hard and her shoulders slump. “Is your arm bothering you?” Iasked her.“Who cares about my stupid arm?” she muttered. Disgusted atthe situation, I suppose. Or disgusted at my strange behavior. Ihated to have to do this. I hated to make her feel this way. I wish Icould comfort her, but I couldn’t. So I said nothing and she puther head down on the table. I just sat there and looked at her.Looked at how her brown hair flowed down her back. How her hairset off the color of her skin. Then I caught a glimpse of herbandaged arm under her hair and regained my concentration. Ihave a role to play. So I just stared at nothing for the rest of thelunch hour. The rest of the day carried on like the morning. Silent. When wegot to her truck she was the first to break the silence. I guessfinally realizing that I was not going to be the one.“You’ll come over later tonight?” she asked even though I alwayscame over. Did she not want me over now?“Later?”, I asked, surprised that she even asked me that question.I always came over after school.“I have to work. I had to trade with Mrs. Newton to get yesterdayoff.”“Oh”“So you’ll come over when I’m done, though, right? She pressed.“If you want me to.” I said.“I always want you,” she said. Very intensely, like she was tryingto convey some message.
I’ll always want you too
, I wanted tosay. But I thought better of it.“All right, then,” I said simply, with no emotion. I kissed herforehead, not her lips again, and shut the door on her. I turnedand went to my car. This was harder than I imagined it would be.It was a relief to get into my car and wipe this look off of my face. The look underneath it was no better. It was pained. It was sad. Itwas heartbroken, even though my heart was out of commission.