“But—”
“No. Believe me. I’ve tried, but he’s not interested. I think he likes that Rennie chick.” A mixture of feelings roil around in my chest. Relief, hope, disappointment.
She pauses for a minute and her expression grows tense again. I can see she’s trying to force out something difficult, something she’s not sure she wants to say.
“You know, about Cody.” She looks me in the eye. “He’s not evil, even if he does think the sun shines out of his own ass. He really does want to help you with your … power.”
“Uh huh. I was thinking I’d give him a few more weeks of the silent treatment.” We start walking back toward our lunch table.
“Seriously, you should talk to him. He might understand more than you think. He’s got family issues too.” She looks off into the distance again. “And he really is sorry. I know that for a fact because I ripped him a new one after the party.”