The fake him. The him he had made up, just to fuck with her.
It was brutal. But it got better. Or at the very least, it got easier. So easy, in fact, that when she saw Chad skulking toward the picnic table she had chosen—to avoid the cafeteria, where Tate nearly always was—she barely flinched. She didn’t look down. She stared at him the whole way, stony faced, so that by the time he got to them he knew he was unwelcome.
And if he didn’t, her tone made it clear.
“If he honestly thinks he’s going to get to me through you, I should probably let you both know: that’s the fucking stupidest plan I’ve ever heard of.”
“That…no. No, I just saw you and thought…”
“Thought what, Chad? That I might flash a boob and let you get another picture?”
To his credit he turned crimson and looked away.
And then less to his credit, he kept trying.
Christ, why did they keep trying?
“So I guess that is why you don’t talk to him anymore. Because of me.”
“Is that really what you’re claiming he told you? That this is all your fault?”
She put just the right amount of sarcasm in her voice.
But it didn’t have any effect. He was on a roll now, apparently.
“He doesn’t tell me anything anymore. We haven’t talked since the black eye, and even then it was pretty much just you fucking fuck you fuck you if you ever do that again I will turn you into a fuck fuck fuck.”
“What exactly is a fuck fuck fuck?”
“I dunno, but I didn’t want it to happen to me, so…”
“So you thought you’d come over here and pretend that you guys weren’t in on all of it together? You know I have to say, that was a pretty convincing attempt. It almost makes me want to hear what comes next.”
“Nothing comes next. I don’t even know what you’re talking about—there was no in on anything together with Tate. I did a dumb thing and he threatened to fuck fuck fuck me, that was it. And if you’ve ever seen what he’s got in his underpants, you should totally understand why I am terrified of that. Like, I wouldn’t even be here talking to you if I thought he cared anymore, just in case this casual chat gets me a minifuck.”
“Wow. You are really good. I’m impressed.”
“You shouldn’t be. I’m barely following this conversation.”
She stopped then—though not because she was falling for this, because she totally wasn’t. There was just something about the word barely and the word conversation that made her want to push him, hard. Get real answers out of this fake-puzzled jackass.
“Are you honestly going to claim that you had no idea Tate was just screwing with me? That you’re not talking to me so he can screw with me some more? That’s really the play you’re going to make right now?”
“You guys broke up because he was screwing with you? Like, as in a joke?”
Man, she didn’t like his tone at all. He sounded almost as horrified as she felt.
And still with that confusion, too.
She couldn’t stand his confusion.
“Of course as in a joke. You know I mean as in a joke.”
“I don’t see how I could when he goes around looking like he wants to die.”
“Okay, you know what? It was really nice listening to this little fairy tale you’re spinning, and my estimation of your IQ has definitely gone up a few points. But I’ve got to get to class now.”
She stood up to leave—too fast, she knew. It didn’t feel like the right reaction.
There was something panicked about it, rather than outraged.
“Letty, just hold on a second. Just wait, okay? I don’t think you’ve got it right. If you did, if it was just some kind of prank, why would he be like this? He doesn’t talk to anyone, he’s dropped too much weight—Coach says that if he doesn’t straighten out he—”
“I don’t care what your coach says. I don’t care what any of you say.”
“Letty, some guys stopped by the gym.”
He said it right as she was at the door back to the building, which really should have kept her walking. He was so clearly just trying to keep her talking, and probably not for good reasons. Maybe Tate was just waiting over the hill behind them, in a truck with a grille like the teeth of some vicious animal. She carried on doing this, and pretty soon he would mow her down.
And yet.
Yet.
She was listening.
“They looked like pretty bad news. I heard one of them say that if he didn’t throw the next one, they were going to take action—and I don’t think they meant a pat on the back. I think they meant serious fucking business, but Tate didn’t even seem to give a shit. I tried to ask him after they were gone if he was going to do what they want, and he just shrugged. Like it didn’t matter. Like nothing matters. If he didn’t care about you why would he be like that? Why would he do that?”
“You say that like there’s no way you could be full of shit, too.”