by Zara Rivas
When I arrived at school early the next morning, I felt better than I had in weeks. I did laps around the track, reveling in how awake I felt. I could feel the energy coursing through me.
People were openly staring me as I gathered my things for first period. I ignored it—most of them had been openly staring at me since the first day of classes—but there was something different about their stares this time.
"Were you just not planning on telling me?" Erica asked accusingly, appearing out of nowhere to accompany me to English.
"Telling you what?" I asked, thoroughly confused.
She looked at me pointedly before explaining, "That you're going to prom with Casey, doofus."
"I'm what?" I asked, stopping dead in my tracks.
"Casey said—" she cut herself off, "Ohh."
I shook my head, eventually continuing to English when I realized we were blocking hall traffic. Maybe he misunderstood. I hadn't said yes, I said maybe. It was a huge difference. It was saying he would have to earn it. So far, the points weren't going in his favor.
When we walked into the classroom, all conversation stopped. I rolled my eyes, grabbed Casey by the sleeve, and pulled him into the hallway. "I didn't say I'd go with you, Casey," I said softly. I didn't want to hurt him if he truly had misunderstood.
"You said 'we'll see,'" he smirked, "We both know that means yes."
I shook my head, raising my eyes to his, "Apparently not." My tone was more heated now than ever. "I think I'll be changing my response to 'no way in hell'. God, you were a decent person yesterday. What the hell happened?" I shook my head and walked back into class without giving him the chance to reply.
Erica raised her eyebrows at me when I dropped into the desk next to her, shaking my head sadly. "You actually look disappointed."
I shrugged, taking a glance at Casey, who was lost in conversation with some friends. "I am," I said. I didn't know what to do, but I knew I wouldn't be able to stand this awkward, almost hurt feeling in my stomach for very long. What had I expected? A complete transformation? Casey's reputation was, and would always be, the most important thing in his life. I had only boosted his ego, giving him the idea that he could have anything at all with me. I knew that reacting to Casey at all was what he wanted. Perhaps to get me to leave me the hell alone would be to not react at all.
I hadn't argued when Casey suggested that we do some more work on our history project. I only nodded noncommittally, told him I'd drive there myself, and took my time getting there. I wanted to project that I didn't care one way or another about him, but really, I was so nervous that it took me fifteen minutes to convince myself to drive to his house at all.
When he pulled the door open and smiled genuinely at me, it was all I needed to convince myself that I was doing the right thing. Being as two-faced as he was made me seethe with anger.
He tried to be nice. Nothing was mentioned about our previous conversation that day, which only served to make me madder. He couldn't pretend to be two people. He wasn't.
"Alright, Katie," he said finally, an hour or so into our research, "Are you going to tell me why you're so mad at me?"
You know why, I thought, but refused to say anything. I looked straight into his eyes, and lied. "I'm not."
He raised his eyebrows, "You're lying."
"I'm not," I shrugged. "I just realized that it's pointless for me to bother."
"With me?"
"With anyone."
He shook his head, "Cutting yourself off isn't going to make things any easier."
"I'm doing fine," I said pleasantly, turning back to my book.
He sighed loudly and pulled the book away, "You're not."
"You don't know—" I started, but realized quickly how angry I sounded. "I'll be gone in a couple months. There's no point."
"What changed?" he asked. "You were… yesterday… things were good. Fun. What happened?"
You happened, I thought. "Nothing. Things just got a lot… clearer today."
His eyes clouded momentarily. He hesitated before speaking, "Listen, Katie, if it's about this morning, I—"
"Can I have my book back?" I cut him off, desperately wanting to avoid his excuses. He looked at me, his eyes narrowed, before he gave up, handing the book back in defeat. We worked together for another hour or so before I decided to leave, not wanting to extend the torture any longer.
He walked me to the door, watching me closely as I slipped my shoes on. "We're all leaving in a couple of months, Katie. This time, you're not any different."
"Except that I've done it before, and I know what it feels like," I said, my voice indifferent. He seemed to have nothing to say to that, so I walked to my car, feeling his eyes on me the whole time.
I avoided Casey for the rest of the week. It wasn't difficult—he didn't seem to be seeking me out. He went out for lunch all week with Blondie and a couple friends; I stayed on campus with the girls. Thankfully, Ms. Steinberg didn't give us any more time to work on our project in class so we didn't have to face each other at all in there. In English and Calculus, we sat on opposite sides of the room.
I couldn't wait for my trip to Chicago. I had been talking to Erin nearly every night and though I didn't mention Casey, she knew something was wrong. I just didn't want to admit it to myself.
Friday night, Kari, Erica, Stephanie, and I were having a movie night at my apartment. Stephanie rode with me straight to my place; Kari and Erica wouldn't be over for a couple of hours.
Stephanie was lying on her back on my bed, staring at the ceiling. I relaxed on the floor, half watching the TV show we muted.
"What's the deal with you and Casey?" Stephanie asked, her voice rushed. I titled my head to look at her. She and the other girls had been biting their tongues all week and though I knew it, I didn't want to play into their gossip now.
"Nothing," I said.
"C'mon, Katie," Stephanie looked at me pointedly. "You guys couldn't be trying to ignore each other harder. What happened?"
"I can't stand the way he thinks he's great. He's not any better than any of the other guys at this school."
"He's the only one you've seemed to notice," she said bluntly. I reeled at that. He wasn't the only guy I'd noticed, was he?
"What about Blondie?" I asked her.
"What's his actual name, Katie?"
"Umm…" I trailed off. I didn't know.
Stephanie smiled knowingly. "It's Chris."
"I knew that," I snapped. "Fine. Casey's captured my attention. That doesn't mean anything. I don't have any feelings for him, if that's what you're getting at." She raised her eyebrows at me, skeptical. I groaned. "Why is everyone so insistent that there's something going on? Am I really the first person that hasn't taken an immediate liking to him?"
She shrugged. "I don't know. It's just that you both are so adamant about there being nothing there that it seems like you're trying too hard."
"Both?" I asked. Casey had said something? He seemed to want there to be something between us. At least, that was the impression he had given me by asking me to prom. She raised her eyebrows again. "Am I seriously not allowed to be curious? I can't want to know what he's saying about me?"
"If it was anyone else, you wouldn't care."
"That's because no one else has—" I cut myself off.
"Has what?"
I shook my head. "Forget it."
"Fine," Stephanie said, smiling knowingly. "You just might want to prepare yourself for when his selfish arrogance becomes charming confidence. Because it will." There was no sense of malice in her tone; she was saying it as if it was a rite of passage. She was saying it as if she knew.
"How long have you liked him?" I asked her cautiously. I had expected her to look surprised, to deny it, but she smiled brightly and relaxed, as if someone realizing it took the burden of the secret away.
"Since last summer," she said, but gave no more information.
"Does he know?" I asked, curiosity getting the best of me
.
She shook her head. "I like him, but I'm not stupid. Casey isn't a long-term relationship kinda guy, and I don't want to get my heart broken. This unrequited love thing isn't so bad when you have the kind of perspective I do."
"What about Kari and Erica?"
She shrugged, "They might suspect. I don't know. I've never confirmed or denied anything. It's nice that someone knows. And since you two refuse to even look at each other, I don't have to worry too much about you telling him."
I smiled sadly, "No, you don't."
Dad made the four of us breakfast in the morning. He seemed so thrilled to see me at ease with them that he seemed to be enjoying their company as well. Kari hadn't lessened her flirting, but I found it didn't bother me as much as it first did. I hadn't seen my father blush since Mom…
I shook my head and took a sip of my apple juice. It wasn't long before the girls left, each having separate plans for the day. I didn't mind; it was the first day my dad had off since we'd moved to Wisconsin. I was looking forward to spending some time with him.
I took a shower after the girls left, enjoying the warm water. When I finally emerged, my father was sitting on the couch, a newspaper in his hands, but he wasn't looking at it.
"A letter came for you," he said carefully, nodding at the coffee table. His eyes didn't leave the envelope as I approached it.
I glanced down at it, figuring it was something from Erin, or the couple of people around the world that I kept occasional contact with.
It wasn't.
I recognized her scroll immediately; I stared at the envelope for what felt like forever. I could feel my father's eyes on me. Eventually, I picked it up by the corner, brought it to the trash can, and threw it away unopened.
"Open it, Kathryn," my dad said wearily. He never called me Kathryn—that was her name.
"Why?"
"It's from your mother," he said sternly. "She deserves better."
"She deserves nothing," I spat, though I picked the letter from the trash. I dropped it in my dad's lap. "You read it. I don't care what she has to say."
"Kathryn!" he exclaimed sharply. "You will treat your mother with more respect."
"Respect is earned, Dad. I don't just give it away. She left and she lost it. It has nothing to do with me."
"Just read it," he said, sounding exhausted.
I shook my head as he placed the letter in my lap. I dropped it on the table as if it held some kind of contagious disease. "She's not going to play me into thinking she cares. She never would've left if she did."
"It's a hard life, Katie," my dad was grasping for excuses now, just as he always had when it came to my mother.
"Don't you think I know that? I never complain. I've never once thought about leaving, or asking to stay somewhere else. She had… she left us, Dad. She left. I can't excuse that… and I wish you wouldn't either."
It happened nearly five years ago. We just moved to Florida from Siberia and while I thought of it as any other place, Mom didn't. She grew up in Florida; it felt too much like home to her. When it was time to leave a couple months later, she was nowhere to be found. All she left was a note saying she was staying in Florida. No contact information, no 'I love you'. Just like that, she was out of my life. A couple months later, Dad was served with divorce papers. It tore him apart, though he never let it show. And he never let go. He still hoped that she would come back, that they could be together, but I knew it wouldn't happen. She was still in Florida, if the postmark was any indication, and had probably started a new family. We were an afterthought, a shadow, and I wouldn't take it.
"She loves you, Katie," my dad told me.
"You love me, Dad," I responded. "What she feels is guilt. Guilt for leaving her daughter, and rightfully so, but I don't need her. I don't want her. I only need you."
He buried his head in his hands and didn't say another word. I got up, pulled on a pair of shoes, and left the apartment. I needed a walk. I couldn't stay there with him while he made excuses for her. He hadn't been happy, not really, since she left. Sometimes I thought it meant that I wasn't enough for him, but I knew that wasn't true. He was still in love with her.
It was confusing. How could he still love someone so deeply when I wasn't sure I loved her at all? Was it wrong to question love for someone responsible for my life? Should I feel guilty? Did I have to love her? Why was it required that I cared about her? I certainly didn't get to choose who I was born to.
I didn't return for hours, but when I did, my dad was nowhere in sight, the letter still unopened on the table.
Chapter Six
Spring fever was rampant at McCormack High.
With only five days standing between us and spring break, we were getting restless. I found it impossible to concentrate in any of my classes the first three days of the week. By the time Thursday came around, I couldn't take it anymore. I faked sick, called myself in to school, and decided to spend the day around town. It was a gorgeous spring day and I wasn't in the mood to spend it cooped up inside that stupid building any longer.
It was immediately apparent that I wasn't the only one with the idea.
"Skipping, are we, Katie?" Casey smirked.
I ignored him, continuing to swing leisurely. I had come to the park on a whim, wanting to indulge my childish side. I was feeling a little rebellious also; I had never skipped a whole day of school before.
He dropped into the swing next to me and I restrained myself from sighing. Things were going so well when we ignored each other. Of course he had to go and ruin it two days before I left for Chicago.
Things with my dad had been strained at best—he was still upset that I refused to read the letter my mother had sent; I was upset that he expected me to. He almost seemed relieved that I would be leaving and it hurt a little. It was beginning to feel like he was going to be glad to be rid of me while I didn't know how I was going to survive without him.
"That's my sister over there," Casey said, pointing at a young blonde girl I remembered from the picture on his computer's desktop. She couldn't be older than eight and she seemed to be having a great time playing with their dog. I wished for a moment that I could be her age again. I missed the carefree feeling of childhood. I was forced to grow up too fast and realizing it now made it much harder.
I didn't respond again. I wasn't ignoring him this time; I just didn't know what to say.
He wasn't aware of that, however, and ran his hand through his hair roughly. It was evident he was frustrated, but I wasn't nice enough to save him. "Listen, I'm sorry, alright? I'm an ass, I know. I just… it's…" he looked at me for help, but I didn't offer any. To be honest, I was enjoying watching him squirm. "Why don't you like me?"
He sounded so vulnerable, so unsure of himself, that I actually answered. "Because you're an ass."
He groaned, "Katie…"
"No, you said it. It's true. You're an ass who thinks he's better than everyone else. You're not, Casey. And you can be all nice and sweet right now, and that's fine, but the second we're around any of your friends again, it's back into the ass I know you are. It's not worth it," I said, my voice indifferent. I had been right in assuming that it would be my indifference that would bother him more than anything. He looked ready to rip his hair out.
"Why has no one else ever called me on this before?" he asked, but he wasn't asking me. He seemed honestly perturbed that no one had pointed out his behavior.
"Because they adore you," I answered anyway. "They all adore you."
"Not you," he said quietly.
I shrugged. It wasn't like he was wrong.
"Can I tell you something?"
I shrugged again. I was curious, but I didn't want him to know that. I had a feeling if I had said no, he probably would have told me anyway, so it didn't make much of a difference.
He averted his eyes to his sister before he spoke. "I'd trade them all—all of those people you say adore me—for you to show me anything besides indifference. I'd
rather have you hate me than to act like I'm wasting your time."
I shook my head. "Stop."
"Stop what?" he sounded genuinely confused. I could feel his gorgeous blue eyes on me again and I couldn't look at him.
"Stop acting like you care. You don't know a thing about me."
"I want to."
"No," I snapped, "The only reason you're bothering with me at all is because I'm a challenge. No one else has stood up to you before and you don't know what to do with yourself, do you, Casey? You've gotta make me into one of your admirers and as soon as you do, I'll just be another one of them. It's not me you care about. It's yourself."