Grady’s friends won’t look me in the eye and don’t seem to know what to say to me. Probably because they feel partially responsible. I mean, face it, they (unwittingly) helped lead him away from me … and into the clutches of a scheming rival.
… or, okay, they just feel bad for me and simply don’t know what to say.
Whatever.
I force a (fake) smile on my face whenever I see them. But the pity in their eyes whenever they peek at me makes my lip quiver.
So … you know, my smile fools no one. Just makes everyone uncomfortable. Yet I plaster it on my face and chirp out “Hi!” to everyone. Do my best to be Wonder Woman.
Too bad the only person I want to be my Superman is now dating Super Skank.
CHAPTER 22
Friday morning, I roll over in bed. I squeeze my eyes shut, so not wanting to get up. See, Friday mornings used to be kind of special for me and Grady. I mean, well, we had this thing we did every Friday—our thing. A ritual. Before school we’d stop at the corner gas station, and then while Grady’s car was filling, we’d buy a scratch ticket. Every single Friday. And then we’d dream about our big winnings, though the most we had ever won was two dollars, yet we were psyched on the rare occasion when we’d win a candy bar.
Okay, okay I know it’s silly to get all longing and misty over a silly ritual. But it had been fun—playfully dreaming of getting rich, and then acting like we hit the big jackpot whenever we won a measly candy bar. It had been special. Our thing. But now Grady would do it with Becca. It would be their thing. It’s depressing knowing I’ll be all sad, longing for it, yet he’ll go on doing it, having our thing with another girl.
The realization makes me incredibly lonely and sad.
CHAPTER 23
On the way to school, I’m in a way better mood than when I first woke this morning. Hearing Nicole and Sara’s chatter always makes me feel better. So, I’m able to actually open my mouth and grumble, which I usually can’t do these days, because talking about Grady just makes me want to cry, and face it, ain’t nobody want to be part of that—especially me.
But now I find myself actually grumbling, telling them about mine and Grady’s ritual.
Immediately, Sara turns her car around. It’s rather startling.
She announces, “We’ll get you a new Friday morning ritual.”
She pulls into the nearest donut shop and we pig out on donuts and hot chocolate.
“Isn’t this a nice ritual?” Sara says with a smile.
***
I have to admit, it had been fantastic.
It’s nice to have friends. (Especially when your car only works on rare occasions.)
Feeling like I might, perhaps actually survive the break-up after all (maybe), I open my locker, but then—whoa! All the air whooshes out of me, and these prickly sparks flash through my body, and all the hairs on my arms stand on end.
All of that.
Because there is a candy bar sitting in the middle of my locker.
Seeing it, my stomach does a dramatic loop.
I stare at the candy bar a long, long time, my heart pounding so hard and painful against my chest.
What does it mean?—the candy bar.
Does it mean anything?
My hands trembling, I reach for the card, praying it says: “As I was doing our dear special thing without you, I realized I just can’t do it without you. Or live without you. I realized you’re all I want, Mandy. I’m sorry I was being an idiot. Please forgive me and take me back. I cry at night, I bawl. I want us to go back to the way we were so bad—just you and me. You’re the only one for me, Mandy. You’re my special, irreplaceable girl—I realize that now. I need you to take me back, please.”
All week I’ve been fantasizing he would say those things to me.
Holding my breath, I read his card, then I thump my head against my locker.
All it says is: “Won this with today’s scratch ticket.”
Nothing else. Not another word.
Screw him and his candy bar.
(I’m trying to be rebellious, obviously.)
(Keyword: trying.)
But it’s my favorite candy bar. And he knows it. And when you win, you get to choose any kind you want. He chose mine.
I look around to make sure he’s not watching, then I carefully place the candy bar back in my locker. I can’t eat it, no way. My stomach feels like it’s full of rocks. But … I can’t throw it away either. I mean, I know I should. (He jilted me!!) Dramatically jilting the candy bar into the trash had been my plan when I bitterly came up with the rebellious thought: Screw him and his candy bar.
… but it’s my favorite kind … and Grady knew it.
So, I reluctantly shove it back into my locker, not quite sure what I’ll do with it. I know I should throw it away. But who knows, maybe someday I’ll be able to eat it and not need to puke. I mean, that would show progress … right? If there ever comes a time I can eat the candy bar he gave me (my favorite kind!) and simply eat it, and not need to cry or choke from sadness and longing—but just enjoy the candy bar for it’s delicious yumminess. Nothing more. No tears. No bittersweet longings.
I can’t really see that day ever happening—when I’m so over him that I can actually eat/enjoy the candy bar. But … well I can hope.
CHAPTER 24
I used to hang out in the art room during lunch. Well, Grady and I would hang out there together. I’m itching to go back there now with my lunch, but I’m terrified Grady will be there. Even worse, that Becca will be with him. The sight would definitely kill my appetite and kill my day, and basically kill me, so I, of course, don’t go there. Though I wanna. Really, really bad. It would be nice to work out my pain and aggression in a frantic paint fest.
Instead, I go to the band room and take my aggression out on the drums.
Smith is in the room. When he hears me going crazy, he looks up, then gazes at me a moment with a small smile.
He doesn’t know it, but he’s the reason I started playing the drums in the first place. I used to hear him play the few times I went over to his house instead of him coming over to mine. You know, when we were kids (before his discovery that I had a fanatical, mad, all consuming crush on him). Watching him play, I would get mesmerized. He was so cool, and then add his mad drum skills—it was too much for my ten year-old heart. I was a goner.
I begged my mom to get me drums for Christmas—I wanted to be as cool as Smith, do everything he did. But my mom didn’t get me the drums, not back then. She thought it was a passing interest. But she was wrong.
As I play, I keep noticing Smith taking little peeks at me. But Chloe seems to notice too. She huffs and shoots me daggers with her eyes, like she thinks I’m doing this—jamming on the drums—to get Smith’s attention. But I’m not. Of course. At all. It just turns out to be an interesting side effect.
Very interesting.
Finally, Chloe leads Smith out of the room.
Bummer.
Ever since he protectively saved me from having to face Grady after my embarrassing pee/faint combo, I’ve felt my crush feelings for him gurgling back up to the surface again. Don’t get me wrong, I know it’s hopeless. And I’m not looking to snatch the guy. Of course. But now I’m free to fantasize about him without feeling guilty. So I do. Sometimes. Just a little.
Once Smith and Chloe leave, this guy from my work, Todd, wanders over to me. Oh no!
Todd kind of lets me know how my unrequited crush on Smith must have used to make Smith feel—squirmy and uncomfortable. I mean, it’s unnerving to have a guy stare at you with actual hearts in his eyes. (Okay, not exactly ‘actual’ but you can sort of see his longing heart in his eyes when he looks at me lately.) It’s … disturbing.
“Nice playing,” Todd tells me when I finally stop playing.
I’d planned to quit a while ago, but had kept going in hopes Todd would get tired of watching me and go away. But no. He seemed to have no intention of going away, ever, so it
became apparent my lame avoidance tactic was pointless. I was trapped—going to have to talk to him. Not that I don’t like him. I do. He’s a nice guy. But now that I’m ‘single’ (sob!) I can see that he wants to ‘make a move.’
Awkward!!!
I’m not ready to date yet. Not at all. Not anyone. I mean, it’s barely been a week since I got knocked in the stomach discovering my ‘boyfriend’ was quite ensnared and enraptured with another girl, totally ready to terminate our relationship to run off with a giggling ski bunny.
So, you know—ouch.
It’s going to take a long time before I can get over that. I just want to lick my wounds and wallow, though my friends keep telling me that’s the wrong attitude.
“Get out there and mingle,” Sara keeps advising me. “Show stupid Grady what he’s missing.”
“Yeah, let him see you with another guy,” Nicole agreed. “The sight will destroy him and he’ll come crawling back to you in a heartbeat.”
It all sounded nice … except the ‘mingling’ part. I didn’t feel like ‘mingling’ since what they meant was ‘dating’ … even if it was just to show Grady that I could get another guy.
‘Cause the sad thing was—I didn’t want another guy. I just wanted Grady. I’d feel hallow and empty and even more sad faking a new relationship while he was actually having one. It would make me feel even lonelier than I do now.
So when Todd says the dreaded words, “I hear you and Grady broke up” I have this frantic, desperate urge to yelp and run away.
But that would be impolite. And mean.
… and I don’t want to be mean to Todd.
I just want him to go away.
“Yeah. We broke up,” I admit softly, my voice trembling despite my determination not to be pathetic. I quickly add, trying to get a grip, “But it’s for the best. I think I should be alone for a while. I mean, we were together for two years. That’s a long time to be with someone. I should—you know, be alone for a while.”
“Yeah,” he agrees, sounding more chipper than I expected. But then I realize why, once he goes on, “—play the field.”
“Oh! No, that’s not what I meant. I meant, be alone, alone.”
He grins sympathetically. “I doubt you really want that. No one wants to be alone while their ex is snuggling up to another person.”
I open my mouth to protest, but then slowly shut it, because, well, he’s right.
“Look, you don’t have to answer now,” Todd says, “But the school dance is next week, and I bet Grady is going to be going with that new girl.”
His words slice through me like a knife. I hadn’t even thought about the dance … or that Grady would now go to them without me.
Todd goes on, “I just want you to know, I’d love to take you to the dance.”
A little warmth flutters into my dead, frozen heart.
“Thank you, Todd,” I tell him sincerely. “I don’t want to go—but it was sweet of you to ask. I appreciate it.”
“No, don’t turn me down yet,” he says. “Just think about it awhile—okay?”
He ducks his head slightly to peer into my eyes. (He has nice eyes—warm and brown.)
Not wanting to just flat-out turn him down, I also don’t want to give him false hope. “Todd, I’ve only been broken-up for a week. I’m not ready to date yet.”
“Well, Grady’s doing it. Maybe if you show him that you are too—maybe he’ll see what he’s lost.”
His words sink in slowly. They’re almost the exact words my friends have been using. I see the logic. I do. Of course. But I also see the flaws. The biggest being someone could get hurt—and I don’t mean Grady, unfortunately.
“You don’t want to date me right now, Todd. Anyone I dated right now—I’d just be using them.”
Todd grins, “Use me, Mandy. I’d love to be used by you.”
The bell rings. Thank goodness. ‘Cause I have no idea what to say.
“Uh … I have to go,” I tell him, hopping up from my seat.
As I dash out the door, he calls after me, “Use me, Mandy!”
CHAPTER 25
Exactly nine days after our break-up I get a text from Grady. “Want to jam?”
My heart gets all excited just from hearing from him. But that’s sad, right? I mean, he’s been excruciatingly couple-y with Becca.
So, after taking a deep breath, I summons detachment, and type dryly: “Won’t your girlfriend mind?”
His response makes a zing of unexpected hope swirl through me.
“I wouldn’t go so far as to call her my girlfriend.”
It’s really pathetic that such a message can actually make me even a minuscule less gloomy. But sadly, it does.
After a moment I type, “Does she know that?”
But then I don’t press send. I can’t. I don’t feel my heart can take discussing them. It’s not a conversation I want to have with him, and I no longer have to have conversations with him that I don’t wish to have. Interestingly, that is now entirely my option—I can avoid any conversation with him that I choose. Innnteresting.
I delete the message. After all, he can say she’s not his girlfriend, but that sure doesn’t make him my boyfriend again. I mean, he had certainly appeared to have a girlfriend this week—and it sure wasn’t me. And okay, I avoided seeing him all week, so I’m not altogether sure what their relationship was—but I knew how ours was: Painful.
I squeeze my eyes shut.
Though it kills me, I type: “Can’t. Too much math homework.”
He types back: “… I could help you with that, you know.”
He says it like that—matter-of-factly—because he used to always help me with my math homework. Every day, in fact.
It’s extremely tempting. Thinking of getting to be near him again. Alone.
But I have to be sensible. I’m just not ready to be around him without being able to touch him, without truly being special to him anymore. It would hurt too much. Just the thought fills me with unbearable despair, being around him again, yet him not truly being my Grady anymore. Maybe someday I’ll be able to deal with that. Maybe. But definitely not yet.
“Nah, I think I’m going to pass. But thanks for the offer.”
“Mandy, come on. We haven’t worked on the game forever. Or done one of our awesome mock-umentaries, or had a drum session. I’m dying for a drum session. Come on, come over. We can do whatever you want.”
I want to kiss you, and have you hold me.
And have you tell me you don’t like Becca.
After a moment, I type: “No thanks.”
“Mandy, I still care about you. I miss you. I want us to still be friends.”
Well, you can’t always get what you want, bucko.
My life is testament to that.
“Too soon, Grady,” I tell him.
Then I turn off my phone.
CHAPTER 26
The day after texting with Grady—and declining his suggestion we get together to be “friends” I get a text from his mom.
Grady and I have been broken up for well over a week now, but apparently he hasn’t informed his mom yet, since she has just asked me for a favor—one involving me entering their unoccupied house.
She wants me to turn off their oven, explaining: “I’d been baking rolls to go with tonight’s dinner, but then Steve whisked me off for a surprise romantic dinner since the kids are busy tonight … but I completely forgot about the rolls in the oven—they’ll burn down the house.”
I only live two houses away, so the request is no big deal … even as an “ex-girlfriend.” But I know she wouldn’t ask me to do the favor … at least not without condolences and an awkward apology first—I mean for her son breaking my heart, which she obviously has no clue he did.
… And has no clue that’s probably what he’s “busy” doing now—breaking my heart being with another girl.
Once I turn off the oven, I can’t resist. I hesitantly, cautiously pad up to Grady’s room.
Just to see it a moment. See if it has changed now that we’re broken up … or stayed the same.
I’m shamefully happy to see it’s exactly the same. The pictures of me and him together are still taped all over his mirror and walls. I stare at them an absurdly long time, a bittersweet pang throbbing in my heart. How can he be with Becca now?
It still doesn’t seem real.
Emotional tears brimming in my eyes, I curl up in his warm Grady-bed. Just to feel close to him. Just for a second. To feel the warmth, and breathe in his soothing Grady-scent that I miss so much.
But it feels so nice, and toasty and comforting, I lose track of time. And consciousness.
… what I mean is, I fall asleep.
Groggily, I wake to hearing Grady on the other side of the door, sounding all jazzed and animated (happy), “Just give me a second, okay? Let me clean up—one second.”
He was murmuring it seductively and coaxingly, as though he was being kissed.
At first I’m too hazy from sleep to quite make out what that means, or what’s happening, until he comes into the room, shutting the door behind him. He quickly starts cleaning, but then he freezes when he sees me—in his bed.
His lips form an ‘o’ and his head tilts, like a question.
“Time’s up!” Becca announces with a giggle from the other side of the door. “Ready or not, I’m coming in!”
“No wait!” Alarmed, he lunges towards me, then brings his fingers to his lips, like to say “shhh” as he quickly shields me with his covers, hiding me, protecting me from the horrible situation I put myself in.
As the door opens, he jumps off the bed, and tries pulling Becca out of his room, murmuring, “Let’s go to my parent’s room. Cleaner.”
“No. I want to kiss you wild here, on your bed.”
Immediately, she’s kissing him like crazy, trying to lead him to his bed, but meanwhile, he’s trying to lead her out of his room. “I stuffed all my stuff under my covers,” he pants to her. “I’m embarrassed. Come on, to my parents room—where it’s clean.”
Want To Hate You ... Too Bad I Love You Page 22
