Disequilibrium

Part 4: Senior Year - Scene 4

Fall

Despite what he said, Casper doesn't come to school for two days. I'm left wandering the halls alone, listening in on the excitement thrumming in the graduating class like an intruder. I eat lunch with his friends and laugh at their stupid jokes, but it isn't the same without him. It isn't bearable without him.

Sometimes one of them would ask, "Where's Casper?" like it was my duty to know. And I guess it kind of is, and maybe that's why I lie all the time. I don't think he's feeling well. He's probably visiting Winston. I saw him the other day—he's real broken up about the whole thing. And then we'd all smile sadly at each other like smiling would clear the all the goddamn tension in the air, but it's there to stay. I don't belong there. We all know that.

When I get home from school, the driveway is still empty. The house is the exact way I left it this morning except for the new bottle of orange juice sitting on the kitchen counter. I check around it to see if he left any change, but there isn't any. Just a note.

Put this in the fridge for me, will you? And clean the bathroom.

I don't know what it is about it that pisses me off so much, but soon enough, the orange juice ends up flying across the room, smashing against the wall before spilling all over the floor. I stare at the mess for a moment, my heart rate quickening before I rush out the door like my life depends on it.

The air around me feels tight again, and it takes a few to get my feet moving towards Nichole's place in long, quick steps. I pound both fists on her door about seven times until it swings open, revealing her in a tank top, short shorts, and a light sweater.

Her face is a mess.

"Holden? What's wrong? Why do you look like that?"

I lean against the doorway, taking a deep breath. "Can I come in?"

"Yeah, yeah, of course," she says, pulling me in by my arm. Her place is a little messy compared to the last time I was here. There are things sprawled about, some packed neatly in boxes while others wait to be sorted. My eyes wander over them for a moment before Nichole guides me to the couch, pushing away a few things to make room for me.

"Are you rearranging or something?" I ask, still staring at the boxes.

Nichole looks at me for a moment before she smiles, shaking her head and taking a seat at the armchair. "No, not rearranging. But let's talk about you first. What's up? With the way you were abusing the door, I'm guessing something bad happened again."

I can't help but laugh at that, short and quick. "Something bad is always happening. No matter what I do to make things work it always goes to shit. All the time. I can't stand it."

"Is it Casper again?"

I nod, staring down at my shoes. "Yeah, well, kind of. He hasn't been in school for two days now. Anytime I try to call, he won't pick up. Dad isn't home either, and sometimes I feel like I'm losing my goddamn mind because of it." I put my head in my hands. "I don't think he gets it. I try to tell him, but he doesn't get that this—what he's doing—is killing me. It's breaking me. It's fucking me over."

She puts a hand on my knee. Damn, Nichole. I think she has a thing with putting her hand on people's knees. Like it'll stop them from falling apart or something. "Sometimes when things don't work out no matter how hard you try, it's best to let them go," she says. "It doesn't mean you're weak or you don't care. It just means it isn't meant to be, you know? I think it takes greater courage to let something go than to keep trying to make it work."

I raise my head, staring at her like she just said the stupidest thing in the entire world. "You want me to let go of him?"

"It's not up to me, but if this is going to continue I just think it's best—"