Must Be a Mistake

by Fiona West

  Standing there, seeing him so livid, so incensed, she asked herself what she’d been thinking. Her whole life was out there in the community . . . and if her whole life was destined to meld with his, then obviously, they were going to have to be seen together. It shouldn’t feel like a risk, sitting with someone at the setup dinner. But it did. It felt like walking a tightrope sans balance pole.

  “Come with me on my run.”

  He gave her a quizzical look, then gestured to his clothing. He was in a T-shirt and jeans.

  “So go home and change.”

  “And you won’t leave without me?”

  “No.”

  “And you’ll open the door again when I get back?”

  She scowled. “Yes.”

  He held up his hands in innocence. “Hey, when someone is avoiding you for unknown reasons, these questions must be asked.” He put his hand on the door. “I’ll see you in twenty.”

  He managed it in seventeen. He must’ve barely even paused to hydrate . . . maybe he didn’t believe that she’d be here, she thought, ashamed. She should’ve just talked to him before now, but . . . it hurt.

  Kyle paused next to her. “Well?”

  “Stop being a jerk, Kyle,” she said, as she began to jog down the street. He caught up with her quickly.

  “I’m being a jerk?”

  “Yes,” she puffed, “you are.” She was quiet for a minute, then turned into the park. “Nine years ago, I was in a relationship. At least, I thought I was. Apparently, he had other thoughts on the matter.”

  “Who are you talking about? Not Daniel?”

  She huffed out a laugh. “Heck no, not Daniel. I love your brother, but he’s . . .”

  “Goofy.”

  “Yes.”

  She paused again. It was a little easier, not having to see his face. She tried to take a deep breath, but her breaths were already deep as her body eased into its running rhythm. “I thought we were dating, but apparently, Shane didn’t.”

  “Shane Burgess? The All-State defensive back?”

  “Yes. And when I showed up to support him at a football game with a sign that said ‘That’s my boyfriend,’ I found out just how wrong I’d been. Complete with memes and assorted internet bullying.” They called it pulling an Ainsley . . . The meme said “TFW he’s not actually” with a picture of her crestfallen face still holding her sign. She hadn’t seen it around lately, but it still circulated occasionally.

  Kyle was silent.

  “So going public with a relationship is not easy for me.” She cleared her throat. “I wish it was. I wish I could just parade around town with Timber Falls’ most eligible bachelor and not care what anyone thinks, but . . .”

  “But you do care.”

  “Yes.” She panted. “I do care. I don’t want that to happen again, ever. And you and me, it just makes no sense. I’m not ragging on myself, I think I’m reasonably attractive. We just run in different circles, and there’s so many other girls who’d be a better fit for someone like you . . .”

  “Someone like me.” He said the words flatly.

  “Yes. You’re a doctor. I don’t think I act like a doctor’s wife.” Her heart, which was already beating out of her chest, began flailing around like a firefly trapped in a jar. “Kyle . . . do you get what I’m saying at all?”

  Their synced footfalls quieted as they transitioned to the thick yellow fallen pine needles on the trail, and she put on more speed to stay with him as they ascended the steepest part of the path. At the top, breathing hard, but not as hard as she was, he stopped. He clasped his hands together behind his head, walking in a circle.

  “That’s messed up, Ains. And it’s even more messed up that you didn’t just talk to me about it.” For someone who usually communicated in quips and grunts, he seemed to have found some vault of angry words to cash out. “How could you think I would do that to you? How could you think I’m that kind of person? I’ve been as overt as I can be about how much I like you, Ainsley. I’ve practically tattooed it on my forehead, and it’s not good enough for you.”

  She felt her chin quivering. “Well, not as overt . . .”

  He stopped pacing. “What?”

  Her mind knew what needed to be said, but her lips balked, hating the taste of the words on her tongue.

  “You’ve never called me your girlfriend. You’ve never said . . .”

  His face reddened with barely controlled rage. “So you won’t be seen with me in public because I haven’t said I love you? Is that—is that what I’m supposed to take away from this?”

  “No! I mean . . .” She felt her lip quivering, and she bit it. “I don’t know. I was wrong before, with Shane. I just don’t want to get ahead of myself again.”

  “Wow.” He pressed his fingers into his closed eyes, then wiped down his face. “I should not have done this now. I’m going home.”

  “Will I see you tonight?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Her stomach tightened. “Tomorrow night?”

  “I don’t know.” He turned and headed back down the hill before she could say anything more.

  DRIP, DRIP, DRIP. The gutters were leaking again outside her classroom. Her kids were outside for their afternoon recess, and without the urgency of eager young minds in front of her, she couldn’t focus on anything. As it was, she’d had enough trouble getting through the morning: she put up the wrong date, she misspelled terrible when Rio asked her during reading time (teribble? It hadn’t seemed right, but . . . ). And of course, today happened to be one of her principal’s “drop in and observe you teaching when you don’t know I’m coming” days. She’d need her endorsement if she went for her national certificate. It was just another trophy, really. She would never leave Timber Falls, not even for love. Especially when the person I love loves it here as much as I do. Maybe she’d just assumed that; Kyle didn’t show up to a lot of town events. But he cared about the town—she knew he did. Didn’t his plans to stay say it all? Rural medicine was not for the faint of heart.

  I screwed this up, she thought as she stared out the window at the flowering plum trees outside her window. I should’ve just been upfront with Kyle about it. More than that, I should’ve shown him. Well, it wasn’t too late, certainly. Slowly, she turned to her computer and opened an incognito browser. She couldn’t have it coming back to anyone by any means that she was googling herself. Into the search bar, she typed “TFW your boyfriend isn’t after all.” There it was. Her blonde hair in pigtails, Timber Falls Football face paint not masking her horrified expression. Her shoulders slumped, her sign that said “That’s my boyfriend” drooping. Ainsley’s finger hovered over the “Share” button, hesitating. Was it necessary, really? And did she want him to see her that way? As an object of ridicule?

  Ainsley had always thought that if she were bullied, it’d happen nemesis-style, more like her problems with Ranger. You know, one big, bad enemy who she’d rubbed the wrong way with a flippant comment about their physical appearance. Someone she’d tripped by accident in the hall or whose french fries she dumped in the cafeteria while showing off her dance moves. She never expected it to be such a group effort, to be so virulently singled out by so many people. To be whispered about and dragged through the mud so publicly, yet so anonymously. It was like trying to fight a ghost; she’d reported the first few posts to the school, but after the bullies started using fake profiles, there was nothing to do but block them and move on with her life. Which wasn’t easy when the messages they sent kept coming . . . “So pathetic.” “If I were you, I’d kill myself.” “That guy? Your boyfriend? What were you thinking?” Notes stuffed in the crack of her locker, videos of her running from the field posted for all to see, taunting emails sent from throwaway accounts. That word, throwaway; it made it all sound more innocent than it was. Because while they might have thrown those words out, laughing, when they landed, they scalded her. Being an object of mockery changed her. And there was just so much of it. They’d piled o
n her, relieved that it wasn’t them who’d made the mistake, happy to have someone else look like a fool.

  She closed the window without sending him anything; he could google it if he wanted to see. Kyle would come back around. Probably. Ainsley put her head down on her desk, trying to let the cold of the classroom seep deeper into her. Maybe she wouldn’t feel so much then. Just go numb to all of it. She’d never found a way to dull the pain, actually. She’d tried drinking briefly, but she hated vomiting and seemed to have a very low tolerance . . . another short-girl problem, maybe. With a sigh, she stood and ambled down the hall to pick up her kids at the doors to the playground. They seemed more subdued than usual, and she wondered if they’d caught her gloomy mood. She’d never understood why people bothered to try to hide things like that from kids; they weren’t stupid. In fact, sometimes, they were more in tune with the world around them, and that included people. Then again, sometimes they just wanted to color Frozen pictures without being interrupted.

  Annabeth slipped a hand into hers and smiled up at her. Ainsley smiled back.

  But inside? Inside, she was broken thinking about how she’d rejected Kyle because of her own insecurities. Hadn’t she put him through the same kind of rejection she’d felt, all those years ago?

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  MUCH TO AINSLEY’S DELIGHT, Bilqiis and Fawzia agreed to come to the fall festival in Timber Falls. And the atmosphere did not disappoint: all of downtown had orange and purple lights leading to the high school gym, and outside, the weather was nice enough to have booths and stalls set up for all kinds of activities: apple bobbing, popcorn, a pie contest, and even a dunk tank despite the chill in the air. Ainsley was torn away as soon as she arrived, her help needed with several booths that hadn’t been set up yet, so she encouraged them to wander around and take it all in, shoving a few tickets in their hands. She was bent over, trying to get an extension cord connected, when she heard Ranger’s voice.

  “What are you hiding under that head covering, anyway? Why don’t you take it off for us?” She looked up in time to see Bilqiis dodge his hand as he reached for her scarf, and Ainsley could see that her fingers were shaking hard as she touched it to make sure it hadn’t shifted. Ranger’s back was to her. It wasn’t a fair fight in any way if she started when his back was turned, and her dad had taught her to always start a fight to someone’s face; you could do more damage and have less liability.

  “Hey! Toilet paper brain!” Okay, maybe the kids’ insults were rubbing off on her a tiny bit. “Why don’t you leave her alone? There’s lots of candy around for good boys and girls. If you walk away now, you can have some, too.” This was not active bystander behavior, she thought as he turned to her, his gaze livid. He kept himself between her and Bilqiis, and it was really messed up how badly Ainsley just wanted to knock him down to get to her. But he was basically a less handsome Mr. Clean, so she thought she’d better not try.

  “Stay out of this, Buchanan.”

  “Can’t. Sorry. I was in it the moment you started to pick on my friend. It’s a solidarity thing. You understand.” With the hand still at her side, she motioned for Bilqiis to take off, but her friend hesitated. Go. Go, Bilqiis. Slip away while his back is turned.

  “It’s just hair. Does she not realize that hair isn’t private?” he sneered.

  “First of all, you don’t need to talk about her like she isn’t here. And secondly, I know you’ve got hair in places I don’t want to see, so maybe we just can just agree that some hair is private.” Behind him, she saw Bilqiis laugh a little, then push back her shoulders and tap Ranger on the shoulder.

  He turned back to Bilqiis slowly. “What?”

  “I am not hiding anything. In fact, I am putting on display the beautiful culture that I come from. I am showing you that being a Muslim does not mean I am a terrorist, that most Muslim people are peaceful. I am showing you what it means to be a woman in a different way. If it makes you uncomfortable, I am sorry, but it is my right. It is my right.”

  Fawzia’s eyes were huge as she listened to her mother’s speech, and Ainsley wondered what was happening in her head. Would she understand later on what her mother had done? Would she look back and draw strength from this moment when she was grown? Bilqiis took her daughter’s hand and dragged her toward the kettle corn, Fawzia still looking at Ranger and Ainsley in slack-jawed wonder. Ranger seemed pretty shocked himself, and with Bilqiis now at a safe distance, he rounded on Ainsley.

  “Of course you’d take their side.” With two giant steps, they were nose to nose, and Ainsley’s heart was beating so hard, she could hear it in her own ears. Many people have a little voice in their heads that in this situation would tell them to run or retreat. Ainsley did not have that voice.

  “Get out of my face, Zane. I’m warning you.” She must have looked like a hobbit to him: a foot shorter, staring up at him with ire in her gaze. “My dad’s a cop. He made me take self-defense classes from the time I could talk.”

  “And yet you’ve been mouthing off ever since.” He pushed on her shoulder, and it took her a second to regain her balance. Sweat broke out on her forehead despite the cool fall weather. “Always putting your nose where it doesn’t belong. Maybe I should do something about it.”

  She pushed on his chest with both hands as hard as she could, and only managed to send him one step backward. “You’re welcome to that opinion. Just stay away from me and my friend, and we won’t have a problem.”

  His nostrils flared, his shoulders came up, and he took another step as if to push her back, but she was ready for him this time. She lifted her running shoe and brought it down hard on the bridge of his foot. Ranger let out a string of curses and doubled over. That move did really hurt: she knew because she’d tried it on her brother, Travis, once, and he couldn’t wear tennis shoes for a week because of the bruising. Had to wear flip-flops in forty-degree weather. Served him right for stealing her authentic Lord of the Rings elven pin off her backpack.

  “What’s going on here?” Officer Painter was striding over with Kyle hot on her heels.

  “She assaulted me!” Ranger shouted, sitting down hard, and Ainsley rolled her eyes.

  “He’s been harassing women in the community for months, and he was doing it again today. Got right in my face and shoved my shoulder, so I used a nonlethal self-defense technique.”

  Lizzie eyed them both as Ranger continued to curse softly and hold his foot. “Yes, it certainly seems nonlethal.”

  “He threatened her, too, I heard him!” piped up Mrs. Renfro. “Said maybe he’d do something about her, Officer! That’s a threat!”

  Lizzie held up her hands for quiet. “All right, both of you, come on over to the squad car, and I’ll get your statements. Mrs. Renfro, you too, please, since you were a witness. The rest of you, go back to your festivities.”

  Everyone obeyed; they’d seen her take Chase Carpenter down last year when he was tripping on drugs at the town’s centennial celebration. The cute freckles sprinkled on her nose camouflaged a lady who excelled at her chosen profession.

  Ainsley followed Lizzie across the street and Ranger limped along behind. Kyle was just behind her; if his scowl got any deeper, he was going to dent his face. His voice was low, but he articulated his thoughts just fine.

  “I can’t believe you. That was the stupidest, most foolhardy, reckless thing I’ve ever seen you do, and that’s saying something, because you have done some insanely stupid things. But this takes the cake, Ainsley. You just picked a fight with a man with a history of violence who’s twice your size.” The adrenaline was starting to wane, and it left her feeling shaky and nauseated. Kyle’s lectures were the last thing she needed right now.

  “You can go back to your tent now.” There was no fight in the statement, just a quiet refusal to engage.

  He stared at her, hands on his hips, eyes burning with frustration. “Go back to my—so I’m dismissed, is that it? I saved you from getting pounded, and now I’m excused?
Damn it, Ainsley, you’re the most infuriating person I’ve ever met. When are you going to get it through your head that you’re important to me? Important to lots of people who don’t want to see your skull bashed in? I can’t be the first person to tell you this. When are you going to wake up and see that I actually care about you?”

  “I don’t know, it’d probably help if you actually said the words from time to time,” she retorted.

  “Are you kidding me right now? Are you fu—”

  Lizzie cleared her throat, and based on her clipboard and pen, she was ready to take Ainsley’s statement. “Maybe I’ll start with Ranger . . .”

  “No. Start with her. If you don’t, she’ll probably run out into traffic. But don’t worry, she’ll think she has a good reason, and she’ll do it alone.” He started to stride away, and something inside Ainsley just . . . snapped. Like a clothesline piled too heavy with wet clothes, worn from being in the sun, picked at by birds. She’d known she was holding on by a thread for a while, feeling frayed inside, but the snap still came as a surprise to her brain, which could not stop the angry words that tumbled out.

  “You know what?” she yelled at his back. “No one is going to bully me or my friends. No one.” She felt hot tears on her cheeks, and she wiped them off with the cuff of her long-sleeve T-shirt. “I lived in silence while my peers”—she gestured to the other festival-goers around them— “destroyed my confidence over a simple miscommunication between me and Shane. They tore me down and hurt me, and I said nothing—nothing—because I thought it would make it worse, and I literally couldn’t live with that.”

  Kyle had turned back, and he was staring at her, wide-eyed, his mouth agape. Kyle hates yelling. Stop yelling, especially since this has ceased to be about him. Her mouth, having seceded summarily from the rest of her body, continued to ignore the pleas of her brain for calm.

  “And do you know who would’ve helped me, if I’d asked? My parents, my friends, my counselor, my teachers. All of them. All of them would’ve helped me. Even if they couldn’t have stopped the messages and the trolling and the memes, they would’ve hugged me and told me that it would be okay. They would’ve listened to me and believed me and assured me that I wasn’t crazy. Told me it was okay to be furious and sad and embarrassed.” She swiped at the tears again, hating them, hating that she was turning a fun town event into a drama fest. But she couldn’t let him walk away like that. “Instead, I was virtually alone, not knowing who was on my side and who was against me.”