Chapter 55
Another class period with Korgy where I’m ignored.
He looks like shit at least—parched lips, puffy eyes, skin that’s yellow and gray at the same time—all of which I choose to believe are because of me.
Because he can’t eat, can’t sleep, can’t think without me.
I cling to this as some sort of consolation prize.
But like any consolation prize, it’s just a floppy ribbon reminder that you missed out on the real award, the gold cup trophy you actually wanted, that you’d proudly display on the fireplace mantel, or a shelf, or ironically use as a doorstop to show just how unimportant winning is to you.
A convenient thing to show when you’ve won.
After class, I’m the first one out. I grab my things from my locker and hurry to my car. Just as I start it, there’s a hard knock on my window. I roll it down slowly.
“Yes?” I ask, and my tone comes out impressively even.
“I need a second,” Mr. Korgy says, then he scratches his scruff and looks at me like I’m the one who’s supposed to start talking.
“So what’s up?” I ask coldly. “I’ve gotta head to work.”
I catch a whiff of his scent and try to convince my body it doesn’t like it.
“Waldo,” he says, his tone patronizing. “You haven’t been turning in your assignments…”
“I’ve been busy,” I say, curt and clipped.
“I don’t care how busy you are,” he says. “Your education should come first.”
He runs his hands along his pants, trying to temper his frustration. I like that I’m getting to him. That I’m still able to affect him.
“Don’t let what happened between us distract you. I still want you to be able to take something from my class,” he says.
A sophomore couple crosses the front of my car, hands all over each other. Mr. Korgy cracks his neck and waits for them to pass.
“It’s important that you keep writing. Keep flexing the muscle. Keep doing what you love.”
I try not to laugh. “I don’t love writing. I loved your attention. I couldn’t give two shits about writing. I was using it to get close to you.”
“I understand that you’re upset.”
“I’m not saying that because I’m upset, I’m saying that because I mean it.”
“No,” he says, shaking his head. “I saw that you loved it.”
“You saw what you wanted to see. Just like I did,” I say. “Is there anything else?”
“Yes. There is,” he says. “If you don’t start turning in your assignments, I will fail you.”
I hold a look at him. There’s something I taste on my tongue. Something I enjoy. Something bold and cunning and confident. I smile.
“No you won’t,” I say.
And then I drive off.