Shit, I probably dropped it when shoving my blazer off. First I try to find it by roaming my hands in the dark but eventually turn on the ceiling light. It momentarily blinds me, and I have to blink to adjust to the bright room.
Somehow, my phone landed in the corner. That’s when I see it, rolled into the dip of dull grey carpet right by the wall.
A pen with a battery taped to the end.
13
Jude: Something Wrong
“You’re looking happy today,” Tim comments in Chemistry.
“Why wouldn’t I be?” I say. “It’s a great day.”
Tim stares at me. “It’s eight degrees outside, we have assessments for Chem, Bio and English next week, and the tuckshop has sold out of double espresso iced coffees.”
“It’s still a great day.”
He gives me a look, weirded out by my senseless optimism, but I don’t care — I’ve been on cloud nine all week. Even at home, I hum as I write notes for upcoming tests, and I voluntarily unload the dishwasher and do the laundry. My good mood must be infectious because even Mum gives me a few tentative smiles.
Today’s Friday, which means I’ll be seeing R again. I slip my phone out under my desk and email him.
Dear R,
See you this afternoon. I can’t wait to kiss you again.
Love,
F.
He doesn’t reply in the next few minutes, but he’s probably busy right now. We haven’t really talked since Monday when we confessed our feelings to each other, and while I’m disappointed we’ve stopped our nightly phone calls (R said he had a lot of work to do), it means that I’m even more excited to see him today.
At recess, I check my phone. No response. I check again at the end of recess — still nothing — and arrive late to Maths. When I get to my seat, my battery pen’s resting on the middle of the desk.
“I was looking for this,” I say to Aaron, whose head is bowed as he draws in his notebook.
He doesn’t raise his head. “It was already there.”
Since I couldn’t find it all week, I made another one, but it doesn’t matter if I have a spare. I take out my textbook and notebook while Mrs Johns sets up the whiteboard.
“How was your weekend?” I ask Aaron. It’s the first question I’ve asked him since term started. On Monday, we didn’t speak, partly because it was a busy class with Mrs Johns frantically preparing us for an upcoming assessment, but also because things have been awkward since dinner with his friends.
I regretted everything I said as soon as I left the pizza restaurant, which was minutes after I commented on his hickeys. Aaron got me a job at his family’s business, and he’s a nice guy. He didn’t deserve the way I snapped at him.
“Fine, thank you,” Aaron replies, keeping his eyes on his notebook. He’s drawing a circle, his blue pen spinning around and around and around until the point pierces the page.
Right. He’s still upset with me, and I can’t blame him, so I focus 100% of my energy on maths questions. If I do, I won’t fret that R hasn’t replied. I mostly do it to distract myself, but after the bell rings to mark period four, I take a break to rearrange my books. In doing so, I accidentally brush Aaron with my elbow, and he jerks halfway out of his chair like I’ve electrocuted him. He meets my eyes for the first time all class, and he looks afraid, like he thinks I’m going to snap at him. Yes, I was a dick to him last Friday, but I’m not going to be mean now. I wish he didn’t look so terrified of me.
“Sorry,” I say.
“That’s okay,” he says, but a second later, he pushes himself away from his desk and heads for the bathroom. He’s gone for a while. Not that I’m paying attention.
Okay, maybe I am paying attention, partly because I’m hit with a new wave of guilt for saying that he was “absolutely not” attractive (but why would he even care about my opinion?) and alluding to his secret relationship with Lily. But also, there’s no need for him to run away from me like I’m contagious. Is he really that mad at me?
Whatever. I don’t care.
My phone buzzes. It’s a new email from R, and my shoulders relax.
Then I open it.
