He looks around, sees a single rose looped through the handle of my messenger bag, and frowns. Is that mine?
I shake my head, smiling sweetly.
He rubs his forehead. He always does this when hes thinking, like the act of actually using his mind gives him a headache. What happened to all your roses?
Theyre in storage, I say, which is kind of true.
He shakes his head, letting it go. So theres a party tonight. He trails off, then tips his head and smirks at me. I thought it would be fun to go for a bit. He reaches out and clomps a hand on my shoulder, massaging me hard. Like, you know, foreplay.
Only Rob would think that pounding foamy beer from a keg and screaming at each other counts as foreplay, but I decide to let it go and play along. Foreplay? I say, as innocently as I can.
He obviously thinks Im being flirtatious. He smiles and tilts his head backward, looking at me through half narrowed eyes. I used to think it was the cutest thing when he did this; now its a bit like watching a linebacker try to samba. He might have all the moves down, but it just doesnt look right.
You know, he says quietly, I really liked what you wrote in your note.
Did you? I make my voice a purr, thinking about what I scrawled out this morning. You dont have to wait for me anymore.
So I was thinking Id get to the party at ten, stay for an hour or two. He shrugs and adjusts his hat, back to business now that he got the flirting out of the way.
I feel suddenly tired. Id been planning to mess with Rob a littleto get back at him for not paying attention, for not being there, for not caring about anything except partying and lacrosse and how he looks in his stupid Yankees hatbut I cant keep up the game anymore. I dont really care what you do, Rob.
He hesitates. This was not the answer he was expecting. Youre sleeping over tonight, though, right?
I dont think so.
His hand flies up to his forehead again: more rubbing. But you said
I said you didnt have to wait for me anymore. And you dont. I suck in a deep breath. One, two, three, jump. This isnt working out, Rob. I want to break up.
He takes a step backward. His face goes completely white, and then he turns bright red from the forehead down, like someones filling him with Kool-Aid. What did you say?
I said Im breaking up with you. Ive never done anything like this before, and Im surprised by how easy Im finding it. Letting go is easy: its all downhill. I just dont think its working out.
Butbut he sputters at me. The confusion on his face is replaced by rage. You cant break up with me.
I unconsciously shuffle backward, crossing my arms. Whys that?
He looks at me like Im the dumbest person alive. You, he says, almost spitting the word, cannot break up with me.
Then I get it. Rob does remember. He remembers that in sixth grade he said I wasnt cool enough for himremembers it, and still believes it. Any sympathy I still feel for him vanishes in that moment, and as hes standing there, bright red with his fists clenched, it amazes me how ugly I find him.
I can do it, I say calmly. I just did.
And I waited for you. I waited for you for months. He turns away and mutters something I dont hear.
What?
He looks back at me, his face twisted with disgust and anger. This cannot be the same person who a week ago nestled against my shoulder and told me I was his personal blanket. Its like his face has dropped away and theres a totally different face underneath.
I said I should have screwed Gabby Haynes when she asked me to over break, he says coldly.
Something flares in my stomach, leftover pain or pride, but it passes quickly enough and is replaced again by a feeling of calm. Im already gone from here, already flying over this, and I can suddenly understand exactly what Juliet feels, must have felt for some time. Thinking about her brings my strength back, and I even manage to smile.
Its never too late for second chances, I say sweetly, and then I walk away to have my last lunch with my best friends.
Ten minutes later, when Im finally sitting down at our usual tablescarfing an enormous roast beef sandwich with mayonnaise and a plate full of fries, hungrier than Ive been in a long timeand Juliet comes through the cafeteria, I see she has placed a single rose in the empty water bottle that is strapped to the side of her backpack. Shes looking around, too, her face cutting the curtain of her hair in two, checking each and every table she passes, searching, looking for clues. Her eyes are bright and alert. Shes chewing her lip, but she doesnt look unhappy. She looks alive. My heart skips a beat: this is the important thing.
As she weaves past our table, I see a folded note fluttering just under the petals of her rose, and even though Im too far away to read it, I can see whats written there clearly, even when I close my eyes. A single phrase.
Its never too late.
So whats up with you today? Lindsay asks on the way to The Countrys Best Yogurt. Weve almost reached the Row, the line of small shops clustered at the crest of the hill like mushrooms. The blanket of dark clouds is being drawn over the horizon inch by inch, bringing the promise of snow.
What do you mean? Were walking arm-in-arm, trying to stay warm. I wanted Ally and Elody to come along, but Elody had a Spanish test, and Ally insisted that if she missed another English class shed probably get suspended. I didnt make a big deal out of it.
A day like any other.
I mean, why are you acting so weird?
Im trying to formulate an answer and Lindsay goes on, Like, zoning out at lunch and stuff. She bites her lip. I got this text from Amy Weiss.
Yeah?
Amy Weiss is obviously crazy, and I would never believe anything she says, especially about you, Lindsay qualifies quickly.
Obviously, I say, amused, pretty sure I know where this is headed.
But Lindsay sucks in a deep breath and says in a rush, She says she was talking to Steve Waitman, who was talking to Rob, who said that you broke up? Lindsay shoots a glance at me and forces a laugh. I told her it was bullshit, obviously.
I pause, choosing my words carefully. Its not bullshit. Its true.
Lindsay stops walking and stares. What?
I broke up with him at lunch.
She shakes her head like shes trying to dislodge the words from her brain. And, um, were you planning on sharing this little piece of news at some point? With your best friends? Or were you just counting on it to make the rounds eventually?
I can tell shes really hurt. Listen, Lindsay, I was going to tell you
She presses her hands to both ears, still shaking her head. I dont understand. What happened? You guys were supposed toI mean, you told me you wanted totonight.
I sigh. This is why I didnt want to tell you, Lindz. I knew youd make a big deal out of it.
Thats because it is a big deal.
Lindsays so outraged shes not even paying attention as we pass Hunan Kitchen: shes too busy glaring at me like she expects me to suddenly turn blue or combust, like I can never be trusted again.
It occurs to me shes really going to feel that way after I do what Im about to do, but it cant be helped. I turn to her, putting my arms on her shoulders. Wait here for a second, okay?
She blinks at me. Where are you going?
I have to stop in Hunan Kitchen for a second. I brace myself, waiting for her to freak out. I kind of have something for Anna Cartullo.
Im prepared for her to scream or stalk off or throw gummy bears at me or something, but instead her face goes totally blank like the power switch has been flipped off. Im kind of worried she may be going into shock, but the opportunity is too good to pass up.
Two minutes, I say. I promise.
I duck into Hunan Kitchen before Lindsayand her attitudecan come back online. A bell jingles on the door as I walk in. Alex looks up, worried for a second, and then plasters a smile on his face.
Whats up, Sam? he drawls. Idiot.
I ignore him and go straight to Anna. She has her head bent, pushing the food around her plate. Its a lot safer than eating it, thats for sure.
Hey. Im nervous for some reason. Theres something unsettling about her quietness, the way she lifts her eyes and stares at me with no expression. It reminds me of Juliet. I just came by to give you something.
Give me something? She curls her lip back, skeptical, and the resemblance to Juliet is no longer so strong. She must think Im crazy. As far as she knows weve never exchanged a word in our lives, and I can only imagine what she thinks I want to give her.
Alex is looking back and forth from Anna to me, as confused as she is. Im aware of Lindsay watching me through the grimy window, and the fact that three people are staring at me like Ive lost it is a little overwhelming. I reach into my bag, hands trembling a little bit.
Yeah, listen, I know its weird. I cant really explain it, but I pull out a big book of M. C. Escher sketches and put it on the table next to the bowl of sesame chicken. Or orange beef. Or cooked cat. Or whatever.
Anna freezes, staring at the book like its going to bite her.
It just seemed like the kind of thing youd like, I say quickly, already backing away from the table. Now that the hard part is over I feel a thousand times better. Theres over two hundred drawings. You could even hang some of them up, if you had a place to put them.
Something tenses in Annas face. Shes still staring at the book on the table, her hands resting on her thighs. I can see how tightly shes curling her fists.
Im just about to turn and jet out the door when she glances up. Our eyes meet. She doesnt say anything, but her mouth relaxes. Its not quite a smile, but its close, and I take it as a thank-you.
I hear Alex say, What was that about? and then Im out the door, the bell sounding a shrill note behind me.
Lindsays still standing there exactly as I left her, eyes dull. I know shes been watching through the window.
Now I know youve gone crazy, she says.
Im telling you, I dont know what youre talking about. I feel exhilarated now that its over with. Come on. Im fiending me some yogurt.
Lindsay doesnt budge. Lost it. Flipped your lid. Gone bat shit. Since when do you bring Anna Cartullo presents?