They can hurt me only if I let them, right? And I’m used to people laughing at me. If I didn’t have a certain level of fortitude, I’d have given up on the Post-its long ago.
I head to chem, leaving an encouraging note on a locker along the way. Ryan’s already there with the day’s project ready to go. He looks tired, eyes red behind his glasses, like he’s not sleeping well. Because I’m mad at him, I don’t want to feel a pang of remorse. If I forgive him now, I can stop flailing around looking for a new life. But looking at him hurts. I’m not ready to spend Friday nights watching movies, pretending nothing’s changed. When everything has.
“You look beautiful,” he says, as I sit down.
I push out a pained breath. “Thanks. Can we focus on the work, please?”
“I miss you.” He ignores my request, like I don’t know what I need. It’s only been since Friday, one weekend, two school days. Only in his mind is this a long time.
“Ryan, don’t make me ask for a new partner.” I totally will; it’s not a bluff.
“Right. Sorry.” His face shuts down, and this time, I participate fully in the experiment.
I can’t sit and watch because that’s not okay anymore; since I’m not giving him the support I used to, I can’t coast on his work. Probably, I shouldn’t have done that before. I’ve let Ryan handle too many things for me in the past few years. I told myself it was fine because we were like two sides of a coin or something, but it was really just me letting go of the reins.
After school, I hit Shane’s two last classes, and then I have a full list of his assignments, plus his address. Are you really gonna just show up at his house? It’s so unlike me. I don’t know what I’ll say, how I’ll explain it so I don’t come off like a total headcase, but I don’t even care. Hopefully he’ll be glad to see me, or happy not to fall behind on his homework. He said he couldn’t afford more trouble and bad grades qualify for most people, though it’s not the kind that gets you sent to juvie.
Lila’s not at her locker when I get to mine after making my rounds. She probably got a ride home in the gray van today. Just as well. I’d hate to explain why I look like I’m about to vomit all over my shoes. Shouldering my backpack, I head out to the bike rack, where mine is the last one still chained up. Feeling like a spy, I ride over to the library to check the directions. I have his address, and I know it’s out in the country, but I’m not sure how far.
Five minutes later, Google gives me an answer.
Holy crap. Five miles. Do I want to see him that bad?
CHAPTER EIGHT
Yeah, I totally do. I’m worried he’s sick. I’m concerned he’ll fall behind in his classes and his grades will suffer. I’m … I’m … insane. Maybe I’ve caught some bizarre virus that causes unpredictable and uncharacteristic behavior. I don’t print out the map because clearly that’s too far when everything else I’ve done today is totally normal.