Chapter Eleven: It's Supposed To Be a Girl's Bathroom

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I don't know exactly where I thought I was headed with a smoothie-soaked sweatshirt and a quickly dissolving King Lear script, but I ended up wandering into the little pavilion at the center of the park. As soon as I pushed past the door to the girl's bathroom I started crying. I wasn't sad, not at all, but I was angry. So, freaking pissed that I was crying. I set my stuff on the counter and aggressively wiped the tears off my cheek. God! I needed to get my shit together. I was just turning the faucet on to try and rinse my sweatshirt when I heard a knock on the door.

"Carmen? You in there?"

Oh, goody.

"Not now, Max!" I yelled out. I did not need him to be here right now. I really didn't.

He knocked again, softer this time. "Can I come in? Please?"

I sighed, "Fine."

He opened the door and peeked his head in. Tentatively, he took a step inside and looked around. He walked up to the counter and stopped like a foot away from me. For a second, he just stood there.

"You okay?"

"I don't know, Max. What do you think?" I wasn't trying to snap at him. It just happened.

He stood there for a second longer looking like he was trying to figure out what to say and I gave up, turning on the faucet and picking up my sweatshirt.

"I'm sorry." His voice was barely audible over the sink, so I turned it off and met his eyes through the mirror.

"For what, exactly? I mean, you didn't do anything. Right?" I probably should've just taken his apology and moved on, but I was way too petty to do that.

He darted his eyes away from mine and stared at the sink in front of him. "I didn't know what was gonna happen. I just... Harper asked me to grab your script for her and..." He met my eyes again, "I'm sorry."

"Sorry? You helped her destroy my stuff, but you're SORRY?" My voice rose a bit higher than I wanted it to, but I really couldn't help it. I was pissed.

I turned to face him and took a step towards him. "I'm supposed to believe that you just thought she needed to look at my script in a rehearsal with TWENTY SOMETHING OTHER ONES LAYING AROUND?!"

"I'm sorry. She said she was just gonna give you shit about the stickers and then put yours in your script during your scene. I didn't think she'd ever..." He stopped and just stood there for a second. His eyes suddenly seemed fixed to the floor.

"I just wanted you to know that I never would've been a part of it if I knew what was happening. Never. And I'm sorry that your stuff got ruined and I'm sorry that I was a part of it and I'm sorry that you're crying and I'm just sorry." He looked up again. "Okay? I'm sorry. I don't know what else to say."

I was not ready to let go, but I knew that I needed to pretend to move on right now. I'd get my revenge later. At least now I knew he deserved it and wasn't just collateral damage.

"Okay." His eyes didn't leave mine and I saw a little hope flash into them.

"Okay?" It didn't sound like a rhetorical type of question.

"Okay."

He smiled a little.

"See you tomorrow?" He seemed surprised at my question.

"Um...yeah, okay. I guess, see you tomorrow then." His smile grew a little and he paused for a second, twitching like he didn't know what was supposed to come next. Then he reached out and awkwardly patted my shoulder before walking out.

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