All the Feels

by Heather Nuhfer

  “With the stress of the wedding and all of the preparation you’ve helped with, I thought a personal day would be wise. Health-wise.”

  “I, uh, have a math test today,” I said. It sounded better than me trying to explain how I needed to get to school to pass a note I hadn’t even read that still, somehow, made me very nervous.

  “That’s next Friday,” Ms. Watson corrected me, and pointed to a new calendar that was stuck to the front of the fridge.

  I walked over and looked at it. It listed every single test. Every single appointment. Reminders for yearly physicals, furnace check-ups, and water filter change dates were there, too.

  “As you can see,” she continued as she filled her coffee cup, “all you have at school today is an assembly this afternoon. An ideal day for this.”

  “But I would be alone all day,” I heard myself say. I couldn’t believe I was protesting a day off of school that was being handed to me on a platter!

  “I took the day off as well,” Ms. Watson said. “We would be together. Then this evening we’d be all refreshed for the party.”

  “What’s up?” Dad asked me. “I thought you’d be spouting out fireworks. Or at least doing cartwheels.”

  “Are you kidding?” I forced a smile. “This is amazing! But I can’t.”

  Both Dad and Ms. Watson looked at me like I was bananas.

  “I know how it sounds!” I laughed. “But there are still party favors in the art room that I need to get for tonight.” That, thankfully, was true! Phew.

  “We can pick them up on the way to the party,” Ms. Watson decided.

  “I meant there are still favors I need to make with the stuff in the art room.” That, bummerfully, was not true.

  “I’m sure we’ll be just fine without them,” Dad insisted.

  “No, this was my responsibility. I really want to do it right,” I told him. “I better hurry or I’ll miss Charlie.”

  “I already had Rik text him that you were staying home today,” Ms. Watson said.

  “Oh. Well, a walk by myself won’t kill me, right, Dad?”

  “My little trouper,” Dad said proudly.

  “Seriously, Veronica, you should just stay home.”

  Dad and I turned to look at Ms. Watson, shocked.

  “Did you just call me ‘Veronica’?” I asked.

  “I think I did,” she said, almost as surprised as we were.

  “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but we can’t force her to skip school,” Dad said. “Go learn something!” He laughed and gave me a smooch on the head. “See you tonight, party princess.”

  “I’ll see you tonight,” I answered cheerfully as I shot out the door.

  * * *

  I had, indeed, missed Charlie. In fact, I had missed everyone. I barely made it to homeroom. Luckily, my fortunes improved when I went to art class. Betsy was there working on one of the computers!

  “Here. I got this on accident,” I said as I handed her the purple treasure trove of secrets.

  “You read it?” she asked.

  “No. No!” I reassured her. “I definitely did not.”

  She grabbed my hand and put the note back in it. “Read it.”

  “It’s for me?”

  She shook her head.

  “I don’t understand—”

  “Read it. But not in front of everyone. Come on.” She gestured for me to follow her. Betsy grabbed the hall pass off the art teacher’s desk and ushered me down the hall and into the girls’ bathroom.

  Suddenly, what I had wanted to do so badly last night was the last thing in the world I wanted to do now.

  The other girls in the bathroom spotted Betsy and cleared out. Once they were out of earshot, Betsy nodded at me.

  “If this is between you and Charlie, maybe I shouldn’t be involved,” I suggested. My arm was still stretched out to her, and I was holding the note with just the very tips of my fingers.

  She gnawed on her lip before saying, “I need your help.”

  “But it’s folded so nicely,” I said nervously, stalling for time.

  She rolled her eyes and grabbed the note back, prying it completely open in a millisecond and pushing it deeply into my palm.

  “There.”

  “Betsy, I don’t know if I’m comfortable with this. In fact, I’m not.”

  She looked at the floor and let out an annoyed sigh. “Please?” she mumbled.

  That’s when I turned into a giant jack-in-the box and bobbed wildly around the room on my giant spring. Okay, so that didn’t happen, but I liked to think that is what would have happened if I still had my powers. I was that surprised to hear Betsy say please.

  “Uh, okay,” I said as I pulled at the edges of the note, smoothing it out. “Do you want me to read it out loud?”

  “No. Definitely not,” she said. Then Betsy turned away from me and began pacing.

  Okay, Veri, prepare to be grossed out, I told myself. But as I started reading, my heart sank. This wasn’t a love note. It was a heartbreaker note. Betsy was telling him she didn’t like him the way he liked her.

  “Oh,” I said quietly. “That’s why things were so weird at ice cream.”

  “Yeah,” Betsy answered. “I thought he had gotten the note and just hadn’t read it yet. It wasn’t until later when Charlie was all … Charlie … that I realized you had gotten it instead.”

  It was definitely a letter written by Betsy. And I use the term letter loosely. It was only three sentences:

  Sorry, dude. I only want to be friends. That’s all.

  Betsy looked at me with hopeful eyes. “So?”

  “It’s a little harsh,” I admitted.

  “But I said ‘sorry,’” Betsy explained.

  “Yeah, but you didn’t tell him why or anything.”

  “I don’t think he’s cute,” she said bluntly.

  “Hmm. Okay, maybe don’t lead with that.”

  “Well, I mean, he’s cute like my little brother is cute. Also annoying like him. Should I have said that?”

  “No. Definitely don’t do that either. Just talk to him like … like…” I struggled for a comparison.

  “Like I was you?” Betsy interrupted.

  “For lack of better a word, yes.”

  “Why did he have to go there? Things were fine between us. More than fine!” she said in an octave higher than I’d ever heard her use. “I’m not good at this stuff like you, Veronica.”

  “I’m not ‘good’ at this stuff!” I told her. Really, what was this vibe I was giving off? First Charlie wanted help wooing, then Betsy wanted help breaking.

  She finally stopped pacing and looked up at me, a steely darkness in her eyes.

  “You are gonna tell him, weirdo.”

  It was a tone I hadn’t heard in a while, but one I knew very well. Unfortunately, this time, despite the primal fear it stabbed into my guts, I couldn’t give in.

  I tiptoed backward a few feet before telling her, “I can’t, Betsy. I won’t. Even if you beat me up. I can’t do this to Charlie.”

  She stepped toward me and I instinctively put my arms up in an X to cover my face.

  “I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” I cried out.

  “Dude! Chill!” she said. “I wasn’t going to hit you.”

  Slowly I lowered my arms until I could get a peek at her. She didn’t look mad. She actually looked sad.

  Betsy shook her head. “After everything we’ve been through the past few months, you think I would do that?”

  I slid my arms down my sides. “Old habits, I guess.”

  “I, um, I’m sorry, Veronica. I’m not used to the whole ‘friend’ thing,” she confessed. “Or, really, the ‘apologizing’ thing either.”

  “It’s okay,” I told her.

  “I’m sorry,” she repeated. “That’s why all of this with Charlie is so hard. It took forever just for me to write I was sorry in the note. And I just want to be friends! It’s a disaster.”

  I couldn’t help but feel b
ad for her. But, honestly, I was a little happy for me. True, it was terrible that Charlie was going to get knocked back, but that was always gonna happen, right? It’s not like they were meant to be! Like they were going to get married one day or something! We could let him down in the most gentle, humane way possible, and then I’d get my Charlie back. Decision made.

  “I’ll help you. I won’t tell Charlie for you, but I’ll help you tell him in the best way you can.”

  “Thank you,” she said, relieved. “Again, I’m super sorry.”

  “You can probably stop apologizing now.” I chuckled.

  “It’s kind of addictive. Sort of takes some weight off your shoulders. It’s freeing. I’m sorry, Veronica!”

  “Okay, please stop now. We have work to do.”

  “I’m sorry I delayed the work because of my apologies.” She was hamming it up now.

  “Betsy!”

  “Sorry!”

  * * *

  We went back to art class and did a very un-art-class thing: We wrote a breakup letter for a relationship that never even happened.

  “Holy cow,” Betsy rasped. “That’s amazing. It’s like what I’m feeling, but in words.”

  I nodded. It was a pretty good letter, for something you use to destroy the heart of a young man. I had been careful to not use any cliché things like, “It’s not you, it’s me,” even if that one was pretty applicable. Instead I stuck to facts but smooshed a lot of flattery in with them. I don’t know what that would be called. Let’s call it flacterry. Charlie was amazing. True. Betsy wasn’t ready for a relationship. True. Betsy respected him so much that she wanted to always be friends and not risk ruining it with an attempt at dating. Flacterry. But most importantly, he needed to know that she’d always be there for him no matter what he said or did. Flacterry for Betsy, fact for me. Not gonna lie, writing it had made me a bit more emotional than I had anticipated. Though is that really something you can anticipate? I hope having to write a heartbreaker note to your best friend for your former enemy isn’t a standard middle-school thing.

  “Do you feel that?” Lizzie asked everyone.

  “That misty feeling?” Dean answered.

  “Yeah. It’s like we’re in the misty mountains or something.”

  I held my hand out to feel the air. It did feel a little damp.

  “Might be something’s up with the cleaning station?” Betsy suggested.

  “Oh, yeah, it has that misty sanitizer thing,” I remembered.

  Lizzie nodded in agreement and went back to sculpting an eyeball.

  A few minutes later the bell rang.

  “You’ll be ready?” Betsy asked as we were about to head our separate ways.

  “Yeah, but don’t tell him I already knew.”

  “I won’t.”

  I wished I could leave a stupidmessage for Charlie today, but all I could do was wait. I knew Betsy was giving him the note near the end of the day, but who could be sure when he would actually read it? It was a rather torturous day, to be honest, but when I went to get my backpack to go meet my mom, I knew it had happened. Charlie was slumped into his locker. Like, literally into his locker. No sight of his head whatsoever.

  You don’t know. You don’t know, I reminded myself as I walked up to him.

  “Hey, what up, bud?” I said in a waaaaaaaaay too cheery voice.

  “Umph.”

  “You okay?” I asked as I moved over to my locker and got my stuff out.

  He pulled himself out of his locker. His face was red and a little puffy.

  “You aren’t okay. Come on.” I grabbed both of our backpacks and guided him back to the art room. The scene of the crime. It felt strange to take him there, but it was the only place I knew would be deserted. Plus, I had to pick up my party favors.

  As weirdness would have it, Charlie sat down right in the same seat where Betsy had sat while we wrote the note. I sat next to him, exactly where I had sat with Betsy.

  I didn’t want to start, so I put my hand on his shoulder and gave it a little squeeze.

  He let out a deep breath and then said, “Betsy doesn’t like me.”

  I was still getting my bearings.

  “She doesn’t like me like that, I mean,” he added. Probably because of my silence.

  “Oh. I’m so sorry.”

  “Like, I get it, all right, I’ve seen my share of romcoms. Sometimes it’s just not there or whatever, that’s not her fault, but it’s … it’s…” He trailed off.

  “It’s what?”

  “It’s bloody embarrassing! Everyone’s gonna know now.”

  “Yeah,” I agreed.

  “Veri!”

  “So what if they do?”

  “It will be sooo embarrassing!”

  “Well,” I said, still thinking it through, “we know they will know. There isn’t anything we can do about that.”

  Charlie plopped his forehead onto the table.

  “But,” I added, “why should you care? It’s not fair to have to fake what’s going on with you just to save face or whatever.”

  “That sounds like Rik advice.” His voice was muffled.

  Ew. He was right.

  “Well, it’s probably good advice then. Hard, infuriating advice, but good advice.”

  “If things are cool with Betsy, then what does it matter?”

  “Things aren’t cool with Bets.”

  “Are you sure? I’d assume she still really wants to be friends with you. Do you—”

  Charlie flung his head back up and interrupted me. “Do I want to build a time machine and go back and never tell her any of the stuff I told her? Why, yes. Yes I do.”

  “Oh, Charlie, I wish we could. At least things can go back to being normal. She can be our distant friend and all that.”

  “I don’t want to be distant friends with her, Veri!” he said, upset. “She is our friend. And she cares about you a lot!”

  “Sorry,” I said. “I was just trying to cheer you up.”

  “It’s okay.” He sighed. “What do I say to her now? Talk about awkward.” Charlie let out an epic groan. “At least I have the weekend and won’t see her for a bit.”

  I cringed. “Party tonight.”

  “Ahh!” Charlie tipped his chair completely over, falling to the floor dramatically. Luckily, it made us both laugh.

  “Remind me to never like anyone ever again, okay?” he said, looking up at me.

  “Roger that.”

  “Wanna stop off somewhere on our way home and stuff our faces?”

  “I wish I could. I’m…” I stopped.

  “Yes?”

  “I’m meeting my mom.”

  Charlie sighed. “You’re lucky I am emotionally drained. I can’t even fight with you about that.”

  Speaking of which, I knew I was about to be super late for meeting her.

  “Will you be okay for the next hour or so?” I asked. “We’ll figure it out. I promise. I’ll even be there when you talk to Betsy if you want.”

  “I’m just going to wallow here for a little while,” he said, covering his face with his arms.

  “On the floor?”

  “Yep. Maybe it will open up and suck me in.”

  “I’ll see you at six, okay?” I gently shook his arm.

  Charlie lifted one elbow, so I could see an eye.

  “You’ll really be okay?” I asked.

  “Yes. Will you?”

  “Of course. It’s my mom,” I said, rolling my eyes.

  “Remember me…,” Charlie crackled, pretending to die as I walked out of the art room.

  * * *

  I was so relieved to see Mom’s SUV waiting on the corner. She was inside, puffing intently on a cigarette. I walked up and went to open the passenger-side door, but it was locked, so I knocked on the window. She rolled the window down.

  “So?” she asked without looking at me.

  “I’m sorry I’m late. There was this thing with Charlie…”

  “Get in,” she in
structed. “We are way behind schedule.”

  Once I was buckled in and we were driving, I didn’t know what to say. Mom lit a new cigarette with the last bit of the old one. It wasn’t like her to smoke in front of me. I knew Dad would have a lot of questions if I came home smelling like smoke, but I was too scared to ask her to put it out. She looked really mad, so I decided I would just be quiet. Sometimes when Dad got upset, he needed to take a few minutes to collect himself. And sometimes he suggested I do the same. We ended up driving all the way to her apartment without saying a word. After she parked, we both sat in the steely silence without moving.

  Finally, she turned to look at me and let out a puff of smoke. “Maybe this was a bad idea.”

  “What?” I said quietly.

  “Us. Trying to act normal when we can’t even keep our promises to meet at specific times. I’m sure you are still keeping all of this from your father?”

  “Just for now,” I told her. “I thought things were going really well. Very normal. I don’t have my powers anymore and we get along great. I think. And since things are changing at Dad’s house so much and you and I haven’t gotten a lot of time together over the years … well, I was hoping I could maybe come live with you?”

  She looked stunned. “Live with me?”

  I held my breath.

  CHAPTER TEN

  THE POWERS THAT BE

  “I noticed you have a spare room,” I said sheepishly to my mom. “If you don’t like the way Dad is raising me, then maybe you could start doing it instead?”

  I felt my chin tremble, so I bit my lip to stabilize it. It was a hard thing to say. I didn’t think Dad was doing a bad job raising me. I really didn’t. And Mom’s disapproval of him really rubbed me the wrong way, but … but. Big freaking but. What else could I do? Dad didn’t need me anymore, and going with Mom would be my first, and probably only, shot at being normal. I wanted to believe this other stuff between the two of them could be worked out and that they could be civil to each other. That’s all I was hoping for, not friendship or getting back together like people do in movies.

  Bzz! Bzz!

  “Seriously? Does your phone ever stop?” she said, annoyed.

  I took a quick look at the screen. I was supposed to be home with Dad, prepping for his bachelor party. “Who’s ready to Par-tayyy?” his text read, along with a pic of Einstein wearing a very snazzy dog bowtie.