“Preach!” said Niamh, raising her Diet Coke in a toast.
“I think the dance might have been cursed,” I said. Niamh nodded earnestly.
Lara gave us withering glances. “Um, the opposite, you mean? The dance cleansed us of the toxic baggage we were dragging around with us. Now we’re all available, unattached, and no longer bogged down by immature parasites leeching love from us and not giving back anything more substantial than a lackluster quickie in a storage closet.”
“You and Renee had a quickie in a storage closet?” I asked.
“It’s a figure of speech.”
“I don’t think it is.”
“Well, all the established figures of speech are so overdone.”
“Yeah, that’s what makes them figures of speech. If they’re not overdone, they’re just something someone said one time.”
“Ollie,” Lara said sweetly, “you can be really irritating sometimes. Has anyone ever told you that?”
“Other than myself? Nope.”
The bad news was that the rose-gold dagger necklace I had around my neck wasn’t enough to ward off a Lara attack. The good news was that this was probably the most I’d ever spoken at the lunch table. I felt more comfortable than usual, too.
Maybe the night before hadn’t been a total write-off, then.
Will messaged me to meet him in the parking lot again, but I had no intention of doing that. I made a beeline for my car as soon as I left the building.
Footsteps smacked on the ground behind me as I put my hand on the car door. “Ollie, wait, please.”
He just could not let this go, could he? Honestly, I’d thought I’d get out of here without having to deal with him, given how crowded the parking lot was right now. With students spilling out left, right, and center, I’d have put all sorts of bets down that Will wouldn’t risk chasing me down.
But here he was, chasing me down.
“At least talk to me,” Will said. “Let me explain.”
“You don’t need to,” I said. “Lara told me. The guys found the photo of me on your phone.”
“Right.”
“Right,” I said. “So unless there’s something really, really convincing that I don’t know, there’s nothing else to explain.”
Will looked befuddled. “But then you have to know it wasn’t personal, right? I had to throw them off.”
“You didn’t have to do anything.”
Will looked around to see if anyone was close enough to overhear. “Can we get in the car?” he asked.
I rolled my eyes and jumped into the driver’s seat, slamming the door. Will followed after me on the passenger side, with less slamming. “Ollie, if I didn’t, they would’ve been suspicious about us,” he said once he’d closed his door. “Matt would never let me live it down, he’d be after me every time I ever hung with you, like at lunch, or outside school, or—”
“And so what? Let him think what he wants. It’s not like he has proof.”
“You don’t get it.”
“Oh, don’t I?” I asked. “Do I not have any idea what it’s like to be gay?”
“You,” he said over me, “came out in fucking California. I’m not saying it wasn’t hard for you, but you have no idea what it’s like to grow up here. I knew, like, ten gay jokes before I even knew what being gay was. My friends would never be able to accept it, okay? Do you think Matt will suddenly go out and buy an Ally T-shirt?”
“Just say it’s not like that, then! You don’t need to get with a girl to prove there’s nothing going on with me.”
“They’re always, always digging, Ollie. I told you how they used to joke about you, right? You don’t know the half of it. You aren’t friends with them. You don’t know what they’re really like.”
“But that’s the point,” I said. “I’m not friends with them. But they’ve been friends with you for ages. They know you. They like you.”
“Exactly. It’s different for you, because they haven’t known any other version of you. You’re wearing a fucking necklace right now, and no one’s said shit. It’s, like, your thing. But it’s not my thing. My thing is being a basket-baller, and being one of the guys. You think I’d get away with coming to school tomorrow wearing a necklace with a pendant on it?”
“Look,” I said. “I get why you’re scared, honestly. Of course you are. Coming out is scary, and—”
“I’m not ready to come out!” he shouted.
“I am not asking you to,” I said, slapping the steering wheel in frustration. “But if I’m with someone, yeah, I fucking expect that they aren’t going to go dirty dance with someone else to prove a point, or insult the way I dress or act in front of their friends.”
“I said I’m sorry!”
“I don’t care if you’re sorry! I didn’t want an apology. I wanted you to think of me, and care about how I’d feel, before you did something horrible. But you didn’t. So how can I keep doing this if I know the thought of breaking my heart isn’t enough to stop you from doing something no one is forcing you to do?”
“I did it so we can keep hanging out without—”
“No, no, don’t try to act like last night was for my benefit. Why don’t you just admit last night was one hundred percent about you being terrified someone might figure things out, and zero about me?”
“So what if it was?” Will asked. “Am I not allowed to be scared?”
“Of course you are. But that’s the problem. If you’re so worried about what people might think that you need to do shit like that as a response? How am I supposed to be with someone who could do that to me?”
Will folded his arms and shook his head. Apparently he had no reply. Which only incensed me more.
“You treat me like dirt. You’ve noticed that, right? And every time you apologize, I think it’ll be different this time, but it’s never different. You genuinely do not seem to give a shit about whether I’m okay.”
“That’s not true—”
“It’s true, Will! I would never do something I knew would hurt you. Not to save myself from embarrassment, or to throw people off my tracks, or anything. I just wanted that from you.”
“I didn’t—”
“I just wanted you to care,” I cried. My throat felt clogged up, and I knew I’d start crying any second now, so I chose anger. Better than sadness. And hurt. “But you didn’t, and you don’t. So, get the fuck out of my car and leave me alone.” He paused for a while, and I shoved my key in the ignition. “I said get out of my car. I need to go babysit the kids. I’m already late.”
He nodded. Silently, blinking, he climbed out of my car and walked across the parking lot with his arms still folded tightly across his chest. A junior accidentally stopped in front of him, and Will shoved his way past with way more force than he needed to, lowering his head as he went.
And so, Will and I commenced operation: silent treatment.
It was hard to say who was ignoring who, because we both put our best effort into pretending we had no idea who the other was. No texts, no eye contact, no speaking in class. It was too late for him to move desks in Music Appreciation, but he pettily started sitting as far to one side of it as he could, with his back turned at a slight angle so he didn’t even have to see me in his peripheral vision.