Solving for Ex

by LeighAnn Kopans

  Seconds dragged by. I was so afraid of Brendan’s response to what I was about to say that I almost didn’t want to say it. But I knew I had to. “You’re still with Sofia.”

  “No, let me—”

  “Brendan,” I said, an edge of warning to my voice. He would know, he had to know, that now was not the time to play games. “She was making out with you—at our café—like a week ago. Don’t give me that shit.”

  “It’s complicated, Ash.”

  “What, and I’m too stupid to understand?”

  “We were never really together. I told you that.”

  “Well, you’re not exactly just friends either, are you?”

  “Okay, yeah. We made out. So?”

  “So, if you’re going to grab me and kiss me, you owe me an explanation.”

  His face turned red, and his expression twisted. He looked like he was in pain. “You wanna talk about Sofia? Then I guess we can talk about Vincent, too. What do you see in him, anyway?”

  Brendan didn’t know that I’d told Vincent no. My stomach twisted, but I steeled myself. I didn’t really want to talk about that debacle, but there were things I liked about Vincent. And since Brendan was so damn clueless…“I don’t know,” I said, exhaling heavily. “He pays attention to me. He wants to take me out. He was excited about Sadie. We do things. He takes me places. He…he got a camera.” Now that I said these things, they sounded lame. The reasons I always loved Brendan had nothing to do with any of that, but at least they were real. Tangible things I could touch.

  “You never used to care about any of that stuff,” Brendan said.

  “Well, now maybe I do.”

  Brendan’s unbreaking gaze made me feel jumpy. I couldn’t let the silence continue, and the fact that Brendan was even allowing the silence made it that much more infuriating.

  “Besides, he drove to Williamson to see me, which is more than you did. You didn’t even call. I mean, God, Brendan. I know you have Sofia, but we’re best friends. We were.”

  “I have…” He stared off into the distance, clenching and unclenching his jaw.

  “I know I told you that I thought you should go out with Vincent,” he said, his voice suddenly louder. Assertive. “But now...”

  I glared at him. If my eyes were daggers he would have been dead five times by now.

  “Now, what?

  “Now, I don’t know.”

  I continued glaring at him while my brain tried to work out what the hell was going on. Why he suddenly cared what I did with my love life after too many months of not realizing that I even wanted one with him.

  “Listen, Brendan. You...” I swallowed hard while I tried for a split second to figure out if I actually had the guts to say what I was about to say. You missed your chance. Instead, I choked out, “You never cared if I was going out with someone before.”

  “It’s not that I care if you’re going out with someone, Ash.”

  A lump formed in my throat that kept my words from coming out louder than a whisper. “Well then, what is it?”

  “It’s…I have a weird feeling about him.”

  “Does the weird feeling have anything to do with the hood of his car and Mount Washington?” Tears burned at my eyes, and I had no idea which of the twenty emotions running through me right now was responsible for them.

  “Jesus fucking Christ, Ashley. I’m trying to—I know something about him, and I think you should know.”

  I stared at him, waiting.

  “I had dinner with my mom and dad last night. Dad told me why he and Sofia are really here, at Mansfield Prep.”

  “Yeah, I know. His dad’s looking to open a new office, Mansfield’s a snobby college prep school…”

  Brendan rolled his eyes. “No, more than that. He was in some trouble at his old school. Cheating, big time. Hacked the AP testing system, sold answers to about twenty kids. They all got expelled, lost their scores.”

  My chest constricted with a strange mix of horror and relief. Vincent was more than just pissed off that I didn’t want to make out with him anymore. He was exactly the kind of person responsible for the worst misery of my life. And I’d known well enough, somehow, to get away from him. “Holy hell.”

  His foot scraped back and forth against the chipping paint on the bottom stair. “Yeah, and I don’t think it’s good if you’re mixed up in that. I’m just looking out for you, you know.”

  “Oh my God. You can quit, Brendan, okay? I don’t know what your freaking problem is, but we broke up.”

  “Looks like he hurt a lot of people. Including you.” Brendan’s eyes studied my face.

  “No, I’m okay.” I shook my head and looked right back at him, wanting him to hear the depth of what I said. “I mean, we only went out a couple times.”

  “Still. Considering everything…”

  What did Brendan think we’d done? Oh, hell. I had to clear this up. “We didn’t…do that. No. Just…no. I wouldn’t have…God, Brendan!” I cried out and hoisted myself up. Why did saying things like this to him have to be so damn difficult?

  His eyes flared wide, but he stood still as stone. “You guys didn’t…?”

  “No! We drank hot chocolate, we kissed, I dumped him the next morning at breakfast. Because there were no banana pancakes. If we’re gonna pretend that you give a shit at all. Because for some reason, the only person I want to eat banana pancakes with is you.”

  I wanted to tell him everything. Wanted to blurt out that I’d loved him since the day I’d met him, that him kissing me in his bedroom and pulling my body to his and digging his fingers into my skin was everything I’d dreamed of since then. Wanted to throw myself at him and grab his shirt and slam a kiss on his mouth and never break away from him ever again. But I couldn’t do that until all this Sofia shit got straightened out. Of course I wanted Brendan—hadn’t ever stopped wanting him, I admitted to myself—but no guy was worth being a girl guys cheated with.

  I stood up straight, looked him in the eye, and said, “I don’t know how you feel about her. And I don’t know how you feel about me.”

  Brendan opened his mouth and stuttered out a few syllables, but I cut him off. “I don’t want to know. Not now. Get your shit together, and when you do, we can talk.”

  Suddenly, I couldn’t get out of there fast enough. Before I even thought about doing it, I’d shoved my stupid neon striped socks into my gross slippers—seriously, how could I have worn these things over here?—run down the stairs and threw the front door open. The wind gusted in, chilling me to the bone.

  “Ashley, wait!” Brendan stood at the top of the stairs, his face twisted in an expression I didn’t recognize.

  I stopped at the door. “Yes, Brendan. I’ll still be at the competition. But only because I’m gonna be the captain next year, and we both know it. So I kind of have to see it anyway.”

  “That’s not what I wanted to say.” He ran his hand back through his hair, and for a moment, I was seriously lost. What had I been doing, trying to convince myself I wasn’t still in love with him? “I…uh…You gonna be okay out there?”

  I dropped my gaze. A short laugh barked out of my throat, and I swore that was the only thing keeping my heart inside my body. “It’s just next door, Brendan.” My voice sounded poisonous. I didn’t mean for it to. Tears pricked at my eyes, burning now.

  My feet had crunched through the frosty grass once, twice, three times, before Brendan called, “I’m sorry, Ash.”

  I didn’t turn back. Couldn’t look at him, even from across the lawn and in the dark.

  I got home, fell into bed, and let the floodgates open. Anger and hatred for myself, for what I couldn’t say, sent the tears tumbling out of my eyes, dripping off my cheeks and onto my comforter. Sobs wracked my body, and got even worse when I realized that, just two minutes ago, gasping for breath had felt like a really, really good thing.

  I stared out my bedroom window up at his. I watched as his light went off, then held my breath, only exhaling
when he turned it back on. He did it again—off and on. My signal to do the same. But all I could do was raise my hand, trembling, to my lamp, turn the light out, roll over, and squeeze my eyes shut.

  varnish and gilding hide many stains

  The Mathletes State competition was completely packed, with twice as many adults as high school students present. The crush of bodies into classrooms designated for teams, crowded hallways where vendors set up sales counters for everything from cheesy T-shirts to DVDs of their kids doing the board problems, and the actual auditorium, where parents spread jackets and handbags across seats to save them for later. I couldn’t even retreat to the classroom assigned to our team, since I’d walked in on Vincent and Britt making out in one of the desk chairs, her perched on his lap and him sticking his tongue down her throat and his hands up her shirt. Whatever was sexy about two handfuls of boob in a public-school classroom, I couldn’t begin to understand.

  Why had I agreed to come to this hellhole where three out of six people traveling with me were the guy I loved, his girlfriend, and my ex?

  Oh, right. Brendan. Even though being around him almost hurt, he and his whole stupid Mathletes team needed me around. At least Brendan had told me that I could put “Mathletes official coach” or some other nonsense on my college scholarship applications, and get his full backing.

  We hunkered down in our classroom, and got to work running paper drills. As much as he loved the Mathletes, I thought Brendan hadn’t been quite tough enough on these kids.

  After a stretch, a walk for some fresh air, and lunch, we were ready for the writtens.

  Part of me was dying inside. Even though on the practice tests in that classroom, Sofia had totally dominated, it was seriously freaky how little work she actually had to write down. Less than I did, even.

  But the writtens went perfectly. Our team was so fast, with Sofia and Mohinder setting pencils down minutes before time was up. I finally took a deep breath. Brendan sat there too, holding his pencil till the very end, though I knew that it was only because he was double and triple checking his work right until the buzzer sounded.

  Everyone gathered out in the hall, waiting for scores to be posted. Only the top ten teams from all of us in the state would go on to the boards round. Brendan pushed his way through the crush of the crowd gathered around the corkboard where they were posting the sheets with scores. A few tense moments passed while we waited for him to catch a glimpse of the results, and then I saw him. Brendan, striding toward us, with fists raised in the air in victory. When he reached the team, he threw his arms around all of us, even me. Even though when his hand squeezed my shoulder, I stiffened and drew back, I still celebrated with the rest of the team.

  We were so close to winning State I could taste it.

  Ω

  The whole team waited outside the auditorium. Even though they weren’t the best at boards, they were decent, and, I was willing to bet, better under pressure than most. Brendan had wanted to practice, convinced that that was what had won us after the paper round, but I saw the stress and exhaustion in the rest of the team’s eyes. Even Sofia looked a little droopy. I advocated a nap and some relaxation before boards, which would take place in front of an entire audience after dinner. It would even be live broadcast on one of those local programs. This was a big deal.

  Half an hour before the boards were to start, the final ten teams assembled in the auditorium. We were only going to hear which team we were up against in the first bracket of boards ten minutes before they started.

  These parents were seriously buzzing with energy. It was palpable. They were completely obsessed with math. I knew that even though Brendan was too, it was something his parents didn’t understand. They weren’t even here, as far as I could tell, even though they said they’d try to make it.

  The emcee strolled across the stage with one of those big clear balls they used for lottery tickets. Pretty silly, since there were only ten teams. But the parents seemed to really like this show.

  “For the first round,” he boomed, “Mansfield Prep versus Central!”

  The crowd cheered. Brendan looked half tortured, half relieved. And Sofia quietly slipped out of the auditorium.

  With ten minutes till board time. And in the commotion, no one seemed to have noticed.

  And if they hadn’t noticed her, I knew for sure that no one would notice me slipping out after her.

  I followed the click of her prissy high heels all the way through the now-empty hallways back to our classroom. She must have forgotten something. I walked past the door as she was crouched over her backpack, rummaging through. It was only when I saw her pressing on the inside of her ear with her pointer finger that I paused.

  Then she started talking to no one.

  cold-hearted ambition

  “No, idiot, we’re up first. Yes, the first session. Well, is it my fault you didn’t pay any attention in math class? No, I don’t—well, look up the symbols dictionary again. Well maybe if you had spent more time studying with idiot Ashley instead of flirting with her, you would—oh shut up!”

  Then, when she finally shut up herself, I heard a voice, impossibly, coming out of the space she’d pressed inside her ear. Even through the speaker, I recognized the smooth tenor I hadn’t heard, had avoided hearing on my own phone, ever since I arrived back from Thanksgiving.

  “No, it’s broadcasting live. You just have to match the problem to what you see in the system screen and read the solution back to me. Yes, including work. Well then learn the goddamn symbols Vincent, I don’t care how, just do it in the next ten minutes! If you want my allowance from the last month, do it and do it right.”

  Shit. Oh, shit.

  This was how she’d done it all—going so quickly through the problems, without showing her work.

  She and Vincent got the answers ahead of time, and he read them to her in her earpiece. And she was perfectly right every single time.

  Half of me wanted to duck out of the classroom, go back to the group, and pretend this never happened. The other half of me wanted a confrontation.

  The other half of me, somehow, amazingly, won. I stood up tall and stepped into the classroom.

  “Hey, Sofia. Sounds like you’re doing some last-minute studying.”

  “Oh, I was just…”

  “Listen, save your breath. I heard everything, okay? Including Vincent, your little answer monkey via wireless speaker and freaking local broadcast channel.”

  “Oh, please. There’s nothing you can prove.”

  “No, but I’ve been watching you. At the very least, I can provide some damn compelling evidence.”

  “Listen, you little bitch,” Sofia said, approaching me with one perfectly manicured finger outstretched. “Don’t you say a word of this to Brendan. Or anyone. Do you hear me? I’m going to the college I want to go to, and I’m going to be Brendan’s girlfriend, and if Mathletes is the way do both those things, then yes, I’ll steal answers and cheat at anything I want.”

  “And if I do say something?”

  “I will personally make your life a living hell. So help me, you will regret the day you were born. Thanks to Vincent, I’ve got half a dozen rumors about you in my back pocket, ready to be fired.” Then she leaned in and whispered, “You know, this is all your fault. If you hadn’t turned Vincent down, there’s no way he’d be helping me do this. So don’t blame me, Ashley. Blame yourself. And learn your fucking place.”

  Finally, she backed up, hoisted her bag over her shoulder, and pushed past me out of the room, and back to the auditorium.

  I stood there, frozen for half a second. Then, right as she crossed the threshold to the classroom door, a smile swept across my face.

  Someone had made my life a living hell before. And that wasn’t even for anything important—just a stupid guy wanting to look good. I couldn’t stand up for myself back then, but I sure as hell could now.

  Ω

  I was really only about twenty steps behind Sofi
a. Just far enough to make her think she’d won her little threat-fest, but close enough for me to still catch her and the team before they went on to do boards.

  The team was already gathered at the wings of the stage. I was just grateful they hadn’t gone on yet.

  They were all huddled, Brendan giving them a last-minute pep talk. Even Sofia was there, not even out of breath. She must have taken gym courses in running in heels to have gotten all the way here in those shoes without breaking a sweat.

  I, on the other hand, was so worked up my hair probably looked like Medusa’s, and I’m sure I spit when I talked.

  “Wait, you guys! Hold it. We can’t do this.” I knew my voice sounded crazy, uncontrolled. I didn’t care. I’d made my decision, and I’d be damned if I didn’t go all the way with this.

  The whole team stood in the worst possible spot for me to be yelling just this thing—right outside to the door to the stage.

  I knew Sofia hadn’t practiced. Of course she hadn’t. She’d never practiced a damn math problem her whole life. This was only to go on her college applications, so that she could be fake with her fake application and fake a perfectly good college into taking her over some hardworking student. Like me.

  Worse, if I let her go onstage and she managed to win, and she was uncovered later, things would be very, very bad for the captain of our team. Brendan.

  “Ashley. What’s going on? I don’t want the judges to hear you, okay? It would be embarrassing.”

  I snorted. “You know what’ll be embarrassing, Brendan? If they find out what’s been going on here.”

  He stared at me blankly, his eyebrows drawing in. Oh, my God. He actually had no clue what I was talking about.

  “Are you seriously freaking telling me you have no idea how we got here?”

  Sofia gave me the sort of look that made me surprised she hadn’t started sprouting snakes for hair. I actually almost expected to drop dead.

  I didn’t want to embarrass Brendan. I really, really didn’t. But my God, the way Sofia stood there staring at me like she owned the whole freaking state competition when I knew damn well how she’d gotten there made my blood boil.