What are you talking about?
“Jason told me you ran out of his car last night after he told you what happened with Gerald and Isaac. He’s confused but I didn’t tell him anything. I figured you didn’t want me to.”
He’s right, of course… damn it. I don’t want him to tell anyone about any of it, except…
Jason needs to know but I don’t want to be the one. You tell him. Today.
“That won’t be easy to admit, but I will. I’ll do it tomorrow to tell him in person. He’s a good guy. I’m glad you’re together.”
I want to answer that but need to stay on track.
I want to know why you did what you did at Marsh.
Minutes go by without an answer.
I’ve lost track of time and now I want Petey’s show to last longer. It’s perfect cover for this conversation. I could go hide in my room like Sheila, but that’s not like me and I don’t want to draw any more attention than I did last night, which I blamed on something I ate.
“Why ask now?”
That’s not the answer I expect, especially after minutes of thinking he was typing. It’s strange since he wanted so much to explain back when it happened and I wouldn’t let him.
I’m finally ready to hear it.
This is true, even though the whole truth is more complicated. As much as I want to ignore it, I see now that it’s going to keep following me, jumping in front of me, slapping me like it did last night. For some reason it’s all feeling different from how it did back then and I need to figure out why… either that or I just have to face it down.
“I don’t think it’s a good idea to dig it all up again.”
My dread shifts toward anger. I’m shaking a bit from adrenaline seeping into my blood and have to retype my next text a few times to get rid of the typos before sending.
Maybe you buried it but I haven’t.
His answer comes quickly. “Can I call you?”
My answer goes out even quicker. No.
Now I’m waiting again, wondering if it’s taking a long time now because he’s typing or just thinking. What I get is a bit of both.
“Explaining it will sound like I’m making excuses but there’s no excuse and I’m not trying to justify it, okay?”
Fine. Just tell me.
Now I figure I’m in for a wait and it looks to be true. I try to make sense of Petey’s show, even asking a couple questions, but it’s hopeless; I can’t concentrate, and I’m not sure it would matter if I could. When Scott’s text finally comes it’s so long it’s broken into fragments.
“Us getting together was like a kid getting to be an astronaut. Not when he grows up, but right now, today, pack your suitcase, you’re getting on a plane to NASA. When I told my friends they wanted me to prove we were more than friends. I said that was stupid, but we weren’t trying to hide that we were together and other people kissed in public and it was no big deal. So I told them about us going into Ms. Kincaid’s room at lunch and if they looked in the window they might get lucky. I thought this was okay, since there was always a chance someone might look in anyway and we never worried about it. I didn’t know they were hiding in those cabinets until Isaac started laughing. But when you pushed me away, I saw the look on your face and knew none of that mattered. It felt like a crazy dream where dumb things make sense and as soon as you wake up you think back and see how stupid it all was and wonder why you ever believed it. It felt a little iffy telling the guys where we’d be but mostly fine, but following you out of that room I saw how obviously stupid it was, and how it must have looked to you. I knew my astronaut days were over. I also knew I’d do anything for as long as it took to try and make it better because I’d never get over how Parker Grant could have had anyone but she chose me and I ruined it.”
“Big P?” Petey says and I jump. “You’re breathing funny.”
“Yeah, Little P… I mean… is the show over?” I struggle to even out my breathing and wrap my head around what the Australian Male just said in stiff and awkward intonation.
“Just that one. Another one’s starting in a minute. Wanna watch—I mean listen?”
“Okay.”
“Cool!”
The commercials are loud—I turn up the volume on my earbud and listen to Scott’s text again. And again. And again.
He thought being with me was like getting to be an astronaut. That I picked him when I could have had anyone. The anger I felt coming earlier has fizzled out and… I miss it. I feel lost in endless darkness. I never would have guessed in a million years that my anger disappearing would make me feel this intensely alone. Alone and wretchedly sad. More than sad.
He also said he’d never stop trying to make it better.
I text him, You did stop trying.
I get a text the instant after I send mine—he must have sent it at the same time.