by Susan Oloier
Eli
I storm into the classroom. She’s in the back row. Same seat as before. She cringes when she sees me. Of course I’m angry. She bailed on me, left me sitting in Palmers like a total idiot. I honestly believed there was something between us. How could I have been so blind? I can’t imagine what happened, but she better freaking well have a good explanation for why she ditched me.
“What happened?” I slide behind my desk and drop my backpack on the floor. “Please tell me you saved an old woman from a purse napper. Something.” I want there to be a real reason. One that has absolutely nothing to do with the guy from her past. What’s his name? Cal?
“I…” she begins when Langley calls me to the front of the room.
“Sh—” I slip back out of my chair and head toward Langley’s desk. “What’s up?” I ask.
“We need to chat.”
“Okay?” I don’t like the sound of this.
“Since the projects are due in a couple of weeks, and I know you’ve experienced a huge setback,” Langley sends an irked look toward Hailey’s desk, “I’m going to give you until after the winter break.”
“Excuse me?” I say. “What setback?”
Langley leans forward on her desk, propping her hand in her chin. “She didn’t tell you.” It’s a statement, not a question.
“Tell me what?” Now I’m concerned.
“She’s taking a zero. She said she told you she’s not your partner anymore.” Langley heaves a drawn-out sigh.
“Wait.” My hands go to my hair in frustration. “What?” I turn my gaze on Hailey who pretends to study notes in front of her. “She’s not doing the project?”
“No,” Langley says. “I’m sorry.”
I stand stunned, and I know Langley waits for me to return to my seat. I glance at her for direction, but what more can she do? She can’t force Hailey to be my Hamlet partner anymore than I can force Hailey to have dinner with me or even like me. I nod and return to my desk. I have a hard time looking at Hailey now. Not only did she leave me stranded with two expensive meals, but she’d rather accept a zero than work on an English Lit project with me. How flattering.
“Why?’ I finally ask her.
She faces me with a stoic and unmoving look. “I can’t do this.”
“Do what?” I ask, exasperated. “Have dinner? Work on an English project?”
“Us,” she says now into her notebook. She’s afraid to look me in the eye.
“Because of what? Madeline? Jeremy?” I try hard to contain my anger. I don’t need any reruns from last year. But she says nothing. Nothing. “I don’t get you, Hailey. One moment you’re into me and the next it’s like I’m chopped liver.”
“You’re not chopped liver,” she barely utters. “It’s just, you’re…”
“I’m what? I really want to know.” But she refuses to finish her sentence. She lets me fill in the blanks myself. And the word picture I paint for myself is simultaneously confusing and unflattering.
I should have stuck with my initial plan. No more girls. Live and learn.
Hailey
I feel like the worst person in the entire world. And I should feel that way. I’m insensitive and cruel. I’m a murderer. I didn’t deserve Jeremy. And as sure as everything I am, I’m not worthy of someone as wonderful as Eli either.
Eli tried to coerce an explanation out of me, but I ignored him and let him agonize over the reasons I ditched him in every way I could. I know it’s not fair. I know it’s deliberately hurtful, but in the end it’s for the best.
I turn my back on him at the end of class and waltz out of the room as if none of this bothers me at all. But it does. It hurts. Badly. My heart has already begun to open to him when I’ve worked so hard to keep in closed off to any feelings other than pain and numbness.
There’s no way I can sit through Math. My concentration will be given over to the damage I’ve done to Jeremy and Eli. I killed the one physically and the other emotionally. And I’m sure each is equally bad. But at least Eli will have the opportunity to move on and find someone else who is worthy of his affection, sweetness, and love. Jeremy, on the other hand, will never have another chance.
I bypass Calculus. Keep going. There’s a temptation to walk right out the front doors and keep going until I run into a dead end somewhere. Instead, I meander around the school and find my way to the theater. It’s empty save a couple of overhead lights. A rickety piano sits off to stage right. I pad down the aisle, careful to avoid anybody who may bust a truant senior who should be in Calculus during second period. But no one is around. No one.
I climb the stairs to the stage and set my book bag down. A huge swell of emotion explodes inside me because being in this setting reminds me of all the dance competitions Jeremy and I participated in. Won. I haven’t danced in over five months. Would he have wanted that? Likely it would break his heart to know I’d given it up because of what happened, because he’s no longer around.
I close my eyes and relive the dream I had with him. How we danced together to our song. I can almost hear the music again and sense him near. Then I feel the rhythm inside of me, moving throughout my body. I extend my arms and allow my feet to follow; flowing with what I believe is the tempo and musicality of the song in my head. It all comes back so naturally to me; the movements help me forget all the other garbage accumulating in my head. Then I realize how very much I’ve missed this. How Jeremy’s death shouldn’t stop me from dancing. Instead, it should be a way to continue to be with him. At least in spirit.
But then Eli’s words rush toward me at freight-train speed: So what? You never dance again because someone you loved died? And I’m immediately back to thinking about Eli. I drop down to the stage floor and fold my torso over my legs and remain that way until the tears subside. I pull myself from the ground like a withered flower rallying one more time for sun. I need something, anything to get me through all of this confusion and sorrow.
I push my way out of the theater and into the fluorescent light of the hallway. I catch up with Stella after the end of second period. “I need a cigarette or something,” I blurt as I get in stride with her.
We stroll down the hallway, pushing through a current of bodies, yet almost oblivious to all of them.
“You don’t smoke,” she says. “Is this about Eli? Because I heard.”
“Heard what?” I reel on her, my voice defensive.
“Hey! Don’t attack me.” Stella pulls me off to the edge of the hallway against the lockers and glances around. “I heard you stood him up,” she whispers as though she’s saving me from the eavesdropping and rumor-spreading around us. “What’s up with that?”
I look away in order to avoid her judgmental expression. I can hear myself breathing through my thoughts, trying to figure out how to explain it all to her. How can she ever know what it’s like to fall for someone when you’re supposed to grieve the death of another? She doesn’t—she can never know.
I conjure an explanation. One sufficient enough to keep her from ever bothering me about what I did to Eli again. “He told me. About him and Madeline,” I continue as if I have to spell it all out for her.
“That’s why?” she asks, totally shocked. “But he told you what she did, right?”
“Yeah. But do you really believe him?” I feel my insides squeeze with each additional word of my lie. It seems like I’m taking a knife and physically stabbing Eli in the gut with it. But I keep going anyway. It’s the only way to sever whatever’s tying us to one another.
She glances toward the ceiling, considering. “Well…yeah?”
“I don’t know,” I say. “I just can’t be with someone like that.”
“I honestly don’t think he wanted things to…” she lowers her voice even more, “…turn out the way they did.” Concern presses its way into the contours of her face.
“I have enough drama in my life,” I say, trying a different angle altogether. “The last thing I need is some guy’s drama,
too. You know what I mean?” I sound so flippant—so contrary to how I actually feel, which is blasphemous when it comes to Eli and the way I truly see him. I think I missed my calling as an actress.
“Some guy,” she parrots, though it is mainly to herself. “He may be some guy, Hailey. But he’s not just any guy. That’s for sure.”
I know it. I do—with all of my heart. I’ve seen the way he is, borne witness to it, been the recipient of it. I don’t believe for a minute he is anything outside of wonderful, which is why I need to end it before it begins.
“So how are things with you and Nate?” I change the subject.
“Great.” She says, but she still sounds all mopey because of the Eli thing. “The band is playing this Friday. I’d ask you to go, but…”
“I’ll go,” I say, knowing full well I can talk any bartender into giving me beer or cocktails. It’s just the antidote I need to stave off my impeding depression. If Wheeler won’t write a script for Prozac or Lexapro or whatever the medication is that’ll make me happy, then I’ll take care of matters myself. Because God knows I cannot endure the pain and suffering for much longer.
“You will?”
“Yeah.” I sound way perkier than I feel. Stella looks suspicious.
“Okay? Gotta go.” She points down the hallway to where Nate stands, waiting. The bell is going to ring at any moment.
“See ya,” I say.
Nate gives me the evil eye from the length of the hallway. Obviously, he’s already spoken to Eli. I don’t blame Nate for hating me. These days I hate myself, too.
Eli
“You’re better off, man.”
I ignore Nate’s comment, wondering why I bothered to tell him everything that went down with Hailey in the first place. He can’t seem to let it go. Truth be told, I can’t either. Lately, Hailey has dominated my thoughts. There were fireworks between us. I know it. There’s no way I made it all up in my mind. If I did, my heart wouldn’t ache right now.
“Hailey’s a bitch,” Nate goes on. “She’s no different than Madeline. Why do you keep picking girls who are all wrong for you, man?”
“She’s not a bitch,” I say blankly. “And she’s nothing like Madeline.” Nothing.
“Stop getting all bleeding-heart with me, Eli. Both of them treated you like shit. You let girls dump all over you, and then you pine away for them like they’re some kind of goddess on a pedestal. Your female worship is sickening. Truly. Do you see me getting sick right now? Because I am.”
“Enough, all right? I already feel depressed as it is.”
“You know the she-devil is coming to our gig on Friday?” He raises his eyebrows, and I deflate. “Yeah,” he nods. “Stella told me. The nerve, right? What a bitch-kitty.”
“Do you carry a pocket thesaurus around with you or something? God!”
“I’m just saying,” Nate says.
“So, she’s coming. It’s a free country.” Though I wish he hadn’t told me. A ball of anxiety forms in the pit of my stomach.
“Gotta blaze,” Nate says. “I already have ten tardies in See’s class.” He bolts.
I scramble to eighth period, making it to the locker room just before the bell rings. As I shove crap into my locker, I yank off street clothes and pull on the requisite PE shorts and t-shirt. I’m sleepwalking through it all; my mind is totally elsewhere and I suddenly fill with utter dread when I remember how I promised Sharon I would work the after-school program at the library today. I wish I hadn’t now. I desperately hope Hailey isn’t working today. Just the thought of seeing her again makes my gut wrench. Even though Madeline and I dated for nearly a year, and despite the fact that we have an intimate, albeit jaded, history together, I feel more crushed by Hailey’s rejection than I ever felt about Madeline. I don’t get the ways of the heart. I truly don’t.
“Move it, guys,” the coach pops into the locker room and yells.
I rush out with the other stragglers and hope a game of volleyball will take my mind off everything that’s happened today. At the very least, I have a way to take out my anger and frustration, which doesn’t involve breaking windows and shouting obscenities like last time. I so don’t want to be that person anymore. But a small part of me wants to drop the f-bomb.
Hailey
“Will you help Eli set up, Hailey?” Sharon speaks into the book catalogue over the top of her glasses.
I stare at her like she uttered a foreign language. I’m midway into my short, three-hour shift. I just need to get through it and get out.
“Can’t Penny do it?”
Penny’s down one of the aisles, straightening books.
Sharon finally glances up. “She’s busy.” Then she looks toward where Penny is. “Besides,” she turns back to me, “I don’t want to subject poor Eli to all of that.”
I nod. Considering what I put Eli through, Penny’s a breeze. But I don’t say that to Sharon. She seems too fond of Eli.
“Please, Hailey.” Sharon peeks at the clock. “Kids’ music hour starts in twenty minutes.”
“No problem,” I mutter. I plan to set up the conference room quickly so I don’t run into him.
I rush to the meeting room and shuffle chairs around, stack pillows on the floor. There will be no microphone testing this time. I don’t care if the kids can hear his voice or not. I just want to get out of here before…I freeze because he stands right there—in the doorway. The static look on his face tells me he’s no happier to be here than I am.
“I’ll be out of here in a second,” I say.
“Sure. Thanks for setting up.”
He places his guitar on a far chair against the back wall and unzips the case without saying a word. I hear the rustle of sheet music and the heating system kick on, but those are the only noises that stand out in the room. I take one final look around to make certain everything’s in order, then steal a glance at Eli who pays absolutely no attention to me at all. The old Hailey—the one from my previous life—would gush with apology for the way she acted the other night. Of course, she never would have behaved so rudely and selfishly to begin with. But if she had, she’d make sure to correct her transgressions and do just about anything to make it right again. But that was then. This is now. The new Hailey cannot care about manners and apologies and hurt feelings. She can’t worry about the possibility of breaking someone’s heart when hers has been broken beyond belief.
With that in mind, I slip out into the library foyer without saying a word.
Hailey
“You’re super perky tonight,” Stella says when we climb into her car to head to the club.
She’s dressed in head-to-toe black: a sequined tank, skinny jeans, dangly earrings, and her bangle bracelets. Her makeup is thick yet flawless. The whole ensemble is offset with a Leprechaun-green clutch.
Earlier, I had dug out a tight v-neck sweater and wool mini-skirt and rummaged through my jewelry box for some flashy, drop earrings. After taking a few swigs from my parents’ liquor stash, I’m now feeling in the party mood. My depressing long-sleeved and dank attire are stowed away in the back of my closet in favor of a lighter and brighter Hailey. It’s the new me who needs to let loose and drown her sorrows in a glass of Jack. Or something to deaden the pain.
“Well, yeah. You know. Life is short. No one knows that better than me,” I say.
Stella pays me a cautious look, but I pretend not to notice. “Sure.” Her tone is hesitant, as though she picked up a complete stranger to hang out with for the night.
As Stella drives, I take the liberty to open her glove compartment. I notice her capturing my movements out of her peripheral vision. “Looking for something in particular?”
“You got any cigarettes in here?” I burp. “Oh God!” I cover my mouth. “Excuse me.”
“Are you drunk?” Her eyes are full on me now.
“No. Absolutely not,” I say. “Just a little buzzed.”
Stella divides her attention between the road and me. “I’ve never see
n you like this. It’s a completely different and carefree side. I like it.” She smiles.
We pull into the lot of Confetti’s, an of-age club.
“You have an ID, right?” Stella asks.
“Don’t need one,” I say, closing the lid on my lipstick.
Sashaying out of the car, I pull my v-neck down a little more and jack my mini-skirt a bit higher.
“All righty then,” Stella responds, giving me wide eyes.
We head toward the club. The muted music intensifies when the club doors open. Stella flashes her fake ID to the bouncer—probably unnecessarily. I paint on a brilliant smile, give my hair a flick, and let my dancer’s body do all the talking.
The statuesque bouncer gestures with his thick neck toward the entrance, and I’m in without so much as a blink.
“Oh…my…God,” Stella says. “I need to take you out more often.
“There’ll be no virgin Bellinis tonight,” I say, making a beeline for the bar.
Stella’s on my heels. “From the looks of things, there’ll be no virgin anything tonight.”
I sidle up to the bar and bat my eyelashes, show a little cleavage. “Two Bellinis. Please,” I emphasize.
The bartender smiles with a hint of mischief. “Sure. No problem.” His eyes comb the length of my body. I watch him back, not out of any remote type of interest, but only because he can keep the drinks flowing all night.
“On the house,” the bartender says as he slides the drink my way.
I pull a five from my sweater and set it on the bar with a smile. He doesn’t need to know the bill is the only thing inside my bra he’ll get his hands on.
Once we have the Bellinis, I hand one to Stella and suck down most of my own. A cute guy at the end of the bar watches me. I play coy. Then I see Nate saunter over, and I can’t help but roll my eyes.
“Hey babe,” Nate says, finding his way to Stella’s side as she sips her drink. He hands me a cold stare, then drapes his arm around her shoulders. “Whatcha got there?” he asks, grabbing hold of Stella’s glass without asking, then taking a nip of it.
