“I mean it,” Gabby continued. “Every time he opened his mouth today, I wanted to punch him in the face. I can’t imagine what I’d do if my dad talked to me that way.”
Ryan’s back prickled at that, like a cat or a porcupine; he felt his face go hot with shame. “He’s not that bad, if you get to know him.”
“Really?” Gabby shook her head, dismissive. “Because I won’t lie to you, today seemed kind of bad.”
“Well, it wasn’t,” Ryan said tightly. He didn’t like the tone she was using, like he was some dope from a white-trash family who wasn’t even smart enough to realize how tragic his life was. “It wasn’t a big deal.”
“Really?” Gabby asked, frowning. “Does that mean it’s usually worse?”
“It means not everybody’s family is as civilized and pristine as yours, Gabby.”
“Wait, what?” Gabby’s eyes narrowed. “What’s wrong with my family?”
“It’s notaboutyour family,” Ryan said; he could hear hisvoice getting sharper, but it was like he couldn’t do anything to stop it. He didn’t have a bad temper, generally, but enough was enough. “It’s about you not knowing what you’re talking about.”
“You realize I’m on your team here,” Gabby said, eyes flashing like he was being the unreasonable one. “I’m telling you as your friend that this wasn’t normal.”
“And I’m tellingyouwe’re not good enough friends for you to be telling me what’s normal about my life!”
Gabby looked at him like he’d punched her. “We’renot?” she asked, and her voice was so quiet.
That was when the bus began to smoke.
GABBY
Gabby stood miserably on the side of the highway twenty minutes later, stamping her feet against the cold and listening to the irritated murmur of the displaced crowd all around her. There was another bus coming to rescue them, allegedly, since theirs was still emitting great, billowing clouds of stinky black smoke from underneath its massive hood. The bus driver had assured them it wasn’t going to explode, but he’d also quickly ushered them all about a hundred yards down the shoulder, so Gabby wasn’t entirely impressed with his confidence. She had no idea how long they’d beenwaiting. Her phone was officially dead.
She crossed her arms inside her hoodie, trying not to shiver as the frigid wind blew. She hated buses. She hated Albany. She hated hockey. And she hated Ryan most of all.
God, she was sohumiliated. He was right: she’d completely misjudged their relationship, just like she completely misjudged all social interactions, because she was a weird, awkward, mentally broken person who nobody actually liked. Who evenRyandidn’t actually like. She’d made the mistake of thinking that just because this friendship was important to her—was the most important, even—it was important to him, too. And she’d been wrong.
It should have been a relief, Gabby thought, shoving her icy hands into the pockets of her hoodie. After all, she’d spent the last year waiting for the other shoe to drop—for this whole thing to come crashing down—and now it had. But instead she could feel the anxiety starting to close in all around her, like a pack of wild animals creeping out of the woods that ran along the edge of highway. Gabby gritted her teeth, tried to beat it back. She’d be home soon, she reminded herself urgently. She’d be fine.
“Come here,” Ryan said suddenly. It was the first thing either one of them had said since they got off the bus; he’d been keeping his distance, staring out at the cars whizzing by, but when Gabby glanced over in his direction she found his dark gaze was fixed on hers.
Gabby glared back. “Why?” she demanded.
“Because you’re freezing.”
“I am not.”
Ryan rolled his eyes, shrugging out of his varsity jacket and holding it out to her. “Here,” he said. “Take this.”
Gabby scowled. “We’re not good enough friends for that,” she snapped.
Ryan sighed noisily, coming closer. “I’m sorry,” he said, draping the jacket over a guardrail and reaching for her arm. “Come on, you know I didn’t mean that.”
Gabby jerked her elbow away. “Didn’t you?”
“No!” he said, eyes widening like he was honestly horrified. “Of course not. Of course we’re good enough friends for you to be honest with me about stuff. You’re probably theonlyfriend I have who would be that honest, actually.”
“Clearly not.” Gabby didn’t want to be having this conversation. She wanted to go home and get in bed and never see him again in her life. “Look,” she said, voice shrill and brittle. “Obviously our whole friendship was a sideshow to begin with. It was weird while it lasted, and now it can be over and we can all go back to our regularly scheduled programming. Sound good? Here, we can start right now, even.”
She was about to stalk away, but Ryan’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean it’s a sideshow?” he asked.
Gabby scoffed. “Oh, come on. Look at us, Ryan.” She gestured widely. “Do we honestly strike you as people who should logically be hanging out together every weekend?”
“I don’t get it,” Ryan said, sounding oddly wounded. “Why? Because you think I’m such an idiot?”
