My Dilemma

by Pixie Perkins

  “You’re disturbing my breakfast,” I grumble, motioning to my oatmeal. “Go. Away.”

  “Are you mad?” Kyle asks, squinting at me from across the table. “Is that why your eyes look weird?”

  “Her eyes look weird because she went heavy with the eyeliner,” Hailee comments, pulling her phone out. “And the only reason she’s mad is because she’s knows that I’m right, which just kills her.”

  If she doesn’t shut up and leave me alone, I can’t be held responsible for my drastic actions.

  Kyle stirs his oatmeal for the umpteenth time. “Right about what?”

  And my eyeliner isn’t that heavy. I just couldn’t get my left eye to match my right one. Also, she’s one to talk! I’ve lost track of how many times she’s overdone her eye makeup.

  “Just eat your oatmeal, Kyle,” Hailee tells him with a loud huff, “this conversation is so beyond you.”

  Kyle sticks out his tongue at her as a response, but she’s too focused on her phone to notice him.

  “Are we almost done with breakfast?” Dad asks, poking his head into the dining room. “Hailee? Did you eat?”

  She tosses a hand up, waving it around indifferently. “Yeah. Sure, Dad.”

  Did she eat? Yes. Did she eat the “scheduled” oatmeal? No. Why? Because she didn’t want to, of course.

  “Why isn’t Mom home?” Kyle asks after swallowing some of his oatmeal.

  Except, he already knows why.

  “Bud, we talked about this last night,” Dad says, fully stepping into the room, “remember? Mom has some early work stuff to handle this morning.”

  See? He just likes being annoying. Hailee’s a bad influence on the kid.

  “But she’s going to pick me up from school, right?” Kyle raises an eyebrow at Dad. “Because I need a new pencil case, and Mom said we could get one today.”

  #secondgraderproblems.

  I mean, Dad is totally capable of going “pencil case shopping,” Kyle is just spoiled.

  “Yeah, Ky,” Dad drawls with a slight laugh, “Mom will pick you up from school. She and I already talked about it.

  Kyle lets out a dramatic sigh. “Oh, good.”

  “And how is Megan doing this morning?” Dad asks, raising an eyebrow at me. “Everything okay?”

  “She’s mad because Hailee’s right,” Kyle pipes up, his mouth half-full of oatmeal, “and it just kills her.”

  Hailee glares at him for his poor impersonation of her, while Dad looks straight-up confused. “Right about what?”

  “I asked the same thing!” Kyle exclaims, making a frustrated noise. “But Hailee said it was beyond me…whatever that means.”

  “I’m fine,” I answer Dad’s original question, “everything’s fine.”

  “Denial,” Hailee fake-coughs over the word.

  “Wha—”

  “Hey, Dad,” I interrupt him, shooting a discreet glare at Hailee, “what was the name of that bird you were talking about last night at dinner? The one you and Kyle didn’t get to see at the exhibit?”

  Hailee rolls her eyes. “I’m going to my room. Let me know when we’re leaving.”

  And just like that, the older sister prevails.

  Unfortunately, though, the rest of breakfast is spent with Dad’s cringe-inducing bird talk, and I’m honestly sorry that I started the conversation in the first place. I’m even more sorry when the said bird talk continues in the car, and then lasts for the whole car ride.

  Is it crazy that I’d prefer Hailee’s off-key singing? Yes.

  But I can only take so much of: “that’s why birds…” and “what most people don’t know about birds, is…”

  Even Kyle looks like he’s going to be sick.

  We finally arrive at Robinson High, and I waste no time in clicking my seatbelt off so I can GET OUT OF THIS CAR.

  “Have a great day, Meg,” Dad says, managing to pause his bird-ish rambling.

  “You too, Dad,” I reply, opening the car door. “Good luck!”

  He laughs at that as I slip out. “I think I’ll be fine…but thanks, Megan.”

  The “good luck” wasn’t for him though.

  I offer a brief smile before closing the door, and then I start walking toward the school building.

  “Hey, Megan!”

  Oh no.

  I wish I could act like I didn’t hear him, but he’s already too close for me to put the plan into action.

  Dang it.

  “Hello, Brayden,” I acknowledge him, trying to keep my voice even as he stops beside me.

  “Is there something I can help you with?”

  Like, possibly relocating back to Flemingsburg?

  “I just wanted to talk to you about your sudden change of heart,” he drawls, raising an eyebrow at me, “what’s up with that?”

  Not hot. Not hot. Not hot.

  I shrug, not really feeling like giving him an explanation.

  “You know what I’m talking about, Megan,” he says, now looking annoyed. “I was just messing around with you yesterday…but then you agreed that we actually are friends. Why?”

  “We don’t have to be if you’re not okay with it,” I reply in an airy tone, “that’s fine.”

  I would love that. I mean, if he doesn’t want to be “friends” with me, then it’ll be the perfect way for me to get out of the stupid deal with Lora.

  “I never said that.” He gives me a flat look. “I just want to know why you changed your mind.”

  “We’re not preteens anymore,” I echo Lora’s words from yesterday, “so I figured why not?”

  His eyes narrow some, as if he’s still trying to understand me. “Interesting.”

  “And since we’re on the topic of yesterday,” I say, forcing myself to ignore how close we are, “I really don’t think it’s necessary to talk about when we used to ‘date.’ Okay? So, let’s just leave that part of our lives in the past.”

  He crosses his arms, an amused smirk playing on his face. “I didn’t realize that me mentioning it bothered you so much.”

  Sure, he didn’t.

  So. Full. Of. It.

  “It didn’t bother me,” I lie, tilting my chin up, “I’d just rather focus on right now instead of way back when.”

  “Ah,” he responds with a nod, “well, I guess it makes sense that it didn’t bother you…considering you’re the one who broke up with me.”

  Focus on right now. Getting caught up in the past won’t do any good. Don’t let him get to you. He’s just being Brayden. You’re over him.

  “I’m going to be late for class.” I barely get the words out, fully aware that he’s eyeing me expectantly. “But I’m so glad we got all that cleared up. Bye, Brayden.”

  I proceed to step around him, then head straight inside.

  And if he was the one calling my name, I most definitely acted like I couldn’t hear him.

  ——————

  He keeps looking at me.

  Brayden.

  I’m surprised Mrs. Flint hasn’t called him out yet for not paying attention. He’s literally been doing it since class started, and it’s driving me crazy.

  It’s also bringing back memories of when we used to steal glances at each other during class in middle school. When we were “together.” Before he broke my heart. Before I broke up with him.

  Ugh, how dare he make me sound like the bad guy for breaking up with him! He was the one that ruined our relationship.

  Not. Me.

  Stop thinking about it.

  That’s impossible though.

  I might be totally over him, but I’m still mad as heck with how things went down between us. Which is stupid. It was middle school, for crying out loud! Why should I be mad about something that happened so long ago?

  I know exactly why I’m mad though. I’m still mad because it hurt.

  Was I naïve to think Brayden and I were going to be together forever? Yeah, of course. But I didn’t think he’d want another girlfriend so soon. I didn’t
think he’d ignore me after I broke up with him. And I definitely didn’t think he’d move away without even saying goodbye.

  All of that just hurt so bad.

  The bell rings, pulling me out of my inner-monologue, and I scoop my stuff up before making a hasty exit from the classroom. It doesn’t matter though because he catches up with me anyway.

  Why won’t he just leave me alone?

  “Megan,” Brayden says, moving to stand in front of me, “I think we should talk.”

  I force a slight laugh. “Didn’t we just talk before school started?”

  Good job, Meg. Keep it light-hearted.

  “Well, I called after you when you were going inside,” he drawls, slipping his free hand in his pocket, “but I guess you didn’t hear me…unless you were just ignoring me.”

  He gives me a knowing look, but I refuse to confirm his accurate suspicions. “What is it, Brayden? What did you want to say? Because I don’t have time for this.”

  “Relax, Feisty,” he tsks, shaking his head, “I’m not—”

  I can’t hear the rest of his words though as I step around him and continue walking down the hallway.

  The nerve…

  “Where are you going?” he asks, coming beside me once again. “I thought we were going to talk?”

  “I’ve told you several times to stop calling me that,” I snap, not bothering to look at him, “and you keep doing it anyway!”

  “I’m just teasing you, Meg,” he replies in his typical laidback manner, “it’s supposed to be funny.”

  “It’s not funny!” I hiss, turning to face him. “It’s annoying! Do you see me laughing? No. Why? Because it’s not funny!”

  I am so sick of him treating everything like a joke.

  Instead of saying anything, he just silently stands there, his hazel eyes shifting as they watch me—which is even more annoying.

  “What?” I ask with a curse. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

  “I—” He stops and licks his lips, which doesn’t have any effect on me…at all. “Can we start over?”

  Wait, what?

  “Uh…” I trail off, unsure of how I should respond. “I don’t understand.”

  “I know you’ve been pretty mad at me ever since you brought that blueberry bread to my house,” he says with a brief shrug, “especially after you realized who I was, but if we’re gonna be friends—I think starting over is a good idea.” He takes a step closer to me. “So, how ’bout it, Meg?”

  Deep down, I feel like there should be something shady about this. He does look really sincere though…

  Ugh, I hate making decisions like this!

  “Okay,” I find myself telling him, “we can start over.”

  He starts to say something, but I hold a finger up. “Except, we’re not doing the whole ‘re-introduce ourselves’ thing, that’s just weird.”

  “Agreed,” he replies, that sexy laugh of his making an appearance. “Well, I guess I’ll see you at lunch then?”

  Right. Because I’m supposed to be okay with us hanging out and making small talk.

  “Yep,” I drawl, failing to sound excited, “I’ll see you at lunch.”

  If I don’t completely lose my mind before then.

  Chapter 13: Keeping Tabs

  Oddly enough, we didn’t see each other at lunch.

  As a matter of fact, I don’t think Brayden ever came into the cafeteria—not that I was looking for him, because I wasn’t.

  Okay, fine. Maybe I was.

  But only so I could prepare myself!

  I’m just glad Lora was too busy with studying that she didn’t notice my frantic head-turning. Yeah, she actually used her lunch period for schoolwork. Sure, we chatted a little bit, but she was pretty set on getting extra study time in. And I know exactly why.

  She’s already sick of having Holt as her tutor.

  The more she studies, the sooner she can raise her grade. And the sooner she can raise her grade, the sooner she can ditch Holt because she won’t need a tutor anymore.

  I know her all too well.

  So, yeah, Brayden didn’t show up for lunch. But it doesn’t really matter because it’s not like I care or anything. And I’m not in denial either, contrary to popular belief.

  “Megan Taylor,” Coach Milton says my name, pointing a finger at me, “you and Holt Márquez will be partners for today’s class. Start with fifty push-ups.”

  Fifty what now?

  She continues to partner up the remaining students, and I walk over to where Holt is standing.

  I throw a careless hand up. “Hey.”

  But he’s too busy staring at Lora to acknowledge me.

  “Hey,” I repeat myself, this time with more force. I even wave a hand in front of his face. “Márquez. I’m talking to you.”

  “What?” he asks, finally focusing on me. “Oh, hey, Megan.”

  “We’re supposed to be partners,” I tell him, just in case he didn’t hear Coach Milton, “and she wants us to start with fifty push-ups.”

  Saying it out loud only makes is worse…

  “Right, right,” he replies, his attention back on Lora. “Sure thing.”

  “Dude,” I say, placing a hand on his shoulder,” I know you still have the hots for her and all…but you just look straight-up desperate when you watch her like that.”

  “I can’t help it.” He shakes his head with an exasperated sigh. “She’s perfect, Megan.”

  Clearly, he’s blinded by love. Because he knows just as well as I do that Lora has her faults.

  Like how she procrastinates a lot. Or how she tends to chew loudly. Or how she—oh, I don’t know—gives mixed messages with her terrible advice!

  “Let’s just do the push-ups,” he says, running a hand through his hair. “Do you want to go first?”

  Um, I don’t want to go at all.

  I motion to the large, blue-matted area. “You can go first.”

  He casts another longing look in Lora’s direction, and then he joins some of the other students on the mats.

  “Okay,” I drawl as he gets in position to do the push-ups, “start whenever you’re ready, and I’ll count.”

  So, he begins to do the push-ups—and to my surprise, he’s able to them with ease. How many has he done already?

  Ten?

  Eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen…

  “Hey, Meg,” he says, continuing to do push-ups, “can I ask you something?”

  Crap, is it sixteen now? Or eighteen?

  “Yeah, sure,” I reply, struggling to keep track of the number, “what’s up?”

  How is he able to do push-ups and talk at the same time? I can barely breathe and do them at the same time.

  “Do you think I have a shot with Lora?” he asks, doing yet another push-up. Was that number twenty-two? Or twenty-five? “Even if it’s just a small shot. I mean, she asked me to be her tutor, so that has to count for something…right?”

  Well, considering she only asked him because she wanted to prove a point to me—I’m gonna go with, no. Not really.

  “Holt.” I sigh, trying to decide if he’s already made it to thirty or not. “You know I don’t like getting involved when it comes to you and Lora.”

  As it is, I’ve bent my “stay-out-of-their-relationship-drama” rule a lot within these last few days…and I’m not looking to bend the rule completely.

  “Yeah, but this could be my second chance!” he insists, continuing to do perfect push-ups. “That’s why I need your help, Meg. How do I get her back?”

  Thirty-four, thirty-five, thirty-six…

  “What makes you think I know?” I ask, pointing to myself. “My dating record hasn’t had anything serious, Holt. I don’t think I’m the best person to get relationship advice from.”

  “Single people always give good relationship advice,” he states in a matter-of-fact way, “everyone knows that.”

  I roll my eyes at him even though he can’t see me. “Fine, you want my a
dvice?”

  “Yes, Megan,” he retorts, shooting me an annoyed look, “that’s why I asked for your help.”

  “Chill out, Márquez,” I tell him, crossing my arms, “or I’ll just keep all my single wisdom to myself.”

  “Sorry,” he apologizes, not sounding very sorry at all, “so what’s your advice?”

  “Stop trying so hard,” I reply with a shrug, “seriously…you’re coming off way too strong, man. Show her that you’re boyfriend material without totally driving her away. It’s not that complicated.”

  “Maybe you’re right,” he muses, doing another two push-ups, “maybe I just need to let it happen naturally.” He glances up at me. “Hey, how many have I done?”

  Crap.

  ——————

  “It was just an observant comment!” Lora exclaims through the phone. “That’s it!”

  “And I just think it’s interesting that you were watching us so closely,” I reply, not bothering to hide the humor in my voice. “Don’t worry, Lora…Holt’s not my type.”

  “All I said was that you guys looked like you were talking a lot,” she huffs with a curse, “stop trying to turn this into something it’s not.”

  “You’re just mad because I won’t tell you what he and I were talking about,” I retort, playing with the ends of my hair. “I’ll give you a hint though, if you want one.”

  “Shut up. We both know what the two of you were talking about.”

  I snort at that. “Someone’s sure of themselves.”

  “Am I wrong?”

  “No,” I say, sliding off my bed, “you’re not.”

  “That’s what I thought. Okay, enough about my ex…let’s talk about yours.”

  “Lora—”

  “He counts.”

  “We weren’t even together that long,” I hiss, beginning to pace my room.

  “Yeah, but he’s the only official boyfriend you’ve had…so he’s the only guy that can technically qualify as your ex.”

  Where does she get this stuff from?

  “Either way,” I say, continuing to walk around, “we don’t need to talk about Brayden. Okay?”

  “Hey, I’m getting tutored by Holt…aren’t I? It’s your turn to keep your end of the deal.”