“Um, no. I didn’t know they broke up, and if they did, I had nothing to do with it.” I swallow, start again, hear that I sound defensive, though I don’t know what about. “I mean, she’s a huge bitch, and maybe he saw that she’s been, you know, so mean, so indirectly, I guess it could tangentially have to do with me. But wait, what?” I’m rambling because I’m nervous. I stop, let my brain play catch-up. He’s not saying what I think he’s saying, is he? No. Liam couldn’t have broken up with Gem because he likes me?
No, that’s not possible.
Oh God. I finger the paper in my pocket. My ticket back to Chicago. Tomorrow cannot come soon enough. I need to get far, far away from this place. I think of Dri hearing this somehow, through that weird Wood Valley network I’m not at all clued into, and her thinking I’ve betrayed our new friendship. She knows I have no interest in Liam, right?
None of this makes sense. Gem is the kind of girl who makes men, not just boys but men, do double-takes. There is no universe in which someone would break up with her for me. Unless…Is Liam somehow SN? Do we have some sort of intellectual connection that would make him want to bridge that impossible gap between Gem and me?
No. Liam’s an only child. No dead sisters—real or otherwise. And it’s not like we really connect when we talk in person. At least, I don’t think so.
Liam did tell me the other day at the store that I was “easy to talk to” and a “really good listener.” They seemed like throwaway words, the right thing to say to someone who is a little shy. Honestly, I am not that good a listener. I am just good at letting other people talk.
No, Caleb must have the story wrong.
“All right, whatever. But I can’t get involved,” he says, and starts to walk away.
“Wait,” I say, wanting to ask a million questions but realizing I should probably just IM him instead. More direct and efficient.
“What?” Caleb looks back. He’s shaking his stupid phone again, like that alone should satisfy me: the promise of a future message.
“Nothing,” I say. “Just talking to myself.”
SN: excited for your trip?
Me: CANNOT WAIT TO GET OUT OF HERE.
SN: day was that bad?
Me: I just. You know what? Never mind.
SN: anything I can do?
Me: No, not really.
So I was wrong. It’s not easier to write the words, to spell it out: You hurt my feelings today. I don’t like Liam. My fingers are tired of this. It was just coffee.
Or this: How can you like me so much in words and care so little for me in person?
Or maybe even this, just to be one hundred percent sure: You are Caleb, right?
I lie back on my bed. It shouldn’t be surprising that SN doesn’t want to hang out in real life. Even before I stopped talking to him, my own dad barely wanted to speak to me.
The self-pity creeps in, slow, stealthy, hungry, the monster under my bed. I try not to think of my mom, so handy in these moments as a cheap, easy trigger. A way to justify feeling sorry for myself: the loser with the dead mom. A shortcut that is as demeaning to her as it is to me.
Dri: OMG! OMG! OMG!
Me: ?
Dri: I was right! Gemiam is SO OVER.
Me: Wow. Cool.
Dri: Methinks this occasion deserves more enthusiasm. And get this: HE BROKE UP WITH HER.
Me: Huh. Guess he figured out who she really is.
She hasn’t heard the second part yet. Maybe Caleb is wrong. Maybe I have nothing to do with anything. Maybe I misunderstood what he was saying. That would make a hell of a lot more sense. Either way, I’m not going to be the bearer of this ridiculous gossip, especially because I’m hoping it isn’t true.
A mere two months ago, when I was eating lunch by myself on that lonely bench, the idea of a senior, any senior, asking me out would have been not only inconceivable but thrilling. More than just flattering: the stuff of my dork-girl fantasies. He’s the lead singer of the coolest band in school, after all. But now Liam could screw up everything: my friendship with Dri, my job, maybe even things with Ethan, who always gets weird when Liam comes up in conversation. And, of course, Caleb, who now has found a convenient excuse