Chapter 10
Ifinished my geometry test quickly, so Mr. Sanchez released me early. Connor always meets me after fifth period to walk to the cafeteria together, but I’m going to surprise him today.
I sit outside the boy’s locker room, my back against the painted cinderblock, and check my planner for what homework I have this weekend.
It’s been a crummy week and TGIF is real. Isabelle’s been in an awful mood because the soccer team graffitied her locker with the same slurs she’s suffered the past two years. Mom’s been on a bender because she lost her job. Again. She spent the little she had left on alcohol.
I try so hard not to hate her but sometimes loving her is impossible. I’m re-writing my list of assignments into a neat checklist when the boys clamor into the locker room after gym class.
The old building’s acoustics give me an auditory front row seat to the idiot-teenage-boy show. Laughter and jibes blur together, but one voice stands out amongst the racket.
“Dude, Coach is going to be pissed. You can’t miss another practice, or he’ll bench you,” Connor chastises someone.
“Fuck off, Hayes. It’s not my fault Mrs. Lumpy Ass has no sense of humor and gave me detention.”
“It’s literally your fault. You’re such an idiot but you’re the best forward on the team and we’re gonna get creamed by Ridgemount if you’re benched,” Connor continues.
Another voice enters the conversation. “Ask your sister to flash him her ass again. Last time the cheerleaders pranced in front of him, his tongue rolled out of his head. He’d forget all about benching you and put you in.”
“I’m not asking my sister to flash Coach, you sick fuck.” Who was that?
A quieter voice makes my skin crawl. “Don’t bother. Just ask Easy Izzy. She’s used up but even an old dude like Coach would check her out.”
The nickname this school bestowed upon my sister makes me sick. Why isn’t Connor standing up for her?
“Don’t ask Easy Izzy, ask her sister. She’s fresh meat. She’d distract Coach for sure.”
“Watch it.” There’s Connor’s baritone.
“Oh right, we’re not allowed to talk about Connor’s girlfriend.”
“She’s not my girlfriend,” Connor insists. Why does he sound so disgusted at the thought of being with me?
The razzing amplifies and it’s difficult to make out who’s saying what through the bustling locker room.
“Bet she spreads her legs as easy as her sister.”
“She’s not even the hot sister.” Was that Connor’s voice? He doesn’t even like Izzy.
“Who would want her anyway?” Wait, was that Connor? I can’t tell. Why would he say something like that? Or why wouldn’t he stop them from saying these things?
Laughter echoes from the locker room and lockers slam shut. I scramble to stuff my things into my backpack and disappear from the athletics hallway through the nearest exit.
The crisp mountain air tangles my hair and nips at my nose as I sit behind the building, stomach growling angrily.
Izzy and Olivia have a different lunch period than me, so I always eat with Connor. And by eat with Connor, I mean he packs or buys two lunches, so I have something to eat, because we rarely have groceries at home.
But I can’t stomach lunch with Connor today. He texted me after fifth period from outside my geometry class, waiting for me like he does every day, but I wasn’t there. Because I’m a fool and tried to surprise him and instead overheard things I can never un-hear.
I’m so stupid. No matter how many times I’m slapped in the face with it, I always hold out hope one day Connor will see me as girlfriend material. And today I got bitch slapped.
Not the hot sister? No one will ever want me.
Even if I had money to buy a lunch today, I couldn’t eat it because my stomach is burning from humiliation.
My phone chimes for the millionth time. I succumb to temptation and open my messages.
Connor: Did you leave geometry already?
Connor: Meet me in the cafeteria.
Connor: Where are you?
Connor: Doll?
Connor: You’re freaking me out.
Connor: Lunch is almost over. I’ll meet you outside your sixth period.
Except, I won’t be there. I can’t face him with my heart bleeding out of my chest. I shoot a text to Izzy saying I’m sick and walking home. I never ditch class, but there’s no way I’m going back inside.
TGIF has taken on a whole new meaning today. Connor has away games this weekend, so I’ll have two days to mend my broken heart. Monday I’ll come back to school and pretend I’m not madly in love with my best friend.
Because he’ll never want me.