Letterman Jacket

17 / forty-three days before

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*

The looks and the whispers thankfully lessened over the past few days.

Life went on. School went on, and it was awfully difficult to snag a table all by yourself during these times of the school year when the workload was starting to weigh down on the students.

Luckily, I was able to claim a spot of my own after dashing towards the library when the bell for last period rang to signal the end of the class. Coffee shops were more convenient, where there were hot drinks that could keep us warm in the middle of this coldness, but they were too noisy. Distracting.

I wrapped myself up in the pink hoodie I wore and rubbed my hands together. My teeth chattered as I pressed my palms against my cheeks, eyes moving across the book spread out in front of me from one paragraph to the next.

A shadow fell over my table an hour later. Before I could look up, a gasp of surprise escaped my lips as the piece of cloth hit my face. My hands caught the item as it fell.

Nico sat on the chair across from me. "Stop leaving your things around."

"Wh-what?" I looked down at the red scarf in my hands and turned it over. My eyebrows furrowed as I returned my gaze to Nico's. "It's not mine. And couldn't you have just handed it to me like a normal person?"

"You left it on your desk in biology this morning," he said, mouth curling upwards to a lazy half-smile. "Just say thank you and I'll be on my way."

"It's not mine," I argued again, reaching the scarf out to him. "I didn't bring a scarf with me today."

"Then you're an idiot," he snapped, rolling his bright green eyes. "The fuck aren't you bringing a scarf for? It's like winter for fuck's sake."

I opened my mouth to snap back, but Nico beat me to it. "You're also an idiot for forgetting that you actually did bring one."

Taking a deep breath, I placed the cloth on the table and reached up to knead my fingers against my forehead. The ache that was starting to form from hours of studying eased up a bit. "If you could just...not insult me for a second—"

"Are you coming to the pep rally tonight?"

The sudden change of subject made my eyebrows raise. Nico stared back at me evenly, lips pressed to a thin line. "What?"

"Are you coming to the pep rally tonight?" he repeated slowly, emphasizing each word as if I were a toddler.

I leaned back against the chair, the urge to lash out at him at the tip of my tongue. "Yes, I think so, but why—"

"Don't."

"Excuse me?"

"Don't come," Nico said, standing up and pushing the chair back into its original place. "It's not your thing."

My eyes narrowed in anger. "How would you know what my thing is and what isn't?"

Nico cocked his head to the side. "Not that hard to figure out. Don't come. I don't want to see your face."

Before I could sputter out anything else, Nico turned and walked away.

My hands balled themselves into fists under the table. I wanted to scream, but the library wasn't the best place for it.

So I packed my stuff and left.

*

After the misfortune last Monday, Faust had picked me up at my house the next day with flowers and an explanation that his family had an important issue to attend to. Even though I'd forgiven him and we were back in a good place, the days that followed had given me a reason to worry—Faust's eyes would turn glassy and he would be lost in thought in the middle of our conversations. He'd said it was because he was nervous for the semifinals, but I couldn't help but wonder if it was something else.