As she looks at me, I watch her gaze visibly cool. “No, that’s not it. I know who you are. My son has mentioned you. So have a lot of other people, actually.”
That doesn’t appear to be a good thing, but I try not to jump to unpleasant conclusions. “Oh… really?”
Her cool eyes turn even frostier as she gives me the fakest, most unkind smile I’ve ever seen. “Yes. If I recall correctly, weren’t you responsible for breaking up the marriage of your history teacher last year?”
My heart slides into my stomach.
Last year, one of my favorite teachers got caught in a compromising position by a student—he was hooking up with someone who was not his wife during his lunch break, and someone snapped a picture of them kissing in his car.
The picture was terrible, you couldn’t remotely see who the girl was, all you could tell for certain was that she was a brunette. The problem is, the coat she was wearing looked a lot like mine.
As soon as Valerie Johnson realized she could link me to it in even the flimsiest way possible, she started spreading the rumor that I was the one hooking up with Mr. Fitzpatrick.
That one was a lot worse than the stories I heard of all my secret hook-ups with the guys in our grade. That rumor took on a life of its own. I started hearing tawdry stories about myself—I especially liked the one where I was hooking up with Mr. Fitzpatrick at his house when his wife came home, and he made me sneak out the bedroom window without even having time to put my shirt back on. Zachary Long who lives near Mr. Fitzpatrick confirmed it, telling everyone he saw me and he couldn’t believe I had such nice tits.
“No,” I murmur flatly, my face heating with shame I did nothing to earn. “That wasn’t me.”
“Mm-hmm,” she murmurs, no longer looking at the application as she lets her arm fall to her side. “Well, we’re not really looking for anyone with your… qualifications right now, but I’ll keep your application on file in case something opens up.”
No, she won’t. I attempt a polite smile, but I’m too disappointed.
I murmur a pointless thank you, anyway, and turn around.
Anderson follows, no longer worried about getting a doughnut.
The bell chimes and I step out onto the sidewalk.
“What was she talking about?”
I look over at Anderson stopped on the sidewalk beside me. “Some dumb rumor that was going around last year,” I say glumly.
“You and a teacher?” he asks skeptically.
His tone makes me frown. It almost sounds like he thinks it’s factual. “Rumor, Anderson. It wasn’t true.”
He frowns. “Why would anyone even think that, though? That’s a crazy thing to make up.”
“Yeah, well, Valerie Johnson is crazy,” I mutter, starting to walk away from the stupid doughnut shop. I can just imagine Mona the doughnut lady watching out the window, gossiping about me with her employee who couldn’t care less.
“What does she have to do with it?” he asks, following behind me.
“She’s the one who started the rumor. One of her friends caught him making out with some girl in his car, and she told everyone it was me.”
“Why would she do that?”
I look over at him, noting his doubtful frown. “I’m not really in the mood to explain mean girls, Anderson. Can we just drop this?”
“I mean… no,” he says reluctantly, casting me an almost apologetic look. “You not wanting to talk about it just makes me wonder about it even more.”
“I don’t want to talk about it because it’s not a nice memory. People were really mean to me—not just kids at school, either. Adult women. My mom had to go to a PTO meeting and rip into them to get it to stop, and it only really stopped because summer finally came and people had a few months away from school to focus on other things.”
“Is that what you were talking about before? You said someone told a lie about you and everyone believed it.”
I sigh, already tired of this conversation. Even more tired of it because I know my answer won’t be reassuring. “No. That was a different lie told by a different person.”
“Is this something that happens to you a lot?” he asks skeptically. “People making up lies about you?”
I stop walking and turn to look at him as he slows to a stop beside me. I could just point out that they’re related—the initial lie facilitated the later lies about me and made them seem believable. But, frankly, I don’t appreciate having to explain myself. I don’t appreciate the subtle implication that it must be my fault people would say bad things about me. That I must have done something to deserve it.
Folding my arms across my chest defensively, I say, “You know what, I think I’m gonna go home.”
His eyebrows rise in wounded surprise. “What? But we were supposed to have dinner together.”
We were, and I am hungry, but my desire to have dinner with him has swiftly evaporated.
It’s a shame, too. I was looking forward to this date when the day began. I thought it was exactly what we needed. These first few days of school have been a trial. I thought today would give us a chance to get away from all the things that have created distance between us this week.
I also really wanted a sandwich.
The local butcher shop makes these specialty sandwiches—a new kind every day, and they serve them until they’re sold out. They sell out nearly every day because they’re so delicious. Last time I checked their Instagram account, they hadn’t sold out yet today. They don’t have seating at the shop, but the plan was we would sit on the benches outside and eat our sandwiches before heading over to the bookstore. Anderson isn’t much of a reader, but he does like Stephen King, so he didn’t completely hate my date idea.
Now I do, though. Not because of the activities, but because I’m rapidly losing interest in my companion.
“Come on, I know you’re hungry. Let’s just drop this for now and go get some food.”
I don’t feel like budging, but I don’t feel like arguing, either.
My tummy rumbles as if to cast its own vote, so even though I’m no longer excited about it, I uncross my arms and start walking with him toward the butcher shop.
We don’t speak, though. We walk in silence.
This isn’t anything like the date I’d been hoping for. I know it’s not for him, either, but considering his reaction to that stupid rumor Valerie and her posse spread about me, I can’t muster much sympathy.
I can’t muster much optimism about this relationship, either. I liked Anderson over the summer so I don’t know how we’re sliding downhill so fast, but we’ve been back to school for less than a week, and I’ve already thought about breaking up with him more than once.
I grab the door and we head inside.
There’s one person ahead of us, but the shop is otherwise empty. I’m not paying much attention at first, but then I take a closer look.
The back of that head looks awfully familiar. My gaze drifts to his heavily inked arms, which I also recognize.
“Ray?”
He turns around, his stoic expression easing into a more pleasant one at the sound of my voice. He flicks a glance at Anderson before his gaze lands back on me. “Hey, Riley.”