The Trail Rules

by Melanie Hooyenga

  “You’re saying I love you too much?” Now his eyes are shining and I blink away tears.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “So that’s it?”

  “I wish things were different, but I haven’t been fair to you and I’m just trying to make it right.”

  He’s quiet for a moment and it’s like everything around us stops. The crickets, the wind rustling through the leaves—even my breathing. Finally he stands, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Can I have one more hug?”

  I step into his arms without hesitation and breathe deeply, memorizing his scent. Part of me is panicked that I just made the biggest mistake of my life, but when his arms wrap around me and his head tucks over mine, my chest constricts and I just want to run.

  His heart races against my chest and his shoulders shake once before he releases me, then he turns and walks away.

  I stand there until his taillights fade. Once I’m in my car, relief washes over me and I know I made the right decision. It’ll suck for a while, especially in Chemistry, but this is what’s right for me.

  Chapter 17

  The next morning, I text Cally. How am I supposed to face him?

  Say hi but nothing else.

  The three little dots bounce as she writes more. I finish putting on my makeup while I wait.

  This is worse for him.

  My stomach turns. Of course it is. I’ve spent the last twelve hours dreading school, but Evan’s the one who got dumped, not me. I feel like such a bitch.

  It sucks, but you did the right thing. But maybe…

  What?

  Don’t look too hot today. :P

  I pause with my mascara wand halfway to my face. I’ve already done one eye so I have to finish, but maybe I should swap out the skinny strap tank for a t-shirt. Good call.

  Gotta run. See you soon. xoxo

  xoxo

  I finish getting ready, but when I reach for my favorite t-shirt, I pause. The bright blue material reads “Chicks Dig Dirt” and I’ve loved it ever since Evan gave it to me. I toss it back in the drawer and opt for a plain green V-neck. I’ve probably worn it to his house a dozen times, but if I rule out everything he’s seen me in, I’ll have to go naked.

  I slink through the front doors of school expecting stares and whispers, but it’s just like any other day. Kids laugh and wave and shove books in their lockers, and no one gives me a second glance. Cally’s waiting for me at my locker, a latte in each hand.

  The knot in my stomach loosens—just a little. “Thanks.” I open my locker and take a coffee.

  “Thought you could use it.”

  I nod, taking a sip. “Have you seen him?”

  She shakes her head. “I told Blake, but made him swear not to tell anyone.”

  “Thanks. I don’t know what the protocol is, but I don’t want rumors slapping him in the face the minute he gets here.”

  We chat until the bell rings, then she wishes me luck and I head to homeroom.

  Nothing out of the ordinary happens in my first couple classes, but by the time the bell rings dismissing second period, my stomach’s so twisted I can barely stand upright. I hurry to class to get there before Evan, then open my book and pretend to be reading. It’s stupid—he’ll know I’m avoiding looking at him the minute he walks in, but I stare at the same paragraph until he sits next to me.

  “Hey,” I say softly.

  “Hey.” His voice is hoarse and I stupidly look up, right into his eyes. My heart thuds, but not from any kind of romantic reaction. This is pure guilt. For a second I consider taking it all back, telling him I still love him, but while that might ease his misery, it’d put me right back where I was. Then he looks away and stares at the front of the room for the rest of class.

  In the final seconds of class, Evan slides his notebook into his bag and rises as the bell rings, his bag slung over his shoulder. He doesn’t look back.

  I follow my classmates into the hall and go through the motions the rest of the day. At one point I see Andy, Evan’s brother, and hesitate, not sure how to react, but he waves and smiles like he always does. No one seems to be whispering about me, and I haven’t noticed any subtle glances as I walk from class to class. Evan, Cally, and Blake are the only ones who know about the breakup, and while I’m not surprised Evan hasn’t told anyone, it’s a strange but amazing feeling to have a best friend who doesn’t gossip about me.

  As I head home, I remind myself that I’m the one who did this and I probably don’t deserve to be moping, and even though I know for certain I don’t want to be with Evan anymore, I’m sad what we had is over. My legs itch to move, to be outside riding, but Cally will be busy for the rest of the school year.

  I text Alex when I get home. Can you ride tonight?

  Sorry, heading to work.

  Boo.

  You should stop by!

  I want to ask if Mica is working too, but that might be too forward. Besides I haven’t even been single for a full day. Not knowing if he’s there will be my penance for breaking Evan’s heart. I’ve had a rough 24 hours and need to move. I’m still afraid to ride the trails by myself.

  You shouldn’t be. Want to borrow Kurt?

  Ha, thanks. I might just go for a run.

  What happened?

  Broke up with Evan.

  You okay?

  Better than he is.

  Ouch.

  It’s what I want. I just feel bad.

  Breakups suck. I’m sorry.

  Thanks.

  Sure you don’t want to stop by? We can distract you…

  The ‘we’ can only mean one person. I shake my head, even though she can’t see me. I will soon, but not today.

  I’ll tell him you said hi. ;)

  I send the blushy-face emoji and turn off my phone, thoughts of Mica and new possibilities dancing with images of a heartbroken Evan.

  The next day, people definitely know about the breakup. We never reached celebrity couple name status—I’ve heard people call Blake and Cally Bally, which is just ridiculous—but I used to be popular and Evan still is, and kids like gossip.

  In homeroom, Hannah offers me her condolences and I kick myself again for not thinking of her when I wanted to ride last night. It’s a wonder I have any friends at all with the way I treat them. I pull out my phone and open the calendar. “Can we make plans to go riding?” I whisper.

  She laughs. “I thought you’d never ask. I’m on the Homecoming committee so this week is shot, but I’m free after this weekend.”

  Because Homecoming is four days away. I know I did the right thing by ending things before the dance, but I feel like a complete loser for not going.

  “How about next Tuesday? So a week from today.”

  I type her name in my calendar. “Perfect.”

  But my happiness fades in History. Brianna is in full I’m-going-to-be-queen mode—hair done, makeup perfect, and a killer outfit that shows off her body—and she gives me a look that says she can’t believe I’m such an idiot. Kenzie’s glare is particularly evil as she cuts down my aisle, bumping my arm with her hip as she sashays by.

  “Was that really necessary?” My voice comes out less confident than I hoped. I rub my thumb over my bracelet, the smooth grooves of the word Courage calming me.

  She pauses and looks down her nose at me to roll her eyes before continuing to her seat. One of these days her eyes will get stuck like that.

  I convince myself I’m imaging tiny pieces of paper bouncing off my back, but when I look down, it’s like a miniature snowball fight broke out beneath my desk. The guy behind me doesn’t bat an eye when I turn around, but bits of paper litter his notebook.

  He points at the back of his head. “You got some in your hair.”

  I let out a huff and run my fingers through my hair, adding another dozen to the collection at my feet. At least they aren’t wet.

  When class ends, neither of them look at me as they leave.

  I’m not so lucky in Ethics.

>   Brianna watches me from the moment we get to class, even when Miss Simpson starts her lecture on civil law versus moral law. After five minutes I finally snap.

  “What?!” I whisper yell. I hope my glare is half as effective as hers, but she just looks surprised.

  She looks down at her hands, which sit idly on her open notebook. “That was all Kenzie.”

  “Right.” I wish I’d picked up the pieces of paper so I could throw them at her now and wipe that superior look off her face.

  “I heard about you and Evan.”

  “Is that what this is about?”

  “Ladies,” Miss Simpson warns.

  Brianna shrugs. Part of me wants her to gloat and laugh and tell me I’m the stupidest person to walk the earth and she can’t believe she was ever friends with me, but while her blue eyes stay focused on mine, she doesn’t say anything else.

  I turn my attention to the front of the classroom and refuse to look at her again. When the bell rings, I’m only slightly surprised when she grabs my arm.

  “Are you okay?” she asks. Her eyes flick to my wrist, to my bracelet that’s just like hers.

  “I broke up with him.” I regret the words as soon as they leave my mouth. It shouldn’t matter and now everyone will know what a bitch I am.

  “Still, you’ve been together a long time.”

  I pull my arm out of her grasp. “And now we’re not.” I step into the hallway but she’s not done.

  “Let me know if you need to talk or anything.”

  I turn and face her. “Thanks, but I have friends who I trust. I don’t need you.” I start walking but her voice stops me.

  “Will you still be at Homecoming?”

  I freeze. “Is that what this is about? You need my vote?”

  She shakes her head, sending her blond hair tumbling forward over her shoulders, but I’m not buying it.

  “You wouldn’t have my vote even if I was there.” I turn my back on her and glide through the other students in a way I can only dream of passing people on the trails, but my adrenaline is blazing. I’ve only stood up to her like that once in my life and afterwards I nearly collapsed in a heap. If I can get to class before that happens, I’ll be golden.

  Except Evan’s already at our table.

  My legs shake as I cross the room, and I’m not sure if it’s from telling Brianna off or the way Evan is crumpled in his seat. This time I don’t say hello when I sit, and he pretends I’m not there. Until Treich announces we’re doing an experiment with our table-mates. We sat together so we could do these things together—and so he could help me get a decent grade—but now I’d do anything to switch tables.

  And based on the expression on his face, he’s thinking the same thing. But no one else is looking frantically around the room. We’re stuck.

  “I’ll get the equipment,” he murmurs, his tone flat. He returns with a wooden tray filled with beakers, two of which are filled with clear liquid.

  As Treich instructs us on the chemical properties and what will happen if we ingest them, I watch Evan. His eyes are still red, his skin kind of hangs from his face, and it looks like he hasn’t smiled in a year. The words “how are you doing” spring to my lips, but I swallow them back. He’s doing crappy, that’s how he’s doing, and I no longer have the right to ask.

  Evan picks up an eyedropper and inserts it into one of the tubes of liquid. “Did you want to do this?” His eyes are focused on the instruments.

  “Sorry, I spaced out during the instructions.”

  He lets out a sigh. “We’re supposed to put ten milliliters of liquid A into ten milliliters of liquid B.” He grabs a second eyedropper and hands it to me. Our fingers brush and he drops it on the table, jumping like I scalded him. He releases his liquid into an empty beaker and I quickly repeat his movements with liquid B. As soon as they combine, they turn a deep magenta. Several gasps sound around the room as other kids complete the assignment.

  “Now try it with 25 milliliters,” says Treich, a bright smile on his face.

  Evan relaxes as we continue with the experiments, and by the end of class he’s almost smiling. Science is his jam, as he always says, and I’m glad I’m not ruining it for him. When the bell rings, he pushes away from the desk and at the last minute says goodbye.

  “Bye,” I say, my attention on the tables of pink liquid. It’s crazy that they looked like water at the start of class. It just goes to show that you never know what’ll happen when you mix some things together.

  Chapter 18

  “Do I really have to curl my hair?” Cally’s standing in front of the bathroom mirror, her hands planted on the counter. I’m sitting on the toilet lid, serving as moral support.

  “You’re on the court. I think it’s a rule or something.” I know for a fact Brianna will be curled and teased until she looks like a Barbie, but I have no idea about the others. “On second thought, go straight. You don’t want to look like her.”

  Cally leans against the counter and studies me. “Are you just saying that ‘cause you’re sick of me whining about this?”

  I shake my head and smile. “Never.”

  She throws a hair tie at me and picks up a black lacy headband that matches her dress. She slips it over her head so its resting across her forehead. “You’re sure I’m not trying too hard with this?”

  “According to Google, that’s how flappers wore them. Besides, it won’t get in the way of the crown.”

  She rolls her eyes. “I’m so not winning. Honestly, I’ll be happy as long as anyone but Brianna wins.”

  A year ago I would have cowered at such a treasonous thought, but now my only reaction is a flutter of panic that I quickly squash. I touch my fingers to the word Courage around my wrist. I haven’t taken it off since I broke up with Evan. I can’t say I feel any stronger with it there, but so far it’s been a good reminder of what I’m capable of.

  Cally leans toward the mirror and widens her eyes. “I think this is as good as I’m gonna get.” She spins in a circle. “Did I miss anything?”

  Her dress hugs her body, showing off the curves she usually hides underneath jeans and sweaters. “You look so sophisticated.”

  Alarm crosses her face. “Is it too much? This is just a high school dance. I don’t want to look like I’m trying too hard.”

  I stand and touch her arm. “You look perfect. And,” I wink. “I can’t wait to see Blake’s reaction.”

  A blush colors her cheeks. “I can’t wait to see him in a suit,” she says, then grabs my hands. “Thank you so much for coming over. I hate that you won’t be there with me tonight, but all this would have been a disaster without your help.” She waves her hands at herself like she isn’t quite sure how she turned out looking the way she does. But she’s a total tomboy and there’s certain things she didn’t learn growing up without a mom or sister.

  I give her a hug. “I’m happy to help.”

  “You’re sure I can’t convince you to go stag?”

  I look down at my t-shirt and jeans. “I think there’s a dress code. Plus—” I lift my sleeve and show her my purple shoulder. “I think this might scare people.”

  “God, that looks awful.”

  “Not the best accessory for a fancy dress.”

  She sighs. “It won’t be the same without you.”

  For a second I wonder if she needs my support more than she’s letting on. “Do you really want me to come?”

  She shakes her head. “You don’t have a dress.”

  “I’m sure I could find something. It’s not like I’ve never dressed up before.”

  “No, it’s okay. I know you don’t want to go alone.” She’s not very convincing, but she’s right. I really don’t want to go alone.

  “I’d offer to video chat, but that might be weird.”

  That gets a laugh out of her. “I promise to text as soon as they announce the winner.”

  “And any other drama that unfolds.”

  “Of course.” She crisscro
sses her finger over her heart.

  I smack her butt. “Now let’s get downstairs so your dad can document this.” I follow her through the house to the living room where her dad, Tom, is waiting. He’s wearing a dark suit and tie and gasps when he sees her.

  “You look so much like your mother,” he says, his eyes shining.

  “Mom did not wear anything like this,” Cally says, but she looks pleased, turning to show off her dress. “You don’t look so bad yourself.”

  He presses a hand to his chest. “I take my chaperoning duties very seriously.” He moves closer and pulls her into his arms. “She’d be so proud of you, you know that, right?”

  It’s not the first time I’ve heard him say that, but I get a little choked up at his reaction. It’s been just the two of them since her mom died when she was little and they have this amazing connection that none of my other friends have with their parents. It’s like they skipped the whole I-hate-you phase and moved straight from childhood adoration to grown-up mutual respect. I wish my parents could see me the way he sees Cally, but I know she wishes she had both parents. It just proves that no one’s life is perfect, no matter how much it may look like it from the outside.

  There’s a knock on the door and Cally bolts out of her dad’s arms.

  “Wait,” he says. “Let me.”

  He strides to the door while Cally fidgets next to me. I elbow her. “Stop it, you look awesome.”

  “I feel stupid,” she whispers.

  Blake and Tom’s voices carry from the other room, then her dad leads him to us. Blake steps out from behind Tom and it’s like we’re in a teen romance movie. He’s wearing a dark suit and white shirt with the top button undone, exposing his neck, and he looks so comfortable in it, you’d never guess that he borrowed it from Evan. Cally’s hand flutters to her mouth while Blake’s eyes go wide, his smile growing larger with each passing second. They stare at each other for several heartbeats, still standing across the room from each other, until Cally closes the distance and kisses him on the cheek. I’d bet money that’s not where she’d kiss him if her dad wasn’t standing two feet away, and from the look on Blake’s face, I’m guessing they’ll be doing more than just cheek-kisses as soon as they step outside.