May the Best Ex Win

30 | You're Mad at Me?

By the time I found the will to head back inside, everyone was leaving the auditorium and heading to lunch.

I'd been eating by myself since Tuesday, hiding out in Mr. Hawthorne's room and pretending to study. I didn't want to sit back at my old table. I was too angry with Hank and the others for everything— all the picking on random students that I'd been brushing under the rug, the fact that they'd gone back on their promise to me, and most of all, everything they said about Emily. 

Not to mention, seeing them would only remind me of how I didn't keep my promise to her.

I made it halfway to what I guessed was going to be my lunch spot for the rest of the year before I felt a hand on my shoulder and turned around. Hank was there, his eyebrows raised as if asking an unspoken question.

When I just stared at him, he finally elaborated. "Dude? Where've you been?"

A few people brushed past us and I maneuvered to the wall, trying to get out of everyone's way. I didn't even know what to say to that— had he gotten a concussion since Tuesday? Was he suffering from memory loss?

"If it's about what happened on Tuesday, me and the guys aren't mad. What happened with Emily, by the way? She quit?"

"I— What?" I shook my head, not believing what I was hearing. "You're not mad? You think I'm not hanging out with you guys because I'm worried you're mad at me?"

His eyebrows raised for a different reason this time. Clearly, he wasn't expecting that kind of response.

"What could you possibly be mad at me for?" I snapped. I didn't care that people were turning their heads in our direction, or that Hank was giving me his famous don't mess with me look. All I cared about was setting the record straight— I was finally ready to speak up, and I didn't care about the outcome. "For caring about the campaign that you agreed to support? For making a friend who isn't in your approved social circle?"

"You're mad at me?" he finally gathered.

"Mad is putting it lightly. You've never met Emily, okay? You had no right to talk about her the way you did." Just remembering his words and the look on her face made me want to start the fistfight I'd been craving on Tuesday. 

I took a deep breath, pushing the thought out of my head. I had a point here, and I wasn't going to let myself dumb it down with violence. "And you know what? You were right. I am acting different because of her— for the better. I'm done acting like an ass just to get approval from you and everyone else. So why don't you let me know when you're ready to focus on something other than yourself, okay?" I flipped his words from the other day, lingering for only a second to relish in the way his jaw dropped.

Adrenaline toured every square inch of my body as I walked down to Hawthorne's room. I was angry and pumped up and even scared all at once. My hands slowly uncurled as my body caught up with my brain, accepting the absence of a fight. 

I knew it wasn't really Hank I wanted to fight— I was mad, but it wasn't all because of him. I was the reason behind most of my anger, and it wouldn't be fair to take it out on him. 

As I calmed down it struck me how easy it was to take a stand, even after years of suppressing the urge and repeating all the possible consequences like some sort of mantra. But when my eyes found a familiar head of unruly red hair peeking out from behind an open locker, I knew some things would be a lot harder.

"Ronald?" I approached him from the other side of the locker door. I couldn't shake off the way my gut twisted when he flinched in response. His eyes were wide as they met mine for a second before looking around— probably for Hank. "Hi."

"Hi?" he replied, silently asking why I was acknowledging him.

"Um, I don't really know how to say this," I admitted, tugging nervously at the strap of my backpack. I met the eyes of a few watching students, who probably figured they were about to get entertainment at Ronald's expense like usual. "I'm sorry. For everything— all that stuff with Hank, I mean. I know it probably doesn't mean much after how much of a jerk I was, but..." I trailed off, not knowing what else to say. I just knew that if I didn't say something, I would regret it. "I just wanted you to know."

He held my eye contact for a few seconds, the skepticism on his face slowly fading before he gave a single nod. "Thanks."

I nodded back as he closed his locker and walked away. Ronald wasn't the only person I'd done wrong, and I knew that there were more apologies to be made. But I felt lighter, like a weight had disappeared. 

Maybe I was alone now, but maybe it was better to be alone than to be with the wrong people. Still, I wished there was a way I could convince the right person to give me another chance.