Not My Problem

by Ciara Smyth

  Holly beamed and Meabh rolled her eyes. I winced. I didn’t think she realized she did that as often as she did. It was like every feeling she had was written all over her. She couldn’t help it. And unfortunately most of her feelings were being infuriated with other people’s stupidity.

  She must find me so annoying.

  And yet, never once had Meabh made me feel like that. At least not since diorama-gate. I could probably let that go after all these years. Holly, on the other hand, a perfect performer, made me feel like that all the time.

  “I mean, apart from a hot tub in the gym, which I think might be a long shot”—Holly paused for the laugh—“I would love to see our school embrace a more inclusive spirit. There are too many groups and gangs and cliques that make people feel like they don’t belong. Our school should be a family. You might not get along with every single person all the time, but when you’re family, you’re always welcome.”

  Meabh rolled her eyes again and I could see her mutter to herself. So could everyone else, of course, if they were looking at her. I knew what she was thinking. What the hell did that even mean?

  Meabh didn’t let people clap for that. Before they could get going she leaned into her microphone.

  “As I said before, I have multiple areas I would like to address, but if we are going to talk about inclusion then I think we need to look at our admittance criteria, which unfairly disadvantages people from lower-income communities. We need to address at a systemic level what we are doing to encourage a more diverse student body, especially those who have not had the advantage of attending one of the feeder schools in higher-income neighborhoods.”

  No one was sure whether to clap now or not. After a silent moment Ms. Devlin called on another first year with her hand up. I had the impression that the first years had all been tasked with thinking of a question to ask.

  “What have been the good parts and the bad parts about running for president?”

  “It’s been a lot of work,” Holly said with a laugh that felt like she was confiding in the whole audience. “I had to write proposals to hand in, I had to write a speech, I had to quit the paper, which was really hard.”

  I was impressed that Holly didn’t show one ounce of bitterness. There was no side-eye, no hint of a snide tone.

  “But it’s also been fun. I got to challenge myself to really think about what would make the school better, I got to learn a lot from the student council advisor, and, my favorite part, I got to have posters of my face everywhere. Lads, do you know how fun that is, to have everyone talking about you? I feel famous!” She finished with a chuckle that let everyone know she was only joking and that of course all the hard work was the reward and posters are silly.

  Meabh looked mutinous. Her brush with fame in this election cycle had not been fun and I had to wonder if Holly had brought it up to rub it in.

  “It’s been really difficult and stressful,” she said, “but it’s something I care so much about that it’s worth it.”

  I thought about Meabh having to endure teasing, knowing that people were making fun of her for her admittedly sometimes excessive enthusiasm. For her “annoying” personality. For the kind of thing people had always hated about her when it was just who she was. I thought about how I wasn’t there for her when it happened and how I hadn’t faced her since. I thought about how I’d done the same thing to Kavi, telling him I had never wanted him around when all he wanted was a friend.

  “One more question?” Ms. Devlin asked the room.

  And then the bell rang.

  The debate. The election. Our school. There were only a handful of people in the room left who cared, and everyone else was already halfway out the door.

  29.

  I left school deflated and pissed off. Meabh hadn’t done herself any favors in that debate, and she didn’t even realize it. She was going to lose. I barely remembered getting home I was so lost in mulling over the debate. I tried in my mind to soften Meabh, manipulate the memories to convince myself it wasn’t so bad. I knew I was lying to myself though. I thought about how much work she’d put in. I’d watched her writing and rewriting policies, sweating over them in the PE balcony, and I knew that was only a fraction of what she’d really done. And she’d never played dirty with Holly. She wanted to beat her on the issues.

  I knew Holly had done horrible things, but when had she become a person who could justify those actions just because she didn’t like someone? Then again, I’d listened to her say terrible things about Meabh for years. Their stupid rivalry was this thing that had always been there in the background. The two of them endlessly competing or sniping at each other. And I’d been there too. I’d been just as bad. I’d been the kind of person who thought it was okay to let my best friend say whatever she wanted about Meabh, even when it was mean or unfair, because you hate the people your best friend hates. That’s the rule.

  But if I hadn’t noticed my part in this problem, maybe Holly hadn’t realized how bad she’d gotten either.

  I caught myself. I was doing it again.

  Somehow my mind always jumped to making excuses for her. I still wanted to find a way that it wasn’t her fault. As I walked home I tried to figure out why I did that. Why did I always want to see the best in her and ignore the worst?

  Then the voice came, like it always did, when I least wanted to hear it.

  If you accept that there’s a problem, then you have to do something about it.

  I was almost home but I turned instead and headed in the opposite direction, sending a text and not waiting for a reply.

  Holly came downstairs already changed into sweatpants and a T-shirt. She looked soft and happy and she beamed when she saw me.

  “Come upstairs,” she said. Wordlessly I followed her up to her room. It was so familiar and yet strange at the same time. I’d spent so many nights here and this was the first time I felt out of place.

  She curled up on her bed with her feet underneath her.

  “Are you okay?” she asked, seeing my face. She sounded worried. She wriggled over and patted the space beside her. It made me want to cry. There was a part of me that wanted to cuddle up with her. Put on a movie and play footsie and pretend like nothing had happened. I sat on the end of the bed instead.

  “What’s going on?” she said, and I saw her realize that something was off with me.

  “I’m going to vote for Meabh.”

  She wasn’t expecting that.

  “Why?” She looked genuinely hurt. I felt tears well up and my throat burn. This was so sad and it was so horrible and I didn’t want to do it.

  “I think she deserves it,” I said. “And it’s awful of me to only tell you that now. And it’s a horrible way for me to tell you that I can’t be your friend anymore.”

  I hoped she’d shout at me. I’d betrayed her, after all. I’d slept with the enemy, so to speak.

  “Why?” was all she said again, in a small voice like a little girl.

  “You know why.” I blinked back tears. “You don’t like me. You talk to me like I’m stupid. I know I’m stupid but you talk to me like I am and it hurts. You don’t want to be around me anymore and I am sick of feeling like I’m a burden to you. I feel like you’re only friends with me because you think you have to be.”

  “That’s not true,” Holly protested. She scrambled toward me and took my hands. “I know I can be a dick sometimes, but that’s not true. You’re my best friend.”

  I took my hands out of hers and folded my arms, leaving her hands lying limply in her lap.

  “You don’t treat me like I am. You talk down to me. You leave me out of things. You don’t even notice when I’m not around.” Tears were streaming down my face and I was acutely aware of how everything I was saying was so embarrassingly needy and childish.

  Holly reached out and wiped some of my tears away with the back of her hand. I wanted to grab it and press it against my heart but I didn’t.

  “I’m sorry I haven’t
been a good friend,” she said, a pleading note in her voice. “I swear I’ll be better. I don’t want to hurt you.”

  “It’s too late for that.”

  “I can be nice to Meabh. I know you like her. I can learn to like her too.” She offered the words up like a last hope.

  I shook my head. “I know you put that video up. And I know about the article you told Jill to write.”

  She blinked. “How do you know?”

  She didn’t deny it. I appreciated that. Maybe she knew there was no point. Maybe she saw that I had no time left for pretense.

  “As soon as I heard about it, I knew it was you.” I hadn’t wanted to admit it then but when I got that note from Dylan, I stopped lying to myself.

  She at least looked ashamed, her cheeks turning pink. She couldn’t quite look at me.

  “I didn’t know it would be so popular. I took it down when I saw the comments were getting bad.”

  “I know.” I sometimes thought Holly did things without really thinking about the consequences. I hoped that seeing the consequences had made her think. That wasn’t enough though. “How did you know about Meabh? About her ankle?”

  “I heard her ask you,” she admitted. “I came back inside to fill my water bottle and I heard you two talking. The hall was empty. I didn’t mean to listen but it wasn’t hard to overhear. When I saw that boy Kavi coming I hid in the store downstairs.”

  “Why didn’t you say anything?”

  “I don’t know,” she said, and it felt like she really didn’t know. She struggled to figure it out. “I guess I wanted you to tell me. And then you didn’t and I was annoyed that you didn’t. I don’t know. It was stupid.” She looked at her hands and then she started crying too.

  “I was the one who took it down. Jill didn’t know.” I didn’t want to drop Jill in it. Her friendship with Holly was her own thing to work out.

  “I figured you called in a favor somehow. I realized then that you liked her. I don’t know how I didn’t see it before.”

  “Please don’t publish it after . . . ,” I said. After the election. After she was president.

  Holly nodded. “I told her to keep you out of it, you know. Jill, I mean. In the article.” She twisted her hands and paused. “Doesn’t that count for something?”

  “I don’t know.”

  She wiped her eyes and took a deep breath. “Is there anything I can do to fix things between us?”

  I wanted to say yes. I thought the answer was no.

  “I don’t know,” I said. But I let her hold my hand for a while.

  I left Holly, heartbroken and confused. I thought I would feel better after I spoke to her. That it would be a release. I didn’t. It wasn’t. Things felt more messy than ever. Could someone treat you badly and still love you? Someone could treat you badly and you could still love them, so maybe the reverse was true too. But just because you loved someone it didn’t mean you had to give them another chance. Or maybe that’s exactly what it meant. I thought about it the whole way home. I didn’t come up with an answer. Exhausted, even though it wasn’t even five p.m., I trudged up the stairs, weighed down by my heavy heart.

  Mam was asleep on the sofa.

  She hadn’t hidden the bottle of wine this time.

  Maybe she’d hidden the first one, the second one even.

  I put a blanket over her and kissed her forehead.

  30.

  For the second time that day I turned around and left my house. I choked back more tears, feeling like I had enough to drown myself with. I couldn’t fix things with Holly. I couldn’t help my mother, not tonight. But there was something left. Something I could fix, someone I could help. Or I could at least try.

  “Thank you for meeting me,” I said.

  Kavi was stony-faced and he sat back on the bench in the balcony. I listened to the sounds of the school basketball team practicing below. Then I realized I had to say the actual words.

  “I’m sorry,” I said.

  He looked at me.

  “Okay, you want more.”

  His face very clearly said duh.

  “You were right. I was not treating you like my friend even though you’ve been the best, most attentive friend I’ve had in years. I think I resisted it because I feel like I don’t deserve a good friend like you.”

  He opened his mouth to interrupt but I didn’t let him.

  “And I’m not saying that so you feel sorry for me or forgive me because I’m pathetic or whatever, I’m only saying it because I want to let you in. You aren’t going to do all the talking anymore.”

  Kavi stood and then wrapped his arms around me and pulled me into one of his hugs. I squeezed him back and he kissed me on the top of my head.

  “Is that it?” I asked when we broke apart. “I really thought you were going to make me work harder for it.”

  “Why would I punish you?” he said, bemused. “I know you mean it.”

  I loved him for being like that and I promised myself I would never, ever take advantage of it again.

  “Okay,” I said, clapping my hands together. “We need to do something about Meabh.”

  “Agreed.” Kavi nodded quickly. “That debate was terrible. Do you think she knows it was terrible?”

  “I think she knows people weren’t responding to her the same way they responded to Holly, but I’d hazard a guess she thinks that’s their fault.”

  “Is she right?”

  “In an ideal world, people would pick her because she’s the best. This is not that world and she needs to start realizing it now.”

  “Are we going to tell her that now?” he said uncertainly.

  “Dear God, man, are you wise? She’s at a breaking point. She might stab us both and eat our bones and bathe in our blood. That’s an awkward conversation for another day. I have a different, probably doomed plan for right now, but I don’t know how we’ll get it all done ourselves.”

  “Tell me what it is and we’ll figure it out.”

  It wasn’t revolutionary and it wasn’t a trick or a scheme with any kind of guaranteed success. It was good old-fashioned door-to-door canvassing.

  In January.

  In the rain.

  On foot.

  With no materials.

  Or addresses.

  Instead of walking downstairs and running out of the hall without looking back, Kavi looked thoughtful.

  “I think we can do it,” he said. “But I don’t think we can do it alone.”

  “You’re right, we can’t do it alone,” I said. “But I know some people we can call.”

  “I didn’t know you helped that girl,” Kavi whispered to me, pointing at Laura behind the palm of his hand.

  “Yeah, so?”

  “She’s belly shot girl.”

  I snorted. Some choir girl!

  The group were watching us expectantly.

  “I hope there’s a good reason I’m hanging out with a bunch of fourth years.” Angela tossed her hair over her shoulder. The assembled party gazed back at her with a tinge of awe. “Oh, I know you. You did that video. It was funny actually. Fair play.”

  Dylan blushed.

  I stood up and twisted my fingers. Why was I so nervous about this? The worst that could happen was they said no.

  “I want you all to know that you’re not obligated,” I said. “You can all leave if that’s what you want. I’m not blackmailing you or anything. There’s no consequences for saying no. I won’t use it against you. You are all entirely paid up. You don’t owe—”

  “Oh, for God’s sake, spit it out!” Angela groaned.

  “We need your help,” Kavi said. Like the words weren’t buried deep down, weighted with anchors, too heavy to float out into the air.

  Laura, Orla, Dylan, Daniel Something, and even Angela waited for more. They didn’t protest or run out of the room.

  “Okay,” I said slowly, feeling like I was walking into a trap for some reason. “The election is tomorrow. You all saw what happene
d this afternoon. I want to help Meabh Kowalska win the election and I want to go out tonight and knock on doors and tell people about the good things she’ll do and why they should vote for her.”

  I held my breath for the rejection.

  “And you want us to go too?” Laura asked. I tried to find the indignation in her tone, but she sounded like she wasn’t sure what I was asking.

  “Well, yes. If you want to.”

  “Yeah, definitely. She did the worst Scottish accent in history for me.” Daniel grinned.

  “She changed my tire,” Angela said thoughtfully, “and I find her hilarious. Did you see that video of her with the coffee cup? She’s an icon.”

  “I changed your—” Kavi started, but I elbowed him. Meabh helped. That counted.

  “She helped me—” Orla started.

  “Uh, let’s maybe not say what she helped you with,” I interrupted quickly. Orla grinned.

  My heart swelled seeing all these people talk about Meabh so positively. Even after the cup incident. I wished she could have heard it.

  “I’m on board,” Dylan said. “I was going to vote for her anyway. Holly is full of shit.” Then he glanced at me. “Aren’t you her BFF or whatever though? Why are you doing this? Did she ask you to throw the election for her or something? I knew she didn’t really want to be president.”

  “No,” I replied. “Nothing like that. I think Meabh deserves to win. That’s all.”

  “Definitely makes a stronger point than a letter,” Angela said, raising one eyebrow. Then she held up her hands. “No judgment.”

  “Anyway,” I said loudly. “We need you guys to come out and canvass with us. But to do that we need the home addresses of all the senior cycle students. Fourth years and up.”

  Daniel’s head popped up from his phone and he saluted. “On it.”

  “Hitting all those houses is going to take a lot more than just us. Laura, do you think you can rope your choir into it?”

  She thought about it. “Most of them maybe. My dad’s pharmacy sponsored our robes this year, so I could guilt them into it.”