And then one more time.
Is he going to leave us?
Or will everything be fine?
That evening, I curl up on my bed, staring at my text thread with Dad. His message is still sitting there, our faces smiling at me from the photo. I should reply. I don’t want to leave him hanging like I did a few weeks ago.
Sorry for the late text! Those sweaters, omg.
I stare down at my text, waiting for a reply. The ellipses pop up, way faster than he usually responds.
Took you long enough.
My hands shake as I type, and delete, and retype:I got distracted with school stuff, I’m really sorry.
I get it. You’ve got more important things to do.
Tears fill my eyes. He’s in his trailer right now, probably reaching for a beer can, and it’s all my fault. What if he’s doing worse than before? What if he wants to ki—
Brekky jumps on my bed, headbutting the hand holding my phone and I drop it onto the comforter. I snatch it up again, but in my thread with Dad, there’s only my text about the sweaters, waiting for his reply.
I toss my phone away from me on the bed, but it vibrates again and I snatch it up. The message is from a new number, though, one I haven’t saved.Meet up at lunch Monday?the preview asks.
From my pillow, Brekky watches me, eyes half closed. I open the conversation, and when I see the text before it, I know who it is: Forrest. I save his number in my phone and text back.Sounds good.
How’s your outline going?
Oh my god. The outline. I’ve been so in my head about Jayden that I completely forgot about it, and it’s due tomorrow. I’m not telling Forrest that, though.Fine,I say back, and jump up, rushing to my backpack where it sits languishing next to my closet, clothes strewn on the floor around it. I rummage through, pulling out the readings and my notes and my laptop. It’s going to be a late night.
My phone buzzes.Lundahl’s nice but she goes way too hard with the essays sometimes,Forrest says.
I crouch on the floor, staring at the phone. I don’t really know what to say back. It’s not a question, so there’s nothing for me to answer.For real,I say finally.
You’re in third period history, right? How’s the group project going?
OK, I guess we’re having a conversation. School is a safe subject, and—How do you know what class I’m in? Stalker,I say.
LMFAO noooooo! Stef mentioned you’re in it with her.
Oh, right. That was a stupid thing for me to say. Why did I call him a stalker? I didn’t actually think that, it just ...came out. Like when I’m joking with my friends, and we call each other names, but it’s all in fun.
Which class are YOU in?I ask.
Fourth period. With Jayden.
I knew that, of course, because Jayden’s in the group project with him, but I’m not about to let Forrest know that I know anything about him.
On my bed, I arrange everything I need for the outline in a perfect half circle in front of me. If I study at the table, Mom will notice, and then she’ll ask questions, and I can’t tell her I’m this behind on an assignment.
I grab my phone again, staring at Forrest’s last text. I could ask how his outline is going, whether he’s come up with a thesis yet, what his arguments are. Do I really want to open that door, though? We just barely came to a truce, and the peace between us feels delicate, like a glass too close to the edge of a table waiting to be knocked off. Better to give it space, let it stay where it is.
I put the phone back down and open my laptop instead.
At lunch on Monday, forrest isn’t on his phone when I get to the library; instead, he’s watching the door, and he grins when he sees me come in. I’m dragging today, eyes squinty from lack of sleep, a dull headache forming behind my eyes.
“I couldn’t let you scare me again,” he says when I get close. I crack a smile, but it’s half-hearted, and his expression shifts to a questioning frown. “What’s up with you?”
“Nothing.” I sit across from him, opening my lunch. “I was just up late finishing the outline.” Actually, I was up all night, writing the entire outline from scratch, but I already feel like enough of a failure for falling behind in the first place; I don’t need Forrest to know about it too. If I want to keep the presidency, I can’t show the cracks.
