My Best Friend's Girlfriend

Chapter 8

 Never before had I wished desperately that I didn't have ears as I did the Monday after Fitz and Sophie's date. Fitz talked so much I was surprised he had a voice left at the end of the day. It wasn't until I talked to Sophie that the words that I'd ignored when Fitz was speaking resonated with me. I ran into her after school was over.

"Hey, Sophie," I greeted her.

"Hi!" she replied with a cheery smile. It seemed that once again she was left without a ride.

"Want me to drive you home again?" I suggested. She bit her lip, glancing down at her phone screen then back up at me.

"I don't know if I can," she said. "Would— would Fitz be okay with it?" It felt as though someone had punched me in the gut. I hesitated for a moment.

"Well you're not his property," it wasn't until I said them that I realized how bitter my words sounded. Sophie looked surprised and almost a little offended.

"No, but I'm his girlfriend," she shot back. My eyes widened, and my lips parted.

"Girlfriend?" I managed.

"Yeah, he asked me after our date."

"And he's so perfect, huh?" I spat. Sophie glared at me, and I instantly regretted my words.

"Yeah, he's a great boyfriend," she said bitingly. I felt a sickening sensation in my stomach, and I took a step away from her, unable to form coherent speech for a second. If Sophie noticed my sudden change in attitude, she didn't acknowledge it.

"Oh," I finally choked out. "Sorry," I climbed into my front seat without another word. Sophie still stood defiantly on the edge of the sidewalk. I watched her as I drove away, misgivings about leaving her there still lingering in my mind. It's fine, I thought. She'll probably just call Fitz. I still missed her sitting in the passenger seat. It was like her very presence had taken a weight off of me. I still didn't understand why I was so upset by her and Fitz dating. I drove up to my house, but I couldn't force myself to go inside, instead I pulled back out of the driveway. I drove around the neighborhood for a while, but I kept passing by my house again, and that didn't help matters. I ended up driving to the park. It was surprisingly empty. I parked and walked to the pavilion where Fitz had confessed his feelings for Sophie. I pushed away the pain and settled on a bench with a notebook and pencil from my backpack. Once again I felt the urge to draw Sophie. I drew her standing on the very pavilion where I sat. Then I drew Fitz beside her, pouring out his heart to her. I'm happy for them, I thought forcefully. I turned to another blank page and drew them sitting at a table in the restaurant they'd visited for the date, holding hands. A pain burned in the back of my throat, but I swallowed it down. I'm happy for them. I drew them high-fiving each other after winning every single game at Everglen. I'm happy for them. Next it was them sitting beside each other at our lunch table, looking into each other's eyes. I'm happy for them! I hurled my notebook to the floor in a rage and gripped the edge of the bench, breathing heavily and holding back the tears that flooded my eyes.

"Hello," I heard a small voice. I started, loosening my grip on the seat and turning my eyes to the sound. A small boy, no more than five, was standing on the steps to the pavilion. He had curly light blonde hair and ice blue eyes that were fixated on me.

"Hi, buddy," I forced a smile. He grinned, showing a little gap between his front two teeth. I chuckled.

"Come back, sweetie!" Came a call from the playground. The boy, still smiling, toddled back down the steps.

"Okay, Mommy!" he shouted back, sprinting on his short little legs to his parents, who stood in front of the swing set. His father scooped him up with a tender smile, and his mother tickled him on the belly, kissing him on the forehead. The parents looked up and smiled at each other, a smile full of love. That boy would grow up with parents who understood him and adored him, parents who loved each other. His mother would never leave him without any warning. His father would never wish he hadn't been born. He wouldn't spend every single day wishing he was anyone else in the world. My eyes burned with tears. I grabbed my stuff and speed-walked back to my car. Once in the front seat, I fumbled to get my phone from my pocket, desperately needing someone to talk to, anyone to talk to. The first contact I opened was Fitz. His flawless smile and perfectly combed hair stared at me from his profile picture. I've never confided in him before, I realized. Can I? I imagined his amazing house with two siblings and kind parents. It wasn't that he wouldn't understand, though he wouldn't relate. It was that I couldn't bear him looking at me every day and knowing what I went through. I couldn't bear him seeing my vulnerability when I could never see his. The only other person that came to mind was Sophie. With shaky breaths, I opened her contact. She was probably mad at me from earlier, but she'd trusted me when no one else would. She opened up to me, and she was the one person I knew I could open to. With another deep breath, I pressed call. The phone rang for a moment, and I was almost worried she wouldn't pick up. But at the last second, she did.

"Hi, Keefe," she said. She still didn't sound too happy with me, and I bit my lip, wondering if I'd made the wrong choice.

"Hey, Sophie," I greeted her.

"Did you need something?" Now she just sounded agitated. I swallowed nervously.

"I just... needed someone to talk to." My voice cracked terribly, and a tear slipped from my eye. I cringed. Why did I have to call her?

"Are you okay?" she asked, her voice filled with genuine concern. The tears began to rush from my eyes, and I poured out everything about how my parents treated me, then about my mom leaving and my big argument with my dad. She was quiet after I'd finished, and I sat there, sobbing and sniffling like an idiot.

"I'm sorry about earlier," I said to break the silence.

"I am too," she spoke softly. "Keefe, I had no idea all that was happening to you."

"Please don't tell Fitz," I pleaded. That seemed to surprise her, and once again I was left worrying she'd left.

"I won't,"

"Thank you, I know he's my best friend, but..."

"You don't want him to know you go through that because he doesn't, and he'll see you differently," Sophie finished. I raised my eyebrows.

"Yeah,"

"I get that," she laughed nervously. "I moved without saying goodbye to any of my friends, and they kept calling me. I blocked all of them."

"That sounds hard."

"It was." I breathed deeply. The quiet stretches had become comorting instead of awkward.

"Thank you," I said finally. "Thank you for listening."

"Anytime," she assured me. "Anytime, Keefe,"