“Hey,” I say walking up to her. My heart is beating outside of my chest like a cartoon.
“Hey.” Madison takes her Spanish book from her locker. She doesn’t turn around, instead she rearranges her notebooks in her already organized locker.
“How did it—” I’m about to ask her about her AP History debate when Miles pushes me out of the way and punches the locker next to Madison. The sound of his fist against the metal rings in my ears. “What the fuck, Maddie?”
Madison closes her locker door and turns to him. “Hi, Miles.”
He pulls out his wallet and takes a slip of paper from it. “You fucking broke up with me on a receipt!”
“You broke up with him on a receipt?” I swallow a laugh.
“Stay out of this you, dumb dyke,” Miles snarls. His tan face reddens with rage. A crowd gathers around us.
The blood in my veins boils. I step up to Miles. “What did you call me?” I jab a finger at the alligator on his green polo shirt.
“You heard me,” he says, slapping my hand away.
Madison tries to push us apart. “Okay you guys, that’s enough.” The warning tone in her voice makes the crowd push in even closer.
“Fuck you,” I tell Miles. “Don’t make me kick your ass again.” He’s nearly twice as big as he was in the eighth grade but I have twice as much hate for him. And I am more than ready to fight for Madison.
“No, fuck you,” he says. “Wait. I guess that’s Maddie’s job now that she’s your girlfriend.” I watch Madison shrink back in my peripheral vision.
“Oh, burn,” someone from the crowd calls. The warning bell rings but no one makes a move. All eyes are on us. The scene is unfolding like a bad CW drama.
“She’s not my girlfriend, you asshat.” I push him into the locker. Someone behind me claps and even though I really hate Miles, I have to work to hide my grin from my witnesses.
“Well she’s someone’s girlfriend now,” he says holding up the receipt for everyone to see. I met someone else is scrawled in Madison’s loopy handwriting.
“I’m sorry,” Madison says. Her voice is low with regret. I can’t tell if she regrets breaking up with him for me or if she just regrets her means of dumping. She pauses for a second and shakes her head. She stands up even straighter. “I take that back. I’m not sorry.”
Miles lowers his hand and shoves the receipt and his wallet into the back pocket of his khakis. “Who is he?” Miles says. There’s an edge to his voice.
I step away from him and cross my arms over my chest, curious to see how this unfolds.
“Who is he?” he repeats.
“No one you would care about.” Madison says. She meets my eyes briefly and my heart stops beating.
Miles sneers, “Oh, what is he in college or something? How mature of you.”
“It’s none of your business.”
“If some college guy is boning my girlfriend’s brains out, it is my business.”
“Don’t be crass. I’m not your girlfriend anymore. Look, I’ve got to get to class. Can’t we talk about this later?” Madison meets my gaze. The corner of her mouth twitches upward, but it is her eyes that smile at me. She gestures to the crowd. “Maybe somewhere more private?”
He holds up his phone and says, “Right. Like we talked this weekend? You ignored my calls all weekend. I guess you were too busy with your new dude to pick up a fucking phone.”
“My phone broke,” she defends. “You can ask Brad.”
“Is that this college dick’s name? Brad?”
“Brad is her brother, you tool,” I tell Miles. “You should know that.”
He glares at me. “I’m gonna kick your butch ass so hard.”
“Bring it on, pretty boy,” I say beckoning him towards me with my hands. “You’ve gotta let her go. She’s moved on to someone who appreciates her. Someone who isn’t a total douche canoe.”
Miles lunges toward me but Madison blocks his body with her own. “Leave Avery alone. This is over. We’re over.”
He punches the locker again. “It’s not over until I say it’s over.”
“I’m sorry, Miles, but I say it’s over.” Madison grabs his shoulder and he shrugs it off. Her voice drops even lower as she says, “You were really drunk at the party Friday. That’s why I wrote it on your receipt. I was trying to be nice about it but you were so wasted you weren’t paying attention to what I was saying. It was my only choice.”
“No, it wasn’t. You didn’t have to break up with me,” he says.
“Yes, I did. I have feelings for someone else and it wasn’t fair for either of you if I led you on.”
“So you cheated on me?”
“No,” she says. “I didn’t want to cheat on you.”
The crowd from before has dissipated. Now it’s only the three of us, who will be late to class.
“Let it go, Miles,” she says grabbing her bag.
“Screw you,” he says. “I don’t need your pity. You’re just the appetizer. I’m still waiting for the main course.” Then he shoves past the both of us and heads in the opposite direction.
“What does that even mean?” Madison asks me. Worry is etched across her face.
“I don’t know.” I’m trying my damndest to look as serious as she does. Madison just semi-admitted that she cares about me in public—a major victory. Even though she didn’t flat out say my name, this thing between us feels even stronger.
“Oh, crap,” Madison says, racing down the corridor toward our Spanish class. “We’d better hurry.” I don’t rush after her even though Señora Catalana hands out detentions like chips and salsa. Madison turns down the B-wing hall as the final bell rings. A smile stretches across my face as I realize that I’m not even halfway there. There are worse things than spending an afternoon in detention with Madison.
MY HIGH FROM the hallways drama lasts until lunch. I’m a few minutes late to the table. Jessica and Maura and Madison are already here. Scott’s MIA today. He worked his scrawny ass off in Mom’s flower shop all weekend and texted me that he needed to take a personal day to recover and rewatch the Oscars, which aired last night. He loves movies even more than I do.
I sit down next to Maura as she complains, “It was like the worst date in the history of dates.”
Madison smiles at me. “Maura is talking about her date with Steven the other week. He’s still hung up on his ex.”
Maura glances around the cafeteria as if she’s looking for him. “I mean, seriously, get over it. You know what? Dating a senior kind of sucks. There’s so much baggage there.”
“All boys come with baggage,” Jessica says. “It doesn’t matter how old they are.” Madison nods her head in agreement.
“You’re so lucky you date girls,” Maura says to me before popping open the tab of her lime-flavored seltzer water. “I mean, it’s gotta be easier than dating boys, right?”
“I don’t know about that,” I say taking a bag of Cool Ranch Doritos from my lunch sack. “Girls have just as much baggage as guys.” I try to catch Madison’s eye but she’s suddenly very interested in the packaging of her chicken flavored Cup Noodles.
“What do you mean?” Maura asks.
I pop a chip into my mouth and crunch it while I formulate my thought. “Well, I’ve never dated a guy, so I’m basing everything on what I know from the movies. It’s not always easy dating a girl, especially if she doesn’t even know if she wants to be dating girls.”
“I don’t get it,” Maura says. “If she’s doesn’t know if she wants to be with girls why is she dating you?”
I shrug and pop another Dorito. “Maybe she’s curious. Maybe she’s sick of dating twat waffles. Or maybe she just really likes me.” I direct this last line at Madison.
Jessica says, “That sounds shitastic. Not for them, but for you. Like you’re some kind of experiment.”
“I guess,” I say honestly. “All the secrecy does kind of suck. So does not knowing if she’s going to change her mind.”<
br />
Maura asks, “So why waste your time?”
“Normally I only date girls who’ve been out awhile.” Madison is now playing with her spoon but I can tell that she is listening. “I’m trying something new. In the end it might be worth it. Some girls are a risk worth taking. Don’t we all take that same risk when we’re with someone new?”
Maura scowls. “Yeah, like with Steven. Look how great that turned out.”
“So this girl you’re dating right now, she’s not out yet?” Jessica asks around a lumpy mouthful of burger. She is the only one of us willing to eat cafeteria food.
“Maybe.” I brush the Cool Ranch dust from my fingers. “I wouldn’t call what we’re doing dating per se. We’re just hanging out. Talking.” Madison has finished her lunch and is obsessively studying the teal polish on her nails. “We haven’t had the girlfriend talk yet.”
“Do we know her?” Maura asks.
Jessica rolls her eyes. “Like she’s gonna tell us who she’s dating if she just said that girl ain’t out yet. Right?” Jessica waves at someone from across the cafeteria and we all turn to look. Her boyfriend, Trey, is heading our way with a plate full of pizza.
“Hopefully I’ll be able to introduce you to her soon.”
“Like Prom?” Maura asks. “You’re cool with that, right Madison?”
Madison jerks her head up from the table. “Sorry, I wasn’t really paying attention.”
“I asked if you’re cool with Avery bringing her new lady to Prom.” Maura tilts her head. “Why are you so quiet today?”
“I don’t know,” Madison answers, but I can’t tell which question her response was for.
Trey stops next to Jessica and studies us, balancing his tray of pizza. It’s like he knows what we’re talking about and he wants no part of it. “On second thought,” he says. “I’m gonna eat outside.” He leans down to kiss Jessica goodbye.
“I’ll come with you,” she says and stands up. “Later, guys.”
As soon as Jessica is gone Darren swoops in and takes her seat. “Hello, my pets,” he says before focusing all of his attention on Madison. “OMG. Tell me about this new college boyfriend. I heard all about your showdown with Miles. It’s all anyone can talk about.”
“For reals?” Maura asks. “I didn’t realize you were already dating someone after Miles broke up with you.”
“I broke up with him.”
“My bad.”
Madison shrugs and tries to remain nonchalant. “It’s new. Like really new.”
“How new?” Darren asks.
“Like three days new.” Madison briefly meets my eyes. Her expression is unreadable. “I guess you could say we’re just hanging out. Talking.”
“Where did you meet him?” Maura presses.
“Forget that,” Darren says. “Is he cute?”
“Of course. I could never date someone who wasn’t seriously hot.” She flashes me a grin and my stomach ties itself into knots.
“So tell us about him,” Maura says. “Don’t keep us in the dark. Where does he go to school?”
Madison twirls her ponytail around one finger, thinking. I stare at her beautiful mouth. Tell them it’s me, tell them it’s me, tell them it’s me. I have never wanted telepathic powers more than I do right now.
“He goes to USF,” Madison says. Shit.
“A college boy?” Maura looks impressed.
“So the rumors are true,” Darren says. “I don’t blame you. High school boys are so not worth the time or the energy. Way to upgrade.”
Madison shifts in her seat. “There’s too much drama dating someone at this school. Everyone knows your business.” Her words freeze my heart and rip it from my chest. It hits the cafeteria floor and shatters into a thousand pieces but no one sees it because they are too busy staring at Madison.
“Tell us about him!” Maura urges.
“Tell me more, tell me more,” Darren sings.
“Yeah, tell us,” I say. “Give us all the juicy details.” I can’t stop the sarcasm from spilling out of my mouth. I crumple my Doritos bag into a ball.
“He’s, um, a freshman,” she says, tearing a napkin into tiny strips. She is by far the worst liar I’ve ever seen, but Maura and Darren are hanging onto every word. Miles walks by our table, his sneakers crunching on the broken bits of my heart. When he passes by me he jams his elbow into the back of my head.
“Dick,” I mutter.
“Dyke.” He retorts. Madison’s hands still at his words. For a second it seems like she is going to go after him, but instead she continues turning her napkin into confetti.
Darren eyes Miles as he walks away. “You so won the lottery by dumping him. So what’s his name? How did you meet?” He asks.
“His name is Tyler and he’s from San Francisco. We met a few weeks ago when I was at USF talking to the soccer coach.” Maybe this isn’t entirely a lie. Madison talking to the soccer coach is entirely plausible. I bet this guy actually exists.
Maura’s eyes are sparkling when she asks, “What’s he like?”
Madison closes her eyes as she speaks, as though Tyler is the dreamiest person alive. I’m glad her eyes are closed, so she can’t see how this is breaking me. “He’s like the coolest person I’ve ever met. And he’s a really good kisser.”
This is too much for me to take. “Good for you,” I say and stuff the remainder of my lunch into the sack and crumple it. It’s loud enough to muffle the blood roaring in my ears. Fake or not, I can’t compete with a college guy.
Madison opens her eyes. No one else knows to look for it, but I can see the memory of Friday afternoon flicker across her face before she composes herself. “You’re leaving?” she asks.
“I lost my appetite,” I say, before standing and shouldering my messenger bag. I drop my paper sack ball onto the table and leave.
“Oh. I guess I’ll see you in detention later,” Madison calls after me. I don’t answer. I’m too busy sidestepping the pieces of my heart mixed with cookie crumbs and spilled soda on the cafeteria floor.
I PUSH THROUGH the cafeteria doors hard and they slam behind me, echoing down the empty hall. The rest of the school is eating lunch like there wasn’t just an emotional earthquake. Meanwhile I can’t seem to find solid ground.
I enter the B-wing girl’s bathroom. It is empty. A faint smell of cigarettes still lingers in the air from the pre-lunch smokers. I’d rather hang out in this nasty-ass bathroom than listen to Madison tell stories about her fake college boyfriend while she eats those stupid noodles. I drop my bag on the floor and slide down the wall. The tile is cool through my black T-shirt and my rage evaporates the slightest bit.
I fish around the pocket of my bag for my iPod and plug the earbuds in my ears. As if it were reading my mood, the opening chords to Tegan and Sara’s “Goodbye, Goodbye,” starts to play. If anything can get me through the day, it’s them.
I AVOID MADISON until detention. For some unexplainable reason, we are the only two students to get it today. It’s rather unfortunate for me because I have no one else to look at and I’m stuck in Señora Catalana’s class for the second time in six hours. I try to study conversational Spanish but my brain refuses to focus.
“Hey,” Madison whispers. “Why are you ignoring me? Are you mad about something?”
“Why do you think?” I hiss.
Señora Catalana looks up. “En Español, por favor. You may speak, but only in Spanish.”
“Por qué estás enojada conmigo?”
I ignore her.
“Avery. Por qué estás enojada conmigo?”
“Tu novio falso.” You’re fucking Tyler.
“Mi novio falso?”
“Si.” Isn’t it obvious why I’m upset?
“Que paso?”
I hiss, “Why did you make him up?”
“En Español, Senorita Jennings.”
“Pardon. How do you say “why did you make it up?” I ask her.
Señora Catalana answers, “Por qué l
o conforman?”
I turn to Madison and parrot back. “Por qué lo conforman?”
She twirls a strand of blonde hair around her finger. At some point today she took it out of her braid and now it is all wavy. I want to run my fingers through it and yank it at the same time. “Sabes por qué.” Because I had to. Bullshit.
I turn back to Señora Catalana. “Como se dice I hate your guts right now and I don’t want to talk to you.”
Señora Catalana tries to hide a smile as she says, “Odio tus agallas en este momento y no quiero hablar contigo.”
I point at Señora Catalana. “What she said.”
“I’m sorry. Err, lo siento,” she says. There is hurt in her ocean-colored eyes. The ice around the remainder of my heart thaws a fraction of a fraction.
“I don’t want to talk right now.” According to the clock I still have twenty minutes of this hell to endure.
“En Español,” Señora Catalana reprimands. Her painted eyebrows have practically joined together in the center of her forehead.
I snap my book shut and yell, “No hablo Español!” to a startled Madison and Señora Catalana before folding my arms on the desk and leaning my forehead against the cool wood. The room falls silent. All I can hear is the clicking of the clock on the wall. It sounds like time is slowing down.
WHEN DETENTION IS over I try to get out of there as fast I can, but Madison is quick to catch up with me. “Wait,” she says. “We should talk.”
“There’s nothing to talk about,” I say.
“Avery,” she says and the way my name comes out of her mouth turns the blood in my veins into liquid fire. I imagine her saying my name like this under different circumstances. Circumstances like in my bed.
“It’s not like I’m officially your girlfriend or anything,” I say. “Why should I care if you’re with a fake boyfriend? You might as well screw all the imaginary guys you want. But make sure they wear something. You don’t want fake HPV or wind up fake pregnant.”
I try to walk away but Madison puts her hand on my arm and the heat of her skin on mine leaves a burn mark. She leans in and her breath is warm on my ear.
Secret Heart Page 8