“What about Fitz? I punched him at the party.”
“Well he was sort of…making things really awkward. Between us. Uh, inferring things wrong. I’m not gonna say I was glad you two scrapped, but I got pretty uncomfortable towards the end, there.”
“It makes you uncomfortable?” I knit my brows. She laughs again.
“Yeah. When people try to – to set you up with someone, you know? Especially if those people don’t like each other at all.”
“Like each other at all,” I echo, my chest deflating. “Right.”
“Ho-lee shit. Is that who I think it is?”
The voice freezes me in my tracks. I turn my head slowly, so slowly, as a brown-haired boy with glasses and a plaid shirt walks up. His face is a little older, a little more mature, a little fuller, but I remember it all the same. I remember it with searing clarity. I memorized that face when it slept, when it talked, when it smiled. When it got angry.
It can’t be him.
With every step he takes towards me I feel like puking, like running away. It’s him.
He can’t be here, but it’s him.
“Mark,” I breathe. Bee’s eyes go wide.
“That’s Mark?”
“I heard the Lakecrest swim team was competing, but I had no idea you were still on it, Wolf. I’m just here to cheer for my brother on his new team. Redtree High, you know?” Mark smiles at me. I avoid his eyes until he looks away. Burn and Fitz are in the stands, arguing with each other. They haven’t seen him yet. If he doesn’t leave, they’ll lash out. And it won’t be pretty.
If he doesn’t leave, I’ll shatter. And it won’t be pretty.
When I don’t respond, Mark looks Bee up and down.
“And who’s your lady friend? She’s cute, if you like the mousy type.”
Bee scowls. “Weird. It’s almost like I’m standing right here, or something.”
Mark laughs. “Oh, I’m sorry. That was rude of me. I’m Mark. Wolf’s friend. Ex-friend, if we’re being completely honest. And you are?”
“None of your business,” I say through gritted teeth. Mark shoots me a surprised look.
“Whoa whoa whoa, let the lady speak for herself.” He reaches out an arm to put around her shoulder, but my body moves on instinct. I put myself between her and him, willing my shoulders to stop shaking, willing myself to look him in the eyes, just this once.
I can’t be afraid anymore.
Not when he’s inches away from her.
“Back. Off.” I manage. Mark blinks a few times, bewildered, then he’s all smiles again. Just like that. Bouncing. Always bouncing between moods on the outside, compensating for the dead wasteland of his insides.
“You haven’t changed at all,” Mark smirks up at me. “Still pretending to be tough, huh?”
“If there’s nothing more,” Bee clears her throat. “You should go, Mark.”
“Oh there’s more, hotstuff.” Mark smiles at her. “Don’t tell me he’s roped you in with his pretty boy face. You know he’s a faggot, right? Gay. A huge fucking faggot who likes dicks - ”
I hear the smack of flesh-on-flesh, and I see Mark hit the ground, but when I turn to see who did it I don’t fully believe it’s Bee. It can’t be Bee, with her fist raised, her eyes glowing with unholy rage. The crowd goes quiet, all of us frozen in the moment. And then she snaps.
Beatrix Cruz, all five feet three inches of her, pounces on Mark’s chest and beats at him with her fists.
And then Mark does something I’ve never, not in an entire year of knowing him, heard him do.
He cries out in pain.
It’s the cue for the crowd to start moving in outrage, for the ref to blow his whistle and Burn and Fitz to peel Bee off Mark. Mark stands shakily, his nose bloody and his eyes screaming daggers at me. I know that look. He wants more than anything to take this out on me, somehow, any way he can.
Even after two years, he hasn’t changed. I’m still his scapegoat. In my deepest heart I thought he’d change. I thought he’d at least start seeing me as a person after I stood up for myself. But no. The look in his eyes confirms that; a look that tells me I’m nothing more than trash to him.
Someone stands in front of me, arms outstretched. Bee, as short as she is, squares her chin.
“You don’t get to look at him,” She snarls. “Get out of here. Away from here. I never want to see you around Wolf again.”
“I’m here for my brother,” He spits. “So you can fuck off.”
“Enough!” Coach’s voice bellows. “Wolf, you’re on the bench for the rest of the competitions, anyway. Get out, before I charge your friend with detention.”
“He’s the one who –” Bee struggles for words, pointing an accusing finger at Mark. “He’s the one who called him –”
If she stays, if I stay, there’s no telling what I’ll do. Or what she’ll do, apparently. And Burn and Fitz are glaring at Mark so hard it’s like they’re trying to set him on fire.
I put my hand on her shoulder, and make my voice low.
“Bee, come on. Leave it.”
She whirls to face me. “We don’t have to leave! It isn’t fair!”
“And I’m not about to see you get punished,” I say. “For standing up for me. Now let’s go.”
“Ice cream,” Burn agrees, never once taking his eyes off Mark. “My treat.”
“You do know I could have your ISP in under seven minutes, right?” Fitz calls to Mark as we walk away. “I hope you like frozen bank accounts!”
“Fitz,” I hiss. “That’s enough.”
“Oh come on, Wolf! I was just getting warmed up. What’s a few harmless electronic threats between friends, hm?”
“He’s not your friend,” Bee says, hard. “He’s not any of our friends’. Ever.”
Fitz sighs, twirling his black umbrella with flourish. “Okay, miss MMA fighter.”
“I’m not an MMA fighter, dorkwad.”
“Tell that to the punch that decked that biphobic dick flat on his ass,” Fitz smirks.
“I hope she broke his nose,” Burn agrees.
“Alright, enough.” I exhale. “Let’s just go.”
“Where?” Burn asks.
“Anywhere. Anywhere that’s far away from here.”
“How about the Haagen-Daaz store up north?”