He murmurs in agreement.
We talk for another ten minutes, until we finally say goodnight and hang up. But as I get ready for bed, his words won’t leave me. These other parts of him... I wonder if they’re parts I want to know... or if they’re pieces of a man completely different from the one he’s shown me so far.
Ethan
I drop onto the bench, turn the volume up, and lean back until my shoulders find the table.
The trees in front of me blur while I try to breathe deep enough, to keep everything inside me from blowing apart.
I had to leave the cafeteria before I messed up again.
The last thing I want is Mom being called in because I hit Tyler in front of everyone.
She tried to play it off that day, but I noticed the disappointment, the worry. She didn’t say it out loud, but I know she hates seeing me let someone like him crawl into my head.
Alan, my therapist, said the same thing as Mom last session:Tyler wants attention. He’s not telling me to run away from every fight, just to stop letting my first answer be my fists.
“Breathe. Think. Actions have consequences,” he said.
Thinking about Mom and Alicia is the only reason I didn’t go after him again today when he started his act in the cafeteria.
I don’t know how long I sit there staring at the trees, before I feel a light tap on my shoulder. I look up, sliding one side of my headphones off my ear.
Dalila, a girl from my class I’ve talked to a few times, is looking at me with a small smile on her face.
“Can I sit?” she asks.
Frowning, I nod. I came all the way to the back of the school, where almost no one ever hangs out, because I needed space. But I can’t exactly tell her to go find another bench.
“The guys were talking about what happened with Tyler,” she says in a sweet tone. “He’s such a jerk.”
I just nod.
“Can I see your hand?”
“It’s nothing, it’s alrea—”
I don’t even finish before she’s lifting my hand off my thigh. Her thumb slides over my knuckles, almost healed now, a week later.
“I’m sorry,” she whispers. “I’m sorry about everything.”
I know she’s not just talking about the fight.
“Everything” means my family. All the bullshit everyone now thinks they have a right to talk about. And it’s allhisfault.
I manage a small smile.
“I heard you applied to Columbia and NYU too. The letters should come any day now and I’m so anxious,” she says, keeping her hand in mine. “Maybe we’ll bump into each other at one of them?”
“Yeah... maybe.”
It comes out with a tiny smile. She strokes my hand once more with her thumb, then stands up.
“I’ll leave you to your music now. Just... don’t end up missing your next class.”
She leans in to kiss my cheek, but I turn at the wrong second, startled, and our lips bump. She stops for a beat, eyes going wide, then she lets out a small giggle.
“I’ll see you around, Ethan,” she says, her smile never fading.
