The Choreographer

11: Silent Treatment

"Hey, are you busy?" Harry asks me. His voice sounds small and timid.

It's been two weeks since Harry told me he loved me, and, I am ashamed to admit that I have ignored him since. I told him I was busy, or tired when he wanted to come over. In part, that was true, I have been busy getting ready for The Nutcracker. I'm dancing as Clara, and while it's a small theatre, it's still a lot to learn. Especially because we preform in two weeks.

"Harry I -" I begin to make my excuses.

"Please." He utters. One word. The tone of his voice breaks my heart.

"I'm in my pajamas." I tell him.

"You know I don't care." He says. "I'll be there soon."

I hang up to avoid a goodbye. I don't know why, but I don't want to hear him say it. I doze off on my couch until a knock at the door draws me out of my dreamland.

"Hello." I say, opening the door to a very reserved looking Harry.

"Hey," he says, I can hear the excitement in his voice and it hurts me.

I close the door behind him as he walks into my apartment.

"How's The Nutcracker?" He asks me. "All the tickets have already sold out for the ballet. I'm lucky I got one." He got a ticket? "You know it's because of you," he asks cautiously "don't you?"

I wave my hand. I don't want to talk about ballet, or how I've been spiraling back into it, making it my deep twisted obsession. I've lost ten pounds, and I need to stop, but I can't. After telling Harry about me, about her...I lost control, it was unsettling that he loved me, and now I could no longer pretend that nothing was wrong.

"Isabel? You look pale. And thinner. Are you hungry? Do you need water?" He fires one comment after the other.

I ignore him. He has a way of getting me to spill my secrets. I ignore him as he scoots closer to me, as he admires his bracelet on my wrist, and as he places kisses on all of my fingers. I ignore his pleas for me to talk to him. I'm waiting it out. Soon he will crack, and leave.

"Izzy - Bell," he says softly into my ear "you look sick." As if to punctuate his claim I sneeze. I begin to feel light headed.

"Let's go out to dinner." He tells me.

I don't respond.

I can see him watching me in my peripheral vision.

"I've missed you." He tells me. What is with this boy and dropping emotional bombs on me. It's like it's WWII and I'm Hiroshima.

This was exactly why I didn't want to have Harry over.

"Have you missed me?" He pries.

I don't answer. I weight the outcome of what will happen if I answer. If I say no, I lie, but he'll leave. If I say yes, I tell the truth, but he'll stay.

"It's a yes or no question Miss Masterson." He says to me gently.

I turn to look at him, taking in the vulnerability on his face.

"You can't do this Isabel." He tells me.

"Do what?" I finally say, I can tell this catches him off guard.

"Be all cold and rude, and act like that's who you are. Because I've seen you, and I know that's who you are."

I shake my head at his accusation. He has no idea who I am. He hardly knows me.

I watch as he puts a letter on my coffee table. He stands up. I find myself a little sad that he might be leaving. But not sad enough to ask him to stay. Instead, he sits down again and takes my hands. I find myself watching his fingers rubbing circles on my hands, somewhat soothed by his small gesture. When I look up at him he's watching my face. "Goodbye." He says to me as he kisses my forehead. I wonder if it was a goodbye forever goodbye. I surprise myself by waving at him as he walks out the door. I look at the letter he left me on the table. I hide it under the couch cushions and walk into my bedroom.