Maddy stands, clearly uncomfortable that I’m in her space. “Are
you lost, Tristan?”
“I was looking for you.”
“Why?”
“Because I need to speak with you.”
The girls scoff and snicker and grin at each other. Am I really
that bad?
She looks like a blond Wednesday Addams with that dress and those
stockings. She shoves me with her shoulder on the way out.
“Guess I deserve that,” I grumble.
We stand just down the hallway, where the cigarette smoke only
lingers.
“So talk.” She cocks her head to the side, so her braids look like
uneven weight balances. I wish I had practiced. I wish I knew what to
say that would make her hate me a little less. I came to school to
find her, and now here she is.
“How long have we been friends?” I start.
“Since we started high school.” She doesn’t even hesitate. “Why?”
“I know what I did was stupid. It was wrong. It proves that I’m an
asshole.”
There’s a tug of a smile at her lips. “Keep going.”
“And I’m sorry I’m the reason-”
“Trist, don’t flatter yourself. I know it looks like I changed
drastically after we broke up when you kissed that skank at the beach,
but that wasn’t why. Not entirely. I’m tired of being the Amish lady’s
daughter, the girl no one can believe you’d ever date.”
My stomach turns into nuts and bolts. “I wish I could change what
I did, but I can’t. The truth is that you deserve better than me. I
was so caught up in how sweet you are, and how honest and different
from other girls. I thought, why not? Maddy’s pretty, thoughtful-”
“Plus, I blew you.”
My voice cracks, “Yes, you did. And, thank you. It was nice.
Great, I mean. But, you know-”
She sighs. “Spit it out, Tristan. Do you want to be with me again?
Is that it?”
Fine, now or never. “The necklace I gave you. It wasn’t mine to
give. It was my mom’s. A real important family heirloom, and she asked
me about it yesterday. So I kind of need it back.”
She stares at her Converses. They’re all drawn on with black
Sharpie. The laces on her right side are untied. I bend down and tie
them for her but keep my eyes on her face. She has no idea how much I
have riding on this. How much I actually need her to help me now. How
I really wish I’d never hurt her.
“Tell your mom I’m real sorry,” she says. “I’ll pay for it. I lost
it. I-” She doesn’t finish. She walks away.
It feels like the hallway gets longer and she’ll never reach the
bathroom door again. When she does, she glances over her shoulder to
make sure I’m still crouched here.
I am.
I take the stairwell down one flight of stairs, but it’s blocked
by three couples making out. They don’t even budge as I step between
them and down to the third floor. Someone slams into me, pushing me
against the hallway door.
“Watch it!” Some guy holds on to his pants as he runs away from
two bigger guys. The halls are filled with more students cutting class
than usual. A poke on my ass cheek makes me jump. When I turn around,
I see it’s a girl I hooked up with once at a party, maybe during
freshman year-Samantha? She walks around me and stands in my way. She
puts her index finger on my chest. Her eyes are glossy. Her smile is
wide and manic. She leans close to my ear at the same time that I lean
away.
“I haven’t stopped thinking about you, Tristan.”
“Thanks, Sam.”
“It’s Jessica .”
“Thanks, Jessica. Listen, I have to go.” I try to step around her,
but she blocks my way.
“I was thinking we could, you know, hang. You’re always so busy
that I never see you around.”
The smell that comes from her is like rotting fruit and the
spearmint gum she’s chewing. I try to cover my nose politely. “Okay,
how about I call you tonight?”
“Okay!”
“Good. I’ll talk to you later, okay?”
“I’ll be waiting!” She blows me a kiss as I run the other way,
slowed down by the crowded hallway of students. Another girl calls out
my name, but I keep moving forward. I make a left into the stairwell,
where more couples are grinding against each other. I mean, damn,
there are plenty of dark corners in this old school without having to
do it all together.
A loud pop crashes against the wall, right over my head, and
breaks into itty-bitty pieces. It’s a peppermint ball. Or it was a
peppermint ball. Then another. And another, until one finally hits me
square on the forehead.
“I hate you!” she says. It’s Diana, from the tennis team. We dated
briefly last summer. Her serving arm was impressive, but she never,
ever stopped talking.
She’s holding a bag of assorted candy and chocolates, the big ones
you get at Coney Island for $4.99. “Why didn’t you call me back?”
“Diana, look, I’m sorry.”
“It’s D e anna!” She throws the bag of candy on the floor and runs
up the steps.
Okay. I have to find my friends. This is beyond my level of
strange.
I skid on the tiles when I round the corner to History. They’re
gathered around the door. Layla is leaning against the wall. She
smiles the way I haven’t seen in days. Her head is cocked to the side,
and she’s twirling a silky strand around one finger until it makes a
coil of its own. She’s flirting. She’s flirting with Kurt, whose
shoulders are relaxed and easy as he mimics the movement of throwing a
lance. She laughs, but when she looks down the hallway to where I’m
walking, her laugh goes away.
I’ve used the word killjoy plenty of times, but I never thought
I’d feel like one.
“Well?” she says. I have her and Kurt’s undivided attention. For
the first time, I notice that the couple making out in the corner is
Ryan and Thalia. Guess he can’t ask too many questions if he can’t
form a coherent sentence. Not that either of them seems to mind.
“She says she doesn’t have it.”
“Oh,” they both say.
“Yeah.” I walk past them. I’m not going to add to my recent
Strange Encounters of the Mer-Kind, because that’ll just add to the
list of things I haven’t figured out. I can smell their
disappointment, like flowers wilting in heat. An outstretched hand
stops my forward motion.
“Must be careful, Mr. Hart, or you’ll walk right past my classroom
for the third time since your miraculous return.” Mr. Van Oppen stands
in white slacks and a dark green blazer over a crisp white shirt that
looks like it resists wrinkles. He’s the only dude I know who can pull
off all of that, plus a blue scarf tucked just so around his neck and
into his collar. When he smiles, it’s sort of slanted, revealing teeth
that look like he drinks too much coffee. His blue eyes are ringed
with dark circles. I can picture him walking around his apartment,
smoking cigarettes that he rolls himself and wishing he could burn our
weekly essays.
I take my usual seat against the wall. This is the whitest of all
the classrooms. The shutters are pulled tight, and there are curtains
that don’t let in any light. It’s one of the few rooms that’s air
conditioned, so it always gets the most requests for transfers.
There’s a small gasp behind me; it comes from Thalia. I guess even
mermaids can’t resist his strange charms. She uses Ryan as a shield
and pulls him to the back of the classroom. Van Oppen is ruffled
himself, like he can’t resist her mermaid charm.
The last time I saw Mr. Van Oppen was in my dream, something I
would never admit to anyone. Layla sits in front of me, right at the