Part 4: Senior Year - Scene 3

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When I've finally had enough, I call Casper on a Friday night. The phone rings about five or six times until it drops, but even then I call back again. Same thing. I keep redialling, and redialling, and redialling until the moment where the tone stops mid-ring and I hear him say, "Hello?"

I let out a breath that lasts for miles. "Have you been avoiding me?"

"Holden?"

"Who else?"

He goes quiet, and through the line I can hear the distant sound of a movie playing. Casper coughs and sniffs, pausing for a moment before he says, "I've been reading Yeats. The one you told me about."

"You didn't answer my question."

"You want to know the one I'm reading right now? It's called The Rose of Battle. My favourite lines are the last ones. We shall no longer hear the little cry of our sad hearts that may not live nor die. It's sad, isn't it? But I find it kind of funny how sad things can be beautiful at the same time. Does that sound stupid?"

"Casper."

"My favourite by him is Balloon of the Mind. I'm sure you know it. Hands, do what you're bid / bring the balloon of the mind / that bellies and drags in the wind / into its narrow shed. It's not much, but that's why I like it. It's simple but complex. Like me."

I rub my forehead with my free hand. He's not letting me have this. I keep silent for a moment, trying to steady my breathing as he continues to flip pages while a suspenseful music plays on the television.

"You're far from simple," is the only thing I can say. Casper gives off a forced, short laugh, and I hear a hardcover slam shut.

"Yeah, you're right. Simple doesn't work with me, I guess. But I can still dream about it." He takes a breath. "I haven't been avoiding you. Sometimes I just need time to think, you know? By myself."

"Think about what?"

"Stuff."

"Stuff about me?"

"Sure."

"Bad stuff?"

"That's a little private. Some thoughts aren't meant to be shared. I'm sure you know that more than anyone."

What's that supposed to mean? I want to ask him, but I know he'd grow sour about it. So instead I blink several times when my eyes start to sting and say, "What do I have to do? What will make you happy? Just tell me and I'll do it. I swear I'll do it."

He snorts. "That sounds desperate."

"You make me desperate."

"Desperation's not a good look on you." The movie switches off. "There's one thing I'd like, though. Tell your dad. Think you can do that?"

"Is that what this is about?"

"No, but it could be a step to solving it."

I'm feeling worn out already, and it's only been a few minutes. Casper waits on the other line like we're speaking of something mediocre, and even though I've got a shit ton to say, I don't say a word. I can't. The only thing I can do is remind myself to keep breathing right as I stare down at my shaking hands.

"I'll tell them," he says after a while. "Later on tonight. I'll do it."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. It'll be easier this time, and I think I'm actually ready. Before I was just trying to rush things but now I'm prepared. Mom, Dad, I'm pansexual. I've been dating my best friend behind your back. Whoops. It shouldn't be that hard, right?"

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