Page 112 of Okay, Cupid

This one last reminder of him.

If I can’t have Huy, I guess I can at least have this music he wanted to give to me.

I step out into my room, grabbing the Walkman and the wired headphones that I’ve been using, swapping out the tape for the last mix of his that I was listening to.

I hit play.

The tape runs for a bit, the tread audible in my ears.

Then his voice comes in.

“Hey, Jude … I, uh … God, this is so awkward, I’m so sorry. But I wanted to make this for you. Just because, and also because I like you, and I don’t know if you’re going to listen to this before or after I tell you. I guess I should make sure it’s after, or else that’d be awkward, huh? I’m also going to ask you to forgive me for the first song choice. I couldn’t resist. Enjoy it.”

There’s more silence.

Then the song begins softly.

“ ‘Hey, Jude, don’t make it bad. Take a sad song, and make it better …’ ” The words come in a cool voice that’s soothing to my ears. And it feels like such a Huy thing to do to pick a song like this. I hate him for it.

I hate him for stumbling into my life, for making things so much easier for me to understand, for showing me kindness when he didn’t have to. I hate him for what he’s done to me, for showing me his favorite movie, for staying up late with me, for making me donuts, for letting me borrow his clothes, for letting me into his heart when I couldn’t do the same for him.

I hate him.

I hate him so much.

And as the chorus erupts, I let myself cry again.

• • •

I’m home alone when the doorbell rings on Tuesday. Leah’s been busy all day, hunched in front of her laptop. When I went into the kitchen to grab a bite to eat, I could see her investigating various lists of “Best Places to Raise a Queer Teen” and Zillow listings. I made my peanut-butter sandwich, but I took one bite and my stomach twisted.

I don’t want to leave the Bay. This is my home, it’s the only place I’ve ever known.

But I guess I don’t have a choice.

At least I can get away from Cal. He texted me exactly once to say he’s sorry, but I didn’t respond to him. I couldn’t. I can’t think of a single word that I want to say to him right now. And the worst part? I’m not even angry with him. How can I be? I don’t blame him for his feelings; I can’t. Because that’s exactly what I’ve done to myself.

I know I’ll have to talk to him before we leave, but right now, the wound is too fresh. I half expect it to be him at the bottom of the stairs, waiting for me with some grand gesture like the cue cards Andrew Lincoln somehow charms Keira Knightley with in Love Actually despite him being terrible for her and her husband literally being in the next room. Then I start to wonder if it’ll be Huy, here to talk to me, to tell me his feelings one final time. Or to shout and yell at me like I deserve for playing with his heart the way that I did.

But it’s neither of them.

Instead it’s Neve and Alice, both with their backpacks slung over their shoulders.

Oh, right. School.

I forgot about that.

“Hey.” I open the gate, letting it swing slowly. “What are you two doing here?”

“Brought your notes.” Neve shows me. “And the homework that you missed.”

“Oh, well, thanks.” I take the short stack of papers, which includes Alice’s algebra notebook, which I assume she’s letting me borrow. “I can’t take this,” I tell her, handing it back.

Alice crosses her arms. “Why not? Just give it back tomorrow.”

“I’m not coming back.”

The shock registers on both their faces at the same time. “What?!”