Two Birds, One Stone

20. Hard Heart

I felt better on Tuesday.

     Not good. Not exactly okay, either. But better.

     I didn't bother looking in the mirror as I got ready for school. I knew I would look exactly how I felt — seeing it wouldn't do me any good.

    I trudged out of the house on heavy feet without eating breakfast or greeting my parents. I knew it was unfair, but right now -- for the first time in years -- I resented them for mistakes they couldn't go back and fix.

     I didn't think about the day ahead. I didn't try to plan what I would say to Jamie, or imagine what he would say to me -- I didn't let myself. For all I knew, thinking about it would result in me panicking on the way to school and crashing my car. It was a startling thing, being wary of my own mind.

     When I got to school, I saw Bryan in the morning. He asked me if I was okay. I said no. He asked why. I told him I didn't want to talk about it. He didn't push it.

     I looked for Jamie all day, knowing I was nowhere near ready to see him but desperate for a glimpse of his face. With every ring of the bell, my stomach tied in knots, and soon, it was impossible to think about anything but what would happen when my time ran out and he was right in front of me. I groaned under my breath when fifth period ended and it was time for lunch -- once I walked out to our spot and saw him, everything would be up in the air and I would have nowhere to go but to him. The thought of being with him, after everything that had crossed my mind, was enough to make the world spin dizzyingly around me. But the thought of being without him after everything that had crossed my mind made my world come to a sudden halt, and somehow, that was monuments worse. I wasn't sure any part of me was ready to accept everything that came with him, but I was sure I couldn't bear the nothing I felt without him.

     I could run. Of course I could run, I was dying to run. But if I ran, I knew without a doubt that he would be gone when I looked back. This was my chase, and if I wanted to make things right, I'd have to somehow swallow my nerves and face him. 

     There was no if, really. I had to make things right. He might not let me, but I'd be damned if I didn't try.

    When I got to lunch, however — to the usual spot with Jamie and Bryan and Vanessa — the person I needed to see the most wasn't there. Vanessa must have noticed my expression, because she shrugged and said, "He wasn't here yesterday, either. I'm not sure where he's sitting."

     "Did you guys fall out?" Bryan asked quietly, careful not to pry too deep. I didn't answer, which was answer enough on its own. I wordlessly sat down next to them, pulled out my headphones, shut my eyes, and tuned out the conversation. It was rude, but compared to what I'd done a few days ago, it was nothing, and I didn't have a speck of space in my mind to feel bad for it. Bryan knew me well enough — he knew I would tell him when I wanted to.

    When the bell for sixth period rang, my time to prepare myself came to a winding halt. Unless Jamie skipped the class to avoid me, or had skipped school altogether, he was about to see me. And I was about to see him. I wasn't sure which was worse, but I was about to find out. 

     He was there. When I walked in, the first thing I saw -- the only thing I saw -- was him, sat in his usual seat, with his eyes trained on his desk and his hands clasped too-tightly in his lap. I paused in the doorway, pushing my hands into my pockets. 

     I was supposed to sit next to him. I was supposed to take the desk in front of his, turn around in my seat, and help him through the lesson. I was supposed to flirt with him under my breath and reach for his pencil right when he did so our hands would touch. I was supposed to feel all flustered and giddy when he winked at me in return.