An awkward moment descends upon our lunchtime table.
“I’m going to get more Diet Coke.” Val doesn’t ask to fill up our drinks. Even she senses it and gets the hell out of there.
The silence persists between Fred and me. It’s not so much a silence, but a question that needs to be answered.
“I’m not there yet,” I tell him.
“It’s been almost two months. Will you ever be?”
Another question that needs to be answered. I swirl a fry in ketchup.
“When I say it, I want to mean it.” This is what I’ve told him before, but I know he wants more. Why can’t I give him more? Maybe he could let me come to this conclusion organically rather than pressing me for a response. “What’s the rush? We’ve only been together five months. I feel like you’re trying to create these perfect faux-mantic moments, but they just have to happen.”
“Will they?”
“Well, Fred.” I pull up my calendar on my phone. “I’m planning to say I Love You on January seventh at approximately 5:35 p.m. Is that what you want?”
“I just want to know…” Fred runs a hand over his hair, messing up the top.
“You want to know you’re not wasting your time. And you’re not.” This is as close to pouring my heart out as I can get during lunch at Wendy’s. “Like you said, we’re stronger than that.”
Fred nods, and he ekes out a quick smile before eating the rest of his lunch. Val returns with her refill and launches into a story about a fight that broke out in her second period class. We laugh and throw in our two cents, but the tension between us clings to our table for the rest of lunch.
***
People love fights. It’s drama at its purest, most animal form. Hence, there is an abundance of video and pictures from the fight at Steve’s going-away party. I avoided watching this footage throughout my investigation. I don’t want to see Huxley throwing punches. There’s some drama that doesn’t need to be watched. But time is running out. This mystery girl is my closest link to the Revenge Artist.
I crouch in a ball on my bed and watch the fight from multiple angles thanks to multiple spectators. It’s tough. It’s one thing to hear about a fight, but to watch it and to know one of the girls involved… Well, that’s one of those “life is too real” moments that makes me long for the staginess of reality shows.
Once she’s caught, the mystery girl immediately tries to leave the house. She pushes past Huxley and beelines for the front door. She wasn’t there to win back Steve; she just wanted to get caught. If she really had a thing for Steve, she would’ve tried to contact him again.
The girl gets to the edge of the living room before Huxley yanks her back and pushes her against the couch. Huxley smacks her purse to the ground. I’ve never seen her so furious. Fire ignites her eyes, and I can feel the steam wafting off her skin.
Partygoers have formed a tight circle around the action as the girl scurries to collect her things. I hear whispers off-camera, and one guy is yelling that they need a pool of Jell-O. It’s a prime gossip moment. It’s a party these people will never forget.
And it’s Huxley life.
This was the second time this happened to Huxley in less than a year. Her life, falling apart for public spectacle.
“It’s not fair,” I say to myself. She can’t live her life without someone coming along to mess things up. She and Steve can’t even get in an argument without someone manipulating them.
She really is a puppet.
I should probably just leave her alone, leave her break-up with Steve in the past, let her frolic with Wade. But she needs to know the full truth. I have to help her.
I owe it to her.
I replay the fight, this time from the opposite angle. It allows me to see the faces in full view. I’ve never seen Huxley so angry. Her face is torn apart, and every emotion that she’s hid for so long bursts into the open. She grits her teeth as she knocks the purse out of the girl’s hands. My eyes catch something, and I play the video over and over again. I don’t know if it’s anything good, but it’s a hunch, and with the dance happening tomorrow, I’ll take any hunch I can get.
***
Steve and I share an awkward hug when