And We Call It Love

by Vink, Amanda;

  Warm Feelings

  come to my chest: of being wanted, of being needed. But I haven’t seen Clare outside of school in more than a week. Can’t I help you tomorrow? I’ve been really looking forward to— Suddenly he is unbelievably angry, and he’s yelling. You don’t give a crap, do you? Heartless—that’s what you are. Go ahead, just leave then.

  I Am Stunned

  and a little angry that he’s putting me on the spot. I start to pack up my things to leave, when he changes, suddenly sweet. Zari, he says. I’m so sorry. I can’t believe I said that. You can’t leave, not like this. Not after I acted that way. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. You know my dad’s been on my case about grades. I know it’s no excuse. Please don’t leave me.

  I Am Still Angry

  but no one is perfect. And my heart goes out to him. It’s true that his dad has the highest expectations for him. Even more than my parents have for me. I can’t imagine the pressure. While I am watching, Dion starts crying, and I feel bad. I take him in my arms. I didn’t realize how important it was, Dion. I’ll stay and help you. He wraps his arms around me. He says, You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. If you ever leave me, I don’t know what I’d do.

  A Text

  from Zari explains her situation, so I write her back: It’s fine. But it’s not fine because I’m getting fed up.

  Dion and Me

  We’re hanging on the couch, essay complete. I’ve got some advice for you, Dion says. My dad’s always saying you should surround yourself with only the best. A pause. Somehow I know what he’s about to say, but I hope it doesn’t come. Have you ever thought your mom might be right? About Clare, I mean. I turn away and pretend I didn’t hear. The way she wants to hang with you all the time, he says. It’s weird. If you love me, you’ll listen to me.

  How Can I Choose

  between two things that feel right? Between two people I love. I want to ask Dion why, but I worry about his temper. Success means focusing. That’s what my dad says. But how could life without Clare possibly be right?

  I Shoot a Text

  off into space to Zari. But I’ve given up expecting a response. It feels like I suddenly have the plague. A few moments later I’m sending another message: Did I do something wrong? There is no response.

  In School

  I try to catch up with Zari in between classes. She’s standing at her locker, scrolling through her phone. She notices me coming and scurries away before I can even get out a hey.

  The Next Event

  is running into Wilson as I head for the door. Our eyes meet, and he’s the first to look away. It’s way past time to get out of here.

  You’ve Been Home a Lot

  That’s what Mom says when she finds me and a carton of ice cream on the couch. With a bite of attitude, I say, Zari’s hanging out with Dion. Mom clicks her tongue, opens a book. It’s hard when your best friend gets serious with someone, she says. Remember friendship is a two-way street. Ouch. Trust me, the street sign here is one way, I say.

  When I See Clare

  I hear Dion’s voice in my head: I just want what’s best for you. I don’t know how to tell her we can’t hang out. I don’t know how she’ll react if I tell her that my parents and my boyfriend wish we weren’t friends. So I split.

  Ghosting

  I know it’s what I’m doing, but I don’t know how else to deal. If I hang out with Clare, everyone will know. My parents and Dion would be upset. I might even lose my internship if they thought I wasn’t serious about it.

  I’m Walking Out

  after school when Wilson catches up to me. Since that day on the street, I’ve done my best to ignore him. To pretend it didn’t hurt. It’s been easy because he has yet to even try to talk to me. But now, it seems like he wants to figure it out.

  I Try to Walk Faster

  before Wilson can even blurt out, Hey. And all the feelings hit me all at once. I’m sick of feeling like an afterthought. I’m sick of feeling like I’m not good enough, and I want to explode. So I do. You’ve got nerve, I say, to even try to talk to me.

  At Least

  he has the decency to look ashamed. He tries to say something, but then he stops. Finally: Do you know what’s going on with Zari? My temper flares. Why would I know? But something about the seriousness of his tone grabs me. What’s up? I ask. I thought she might’ve told you something. She seems super... distracted. Well, it’s nothing she’s telling me.

  Wilson Cooks Us Dinner

  Mac ’n’ cheese since my parents are at a book reading. Have you seen Clare? he asks. I shrug, since we both know the answer. He says, Don’t you care? You’re one to talk. I dare him to speak. He does. Boarding school. They’ll send me in a heartbeat. Probably because I’m not the perfect child. I wait, silent. They’d never send you away. he adds. Whatever. I’m going to work.

  Silence

  I don’t often get that when I sit down to write, but my mind is swimming in the facts of reality. Or is it drowning? Whatever it is, my notebook used to be a safe space and a comfort. But lately it’s been quiet. Clare sent me a text earlier in the day. It said, My mom’s graduation is in May. It would mean a lot to her if you came.

  What I’d Like to Write Back:

  I miss you. I’m sorry. The biggest one: I’m scared. I think of Wilson asking Don’t you care? So I respond: What day?

  Back and Forth

  we text. Even though I’m supposed to be working. It’s like I can breathe again. The words to her flow. The dings bounce around the huge Mallory library, and I turn the volume off. Still, my eyes track the incoming messages each time

  I Text Clare

  that I’m coming over. I have so much to tell her. So much to apologize for. I head to the bathroom, and when I come back, I can’t find my phone. Wait, it’s on the other table. Weird. I don’t remember putting it there. But I’m excited. I pull on my hoodie and make my way to the door.

  I Wait

  But Zari never shows up. We’re done, I’m ready to tell Zari the next day. I can see her from behind. Her curls bounce all around her head as she chats with Justine. Second chair, last row alto. I make my way across the music room, nerves so tight my shoulders hurt. You can do this, I think. I’m finally ready to put up a fight. To stage a debate. But I hear her say— Still can’t believe I fell into my bedpost— as she turns. My brain stops. There is a deep bruise that hides Zari’s left eye, like an apple that fell from some height. She looks away from me when she laughs, Silly, right? A full minute before my brain starts up again. Yeah, silly, I say. I’m sealing the deal of silence before I can stop myself. See, the thing is— Zari has no bedpost.

  Last Night

  I’m walking out of the Mallory Mansion when Dion pulls up. Where are you going? he wants to know through an open window. He’s freaking out, and I walk over to try to calm him down. Get in, he orders, and I listen because I don’t know what else to do. I slide onto the seat. Before I even close the door he’s driving, fast. Slow down, I say. But he doesn’t, not until he’s ready, and then he’s yelling, telling me, You liar. Did you think I wouldn’t know?

  You Think

  I wouldn’t figure out that you’re sneaking around behind my back? I try to explain myself until the crack of his fist on my face, the whiplash of my head smashing into glass. My ears are ringing. My vision’s white and finally, finally clears. It only takes a minute before Dion is clinging to my arm, saying, I’m so sorry. Forgive me. Please.

  His Hands

  soft on my other unbruised cheek. He wipes the tears from my eyes. I let him. But I know no one will understand when I tell them I did this to myself. I told a lie and received swift punishment. So I make up this story about what could’ve happened. And I hope no one looks too closely or digs too deep.

  Any Plan

  I had goes out the window. Because I don’t know what to do. The whole period, I keep watching her. She doesn’t look back at me. Clare, Ms. Dawson says, and the whole class— except Za
ri— looks at me. Pay attention. The whole day, it’s like I’m walking through a dream or maybe a nightmare.

  My Thoughts Bunch

  like yarn clinging to itself. I don’t realize I’ve left my jacket on until Mom asks if I plan on staying a while. Oh, yeah, I say. I’m sitting on the couch, face red from the heat of the house. Everything okay? she asks. She crosses the room and takes the coat from me. I watch her hands as she folds the jacket’s creases into their proper places. If I only had power to unwrinkle my life. Honey? she asks again. Waiting. I consider what I can and should say. You know you can tell me anything, she adds. I’m fine. Everything’s good, I tell her— my first big lie.

  Mom and Dad

  wanted to know what happened to my face. But they didn’t dig too deep into my response: that I tripped in the library of the Mallory Mansion. With Wilson, things were different. He knocked on my door to ask if I was alright. You know, he said, you can always talk to me. Thanks, I told him. But really, I’m okay.

  All Week

  Dion is kind and thoughtful. He helps me lay out the next issue of his dad’s online magazine. Hype up samples on social media. Make snappy posts and hashtags. Then afterward he drives to get us takeout. Chinese food with noodles as long as my arm. We slurp it down and laugh shyly when the broth flings across the room. I love you, Zari, he says, and I tell him, I love you, too.

  Sitting Still

  but my mind is flying 100 miles per hour. Videochat rings, which shakes me to the core. I expect Zari. I expect that she will ask to be rescued. That she will give me something to work with. Instead, it’s Wilson, and I’m both disappointed and excited. Hi, I answer. Hey. And then a pause. I want to see you. I forget how to breathe. My throat closes, and I’m just staring at the screen. OK.

  After School

  I catch Zari before she goes outside, since Dion picks her up every day. The bruise around her eye has turned sickly yellow, alert green. She smiles, maybe uncomfortably. Dion is probably waiting for me.

  Enter Wilson

  Suddenly he’s at my shoulder. I feel beaten up emotionally, and I’m surprised to find that his presence still makes me feel okay. We watch Zari get into the car with Dion, then we turn to each other.

  First Off

  Wilson begins, I am so sorry. This has been such a mess. My parents threatened to send me away if I kept seeing you… That explains a lot. And the thing is, I really miss you. He waits for me to say something. And I finally, finally tell it like it is. I say how I really feel: I am so pissed at you. You and your whole family have treated me like dirt, and no one deserves that. He winces, waits. But I’m willing to let you make it up to me. And we both smile.

  Second

  Wilson continues. What are we going to do about my sister and her jerk boyfriend? I tell the truth: I don’t know.

  Why Were You

  talking to her? Dion asks when I get in the car. Alarm bells in my head ring, and I’m quick to plead: I don’t know. She came up to talk to me. We both watch as Wilson and Clare talk, and I feel Dion’s grip on my knee tighten.

  I Am Putting

  my notebooks away with the promise that I will take them back out when I start to feel better. But I can’t imagine a time when my jaw doesn’t ache. When I don’t feel drained. I’m closing them into my dresser when the first one hits: My heartbeat like a galloping horse. I feel sick like I’m going to puke. The air I need is stuck in my throat. Maybe it’s because my chest is so tense, expanded to the point of pain.

  Then the Questions

  What’s happening? What if I can’t calm down? What if I always feel this way?

  Eventually

  I do calm down, and I find myself on the floor of my room. And it’s been minutes and not hours. I catch my breath in big heaping gulps until it returns to normal. A knock on the door. Mom. Honey, are you okay? It’s time for dinner. Inhale. Exhale. I’ll be right down, I try to say normally.

  An Open Internet Search:

  what to do if your friend is ignoring you is depressed is being abused I click on the last one, and read.

  Daddy’s Guitar Pick

  flips around my fingers. I haven’t tried to talk to him in a long while. Daddy, I tell the air, I’m sorry I wasn’t able to do more for you. Now I have the chance to help a friend. What do I do?

  A Knock on My Door

  Not right now, I say. But Wilson comes in anyway. He puts his hands in his pockets to stop fidgeting. What’s going on with you? he asks. Nothing, I say. I’m just trying to get some work done. He stares at me, studying. Go away, I say. It seems like forever before he finally does.

  I’m Pretending

  to get work done when Irving Mallory comes in. He’s got my latest post printed and in hand. He sighs and puts it down on the table. It’s not your best, he says. Dion has a funny look on his face. An almost-smile or something.

  Weeks Later

  I keep messing up. I keep making Dion angry. Each time he tells me how I’m wrong. When I think of leaving, he’s already there, either with kind words or with this thought: I need you. If you leave me, I’ll kill you.

  It’s Lunchtime

  and I’m hiding in the bathroom because I just don’t want to deal with anyone. The world is less complicated the fewer people are in it.

  Zari?

  It’s Clare. Zari, I know you’re in here. I try to wait her out, but she’s just not going anywhere. I exit the stall.

  The Word’s Out

  She’s dating my brother, though he can’t exactly take her out. I’m angry at him and I’m angry at her. Not sure for what. But mostly I’m angry at myself.

  She Looks Awful

  Bags under bloodshot eyes. A fresh bruise peeking out from under a sleeve. What do you want? she asks. I brace myself, get ready for a debate. What’s best for you, I say. You don’t seem okay. I’m fine, she says. Zari, I just want you to know that you don’t have to stay with him. Why can’t you just believe me? Zari asks. Did your boyfriend put you up to this? Look, we’ve been friends long enough for me to know when something’s wrong. Maybe you don’t know me as well as you think.

  She Can’t Mean It

  and I think about how to change her mind. My argument: We’re a lot better together than apart. She looks strained. Clare, she says, and she starts to cry. Before she bolts, she says, I just can’t.

  Debate Lost

  Maybe I can’t do anything. But I can still try.

  Neon Lights

  announce my location: POLICE STATION. The bars that separate me and the policewoman behind the counter are striking. Can I help you? she asks in a no-room-forjokes kind of way.

  I Feel Like

  a fly pinned down under a bug swatter. She sizes me up— all the way from my ripped jeans to my pink-tinged hair. It’s uncomfortable to say the least. I hear myself trying to find the words to explain. My friend’s in danger. I don’t know what to do. But learning I’m not the victim, she says, There’s nothing I can do.

  At Home

  I don’t want to do anything. I don’t even play guitar. Instead I stare out the window, trying to come to terms with the fact that I’m powerless. And then I see the lone apple tree in my front yard. I hear my Mom’s voice ringing in my head: It’s difficult for a tree to survive without its support system.

  So I Buy a Sapling

  and I borrow the apartment complex’s shovel. It’s hard to dig. The earth is dry and set. The muscles of my arms hurt when I am done.

  What You Been Doing, Hun?

  Mom asks. I’m sitting in front of the trees, all muddy and pretty much just done. She drops her bookbag and sits with me right in the dirt. Mom. It’s all I can get out before I start to sob. Oh, honey, she says, and she wraps me tight. I need to tell you something, I finally say.

  It’s My Fault

  Daddy died because I didn’t do anything. And it’s my fault Zari’s stuck. I cry. I’m just not enough. I want to be bold, to help people, but I can’t. No— Mom says. You listen to me n
ow. It’s not your fault. You’re everything you need to be. Just being a friend and a daughter, you’re doing everything you need to do.

  Dion Drives Me Home

  Cheerful music plays in the car, and I try to fold myself into the fabric passenger seat. What’s wrong, babe? he asks. I’m feeling wrung out, but I have to give him something. I can’t write anymore. Give yourself a break. You’re the smartest woman I know, he says. He seems for real. It will come back.

  My Heart

  feels better when Dion is kind. He squeezes my hand, says, I love you.

  Mom Doesn’t

  tell me what to do. So I hold Daddy’s lucky pick to my heart and say: Any suggestions? Nothing. I collapse on the bed. Throw the pick across the room. Its diamond shape on the carpet is like a compass point.

  And I Get an Idea

  so I get my guitar, and I text Wilson. Be right there, he writes back.

  By the Time

  he gets there, I already have half a song planned out using my own words and my own feelings. Within an hour, we’ve got two verses and the chorus down. Ready? I ask. Ready, he says. And I hit record. This one’s for our best friend, Zari. When it’s over, together we hit SEND.

  I’m with Dion

  when I get a text from Wilson that tells me: Watch this. On my phone is a recording of my best friend and my brother and they’re singing me a song. We call it love, they sing.

  What Gets Me

  is not the melody. Not the rhymes. But the feeling and the knowledge that they’ve got my back. I don’t know why it’s taken me so long to figure this out.

  What Crap

  Dion laughs, and I pin him with a solid glare. What’s gotten into you? he asks. His eyes have turned steely cold. I need to go, I say.

  Dion Follows Me

  like any predator would.

  It’s Like a Circuit