At school now I’m just standing here in the hall by my locker, bobbing, stuck.
I’ve heard that lying gets easier. Not for me. The lie I told Sarah yesterday is growing and I can’t figure out how to get around it. If I go meet her at the Junior Quad like always, either I pretend nothing is wrong and try to have a normal conversation, which feels like lying on a scale beyond my ability, or I tell her what’s wrong, which seems equally impossible. Yet if I don’t go at all she’ll definitely know something’s up.
I’m being childish. Selfish. Stupid. Something, I don’t know. Whatever it’s called, I’m making a big deal out of nothing. I just have to stop.
But I can’t. It’s not nothing. I thought Sarah was my best friend, not my psychologist. Not that I was her project. Not that I was someone she could keep in her pocket because it’s hard for me to get close to people and we’ve known each other so long she has a monopoly on me and doesn’t have to share anything really intimate to keep us together. That she could just peer into my life but keep me out of hers.
None of which helps me figure out what to do now. Stand here or walk… go left or right…
“Hey Parker,” Jason calls, some distance up the hall. “What are you doing?”
“Huh? Oh… just… nothing.”
He’s next to me now.
“That’s what it looks like. You coming or going?”
“Um… I’m done in my locker, if that’s what you mean.”
“Yeah. Do you have anywhere you need to be, or do you want to go for a walk?”
“Walk? Sure. Where? The track? Is that what you usually do?”
“Not in the mornings, just lunchtime. I thought we could take a walk over to the Bio Garden.”
Saved.
“Okay. Let me text Sarah so she doesn’t wonder where I am.”
“Sure thing.”
Jason found me and we’re going for a walk. Heal the heartsick without me.
I stow my cane in my bag and take Jason’s arm.
Quack.
“Okay, have fun,” Matron Sarah replies.
I’m not sure fun is in my future but miracles do happen.
“You know I still don’t have your phone number.”
“And this is crazy,” I say.
I tell him my number to type into his phone.
“So call me maybe,” I add.
“That’s the idea…”
He doesn’t get it. I don’t think I want him to now.
“I mean, so my phone will get your number without me having to type it in.”
“Right.”
My phone rings but I think he’s had enough—I know I have—so I don’t pretend-answer it. He hangs up.
“Sarah’s a duck? Will I get a special sound, too? Or is that only for certain people?”
“Everyone gets one. That way I know who it is, to see if I should answer right away or if it can wait.”
It’s only after I answer that I realize he probably wanted to be called special. I say, “I’m thinking you’re going to be one of the right-away people.”
“Seems like a lot to remember. What everyone’s sound is.”
“Maybe your contact list is longer than mine. But is it really hard for you to remember what all your friends’ voices sound like? It’s not much different.”
I can hear I sound bitchy but isn’t this obvious? He doesn’t answer.
We head toward the Bio Garden. I vaguely know where it is from last year when I took Bio, but it’s a remote corner I don’t otherwise go to so I let Jason steer. I try not to think about how most of my wanting to be with Jason right now is to avoid Sarah.
“You okay?” he asks.
“Why?”
“You just seem… tired, I guess. Like you usually drink coffee but didn’t today.”
“I’m fine.”
This lie is spreading. And I feel no rising urge to stop it. Jason’s right, I am strangely tired.
“Scott told me everything this morning.”
I don’t reply. I completely forgot about telling Scott yesterday to come clean with Jason. It seems like days ago.
“So I guess I know why you ran out of my car Saturday. I’m sorry about all that.”
“You couldn’t have known. When did you see him?”
“This morning. We’re jogging buddies.”
“He runs?”
“Yeah, he’s on the team with me. We run a three-point-two-mile loop from his house every day before school—we live just a few blocks apart.”
“Oh.”
“I’m kind of pissed at him. We talked awhile after he told me—then I turned around and went home but he kept going. He knows he screwed up; he took off running pretty hard.”
I don’t say anything.
“He should have told me when he heard we were going out.”
“It was years ago… He probably didn’t know I was still… I don’t know…”
“He still likes you.”
“He said that?”
“He didn’t have to. I don’t know why I didn’t see it before. Now I know why he can’t stand being around some guys, especially Isaac, who’s kind of a tool anyway. He said you texted him yesterday for the first time in years. That true?”