Marcus:Yeah, dude, be ready at 6:30.
Great. He’s cosigning.
This whole situation has seemed to snowball, culminating in a double date with my best friend, orchestrated by his overly involved girlfriend. So here I am, staring at my phone, knowing there’s no backing out.
Another text pops up.
Macy:It’s gonna be so cute omg!
Cute??? I’d rather get hit by a hockey puck at full speed.
I don’t respond to the messages but schedule the date in my brain before plugging my phone in and setting it on my nightstand, dragging the blanket over my head.
It’s so fucking late.
I cannot shut my brain off.
It’s a spinning wheel, bouncing from one conversation from my day to the next, every hour playing on a loop, from Harper to Maddie to Marcus and Macy to my algebra teacher—who chewed me out after I fell asleep in his ninth-hour class. Back to Harper. Back to Maddie.
Like—would you mind if I popped in and did a video for social media?She stood in the hallway, fluorescent lights at her back casting a halo around her head. Or maybe I just imagined that.
Would I mind if she popped in to film a video? Hell no, I don’t mind!
Please do!
It didn’t occur to me in the moment to ask Harper’s opinion—I could feel the tension oozing out of her as she stood beside me, practically seething but determined to act unaffected.
Was Maddie only being nice so she could film content? So she could boost her own social standing and make it look like she was doing prom things? I don’t know shit about that stuff, but I’m sure high school drama is good for ratings.
She was so sweet, though—and Maddie Miller is never polite.
People can change, can’t they? Maybe she changed her mind about how she feels about me.
Bullshit. She didn’t wake up this morning and decide she wants to hang out with you. She didn’t change her mind about going on that date you asked her on.
I’m popular enough, but no one is voting me prom king. I have a six-packsomeof the time—but that depends on whether or not it’s hockey season.
Ha.
My brain bounces back to Harper.
It’s not that I don’t like her—I do. She’s fun. And the more time we spend together, the more fun we have. But with Maddie Miller rearing her head, everything suddenly feels complicated. I’ve had a crush on her since middle school.
How am I supposed to focus on anything if she comes around?
And how am I supposed to act around Harper knowing she’s noticed how Maddie affects me?
Jeez, she getssobent out of shape for no reason.
I shift on the bed, trying to find a comfortable position. It’s no use. My thoughts are too loud, too chaotic. I toss and turn some more, staring at the wall now and the ugly plaid wallpaper I’ve had since I was a kid that my parents haven’t taken down and probably never will because my mom is “MAD FOR PLAID!” as she has proclaimed more than once.
The wall gives me the same blank stare the ceiling gave me.
Then.
There’s a knock on the door—two firm raps. No hesitation.
I know it’s my dad before he even steps inside. He never waits for an answer. The door creaks open, and I hear the shuffle of his footsteps against the carpet.
