“Are you kidding me?”
I look up to find Jordyn snarling at me with a slice of pizza in one hand and a Coke in the other. She’s wearing that stupid leather jacket again. Should I remind her that it’s still August?
“What, are you stalking me now, Tyler?”
“Don’t flatter yourself, sweetheart.” Sweetheart? Jesus.
“Like you didn’t know I eat here every day.”
“Why would I?” I take another bite of my sandwich and a swig of iced tea as I think about where I might find someplace to be alone outside.
“You can leave anytime now,” Jordyn says. She shifts on the bench. “Seriously, Tyler. I’m not in the mood. You can’t really be that much of a dick.”
Oh, but I can. I had every intention of leaving, but she just said the magic words. The disdain in her voice, her words, her body language—
I make a show of throwing my legs up on the bench and crossing them at the ankles as I casually take another bite. “There’s room. I promise not to bite.”
“You’re such an asshole.”
“Well, which is it? Am I an asshole or am I a dick? Please choose one part of the anatomy and stick to it.”
“Frankly, I’m not sure either is strong enough. Motherfucker is more like it.”
She says this without batting an eye. Calling a guy whose mother just killed herself a motherfucker? Bold. Move. If anyone else had said that, they undoubtedly would have backpedaled, but not Jordyn. Even if she realizes how messed up it is, she’s not backing down.
“Thanks,” I say. And I mean it.
“Fuck you, Tyler,” she says, and then she goes to find somewhere else to eat.
I laugh, to which she raises her hand, giving me the finger around her unopened can of Coke, not bothering to turn around as I watch her walk away.
She should’ve just stayed. I’m done in three more bites. I gather my stuff and chug the rest of my drink, then head toward my car to listen to music and wait out the rest of lunch.
Jordyn groans as I approach the one trash can in the deserted lobby area. Well, it’s not really the lobby anymore; at this point it’s the upper gym hallway. Jordyn’s just settling in on the top step of a small flight that leads down to the band room.
“Jesus, Tyler. Just leave me alone,” she whimpers. Then she grabs her shit and heads back over to her usual spot.
I’m grinning for real for the first time in as long as I can remember when I spot Sheila. I maintain eye contact as I walk past her toward the parking lot. I expect her to follow, but she doesn’t. She’s probably pissed I didn’t eat with her.
? ? ?
“What the eff, Ty? Did you really skip lunch with me to eat with that goth freak?” Sheila greets me at the doors as I head back in for wonderful Mrs. Hickenlooper’s class.
There’s no sense defending myself.
“Well?” she says, looking around to make sure people are watching. The smile on her face clearly implies: “I caught you. I dare you to deny it.”
I lean against the wall and cock my head to the side. But I don’t say anything.
Her expression goes from pissed to embarrassed to concerned in the span of about four seconds. She brushes her shiny light brown hair over her right shoulder, running her fingers through it, then glances around at the onlookers, trying to figure out a way to turn this around. “Ty,” she says loud enough so her fans don’t have to strain their ears, “I think what hurts the most is that I’m here for you and you just—”
I slip around her and head to class mid-sentence. I can’t do it. I’m done.
“This conversation is not over!” she yells as I round the corner.
Oh, but how wrong she is. The conversation is most definitely over. And I think we are too.
And in that second, all I feel is relief.
? ? ?
On Tuesday I consider staking my claim on Jordyn’s spot again, but I kind of don’t even feel like dealing with her. No, today’s an alone day. I head to my car and blast some music while I eat my crappy sandwich. I seriously need to get groceries, but I’m low on funds. I could tap into my secret stash, but I sort of have a little pact with myself about that.
Maybe I should bring up the whole money thing at work tonight. I probably won’t get paid for another two weeks—I mean, that’s how Subway was. And I definitely won’t last that long. Plus I’m low on dog food. It’s one thing for me to go hungry, but I won’t let Captain starve.
“Tyler, wait up, man!” Marcus runs to catch me in the parking lot as I head back in after lunch. “You wanna grab some grub tonight after practice?”
He always has to throw in something about practice. “Working tonight, but tomorrow maybe?”
“I heard you got fired.”
“Where’d you hear that?” I hold the door open, letting Marcus lead the way.
“Kyle.”
“Where’d he hear that?”
“Mindy.”
Who the hell is Mindy?