My hand wasn’t hurt too badly, and by the time I went to school on Monday, the swelling had mostly subsided. I was still riding high from the concert, and even though I was back to wearing my old winter boots, I felt unstoppable. As I walked through the halls that morning, I couldn’t help but scan for Craig. Part of me hoped I’d see him. I knew he respected me for what I had done, but the first friendly face I saw was Josephine.
As we waited for Mr. Lee to begin art class, she noticed my hand. “What happened?”
“Oh, nothing,” I said nonchalantly. “I was at a concert and this guy got out of line. I had to step in. I punched him in the face.”
“What?”
“It was a Surgical Carnage concert.” I muffled a yawn behind my hand. “Metal music. I went with Fern and a few other friends.”
“You punched someone?”
“He was groping Fern in the mosh pit. I was right there. Someone had to stop him. I think I probably broke his nose.” I smiled.
“You were in a mosh pit?” Josephine twisted her lips, confused. “Punching people?”
“Just him.”
“Are you okay?”
“I think he’s the one you should be asking. There was blood all over his face.”
“That’s terrible.”
“Not really.”
Mr. Lee started talking, and we were silent, listening to him outline the day’s assignment. Boring — a coloured pencil drawing of an apple. Each table would be given a different variety of apple and we’d have the length of the class to sketch it as accurately as possible. He came by our table and put a bright green Granny Smith in front of us.
Josephine and I worked quietly for a little while. I could tell that Josephine disapproved of what had happened, but she wasn’t saying anything. Just like my mother. It was becoming more and more apparent that I had been right all along. No one could truly understand me, unless they got me. And it seemed like Fern, and a few of her friends, were the only ones even coming close.
“So how was the concert?” Josephine finally asked. “Other than what happened with that guy?”
“It was a lot of fun,” I said. “Really cool people. Great band. It was in St. Charles, so we got home really late. It was definitely after two in the morning.”
She was quiet again for a while, and when she spoke, her voice sounded timid. “You know, I would have liked to go.”
“No, you wouldn’t,” I said. “You’re not into the music.”
“So? It still would have been fun.” Her voice was small, and part of me knew that she was nervous to talk to me about this. But at the same time, it really was ridiculous. She would have hated the concert. She didn’t even like Fern!
“I don’t think you would have liked it. And there wouldn’t have been room in Craig’s car for you anyway.” I lifted my nose a bit, focusing down at my drawing as I shaded.
“Who’s Craig?”
“Oh,” I waved my hand casually, “he’s that guy from last fall with the Bloodvomit shirt. With the long hair. I used to have a crush on him, but we’re just friends now.”
“Oh.” Josephine scribbled at her drawing for a bit, and then abruptly put down her pencil crayon. “Rachel, do you like me still?” Her voice wavered as if she was going to cry.
I rolled my eyes. “Of course I do. Don’t be silly.”
“It’s just that you don’t seem like the same person anymore.” She was getting more upset, and she lowered her voice to a whisper. “We used to go shopping all the time, we’d talk about guys, you know. I feel like you’re really pushing me away.”
“It’s just because I’ve made a few new friends. You’re jealous.”
“I am not jealous!” I glanced at her and saw her eyes shiny with tears. I had to look away. “I just . . . you’re my best friend!” She wiped her eyes.
I didn’t know what to say. I’d been feeling so great all weekend, and here was Josephine, trying to make me feel like shit. “You have other friends, you know,” I muttered. “From Our Lady. Why can’t I have other friends too?”