She makes me wait all the way through the opening credits before she speaks again.
“I didn’t plan it out, all right? I just felt kind of annoyed with how he was acting during the drive and the dinner, and it was probably going to end next year anyway, and I just figured I may as well do it now, you know? And maybe I wasn’t wracked with doubts the whole time, but . . . at the end of the day, I just wasn’t as into him as he was into me.”
“Sure.” I knew that all along, really, which makes the Thin Mints settle uncomfortably in my stomach. I knew it, and I didn’t give Chris any kind of heads-up even when he asked. There’s the best friend code, and then there’s not caring enough to step in when someone’s setting themselves up to be sucker punched.
Melissa sighs loudly. “Just, why be tied down for two more months? Better to make a clean break. He couldn’t have expected us to end up married.”
“Gross, no.” I snort, but I also don’t miss how Melissa sounds like Xiumiao talking about clean breaks.
“So whatever. Maybe I want to keep my options open. Maybe this is for the best.”
I’m nodding along, but my brain is juggling guilt and anxiety, so it takes me a minute to really register her words.
“Wait, do you like someone else?”
“God, what? No! I don’t—no! Jeez, Ellen. We just broke up!”
So that’s a yes, then. This conversation has gone from worrisome to intriguing. I need another cookie.
I wait patiently through three more scenes before I ask, “Is he on the quidditch team? Or someone from band?” Then, while Melissa sputters, I make a grab for the cookies tucked into her elbow.
I’m too slow. Melissa yanks the box out of reach and shakes her head. “Nice try. Watch the movie. And you’re way off base, by the way.”
“You’re literally quoting ‘I Won’t Say I’m in Love,’ an entire song about being in denial.”
I wait through the rest of Brave, but Melissa never says anything else. Even in Melissa’s room, when all the lights are off and I’m curled up against the wall under the extra comforter (Melissa’s air-conditioning is always set to arctic temperatures), I’m still waiting for her to snap and admit everything. But she never does.
We always joke about our telepathic connection, but I don’t like this feeling of words unsaid.
* * *
• • •
Melissa wakes me up at nine because, late-night breakup or not, she’s still a responsible human with a normal sleep schedule. I notice that the calendar on her door includes bright pink spots for quidditch practices now, plus stars for the tournaments Karey keeps mentioning, one coming up at the University of Houston and one farther away in Austin. We bring granola bars up to the den and watch Cartoon Network and brainstorm for the epic fanfiction we’ve discussed but never started writing about Finn the Human’s biological parents. Everything feels normal, and I don’t know how to bring up the weirdness of last night without making everything weird again, so I just . . . don’t.
I wait until the show ends and the dishes are rinsed, and it’s almost time for me to drive Connie’s car back home, and then I say, “So . . . we’re still going to quidditch on Wednesday, right? You’re not . . . I don’t think you need to be worried about Chris.”
I balance on one leg next to the front door, tugging my shoe onto my left foot while Melissa leans against the side table where her family keeps mail and car keys and sunglasses. She flips through piles of bills and coupons and examines a flyer for free pizza. “Oh, no, I’m not worried. We’re definitely going.”
Huh, she seemed worried about it last night. “Things look brighter in the morning?” I ask. “Or was my pep talk just that great?”
“Did you give a pep talk?” Melissa asks (which, ouch). “No, actually Karey was telling me that it’s fine. Everyone’s pretty used to it.”
“Oh.” I shrug. “I’m pretty sure I told you the exact same thing.” Melissa flips the pizza flyer without comment. “Did you tell Karey why you ended it or who you like now? Do I need to be best-friend jealous?” I laugh, but only halfway.
Melissa flings the flyer at me, and the cardstock corner catches my elbow. “Now you sound like Chris.” She sighs. “And why do you think I like someone?”
“Oh, was he getting jealous?” It makes sense; if I saw his insecurity then of course Melissa would be seeing it more intensely and more often. Probably that’s why she didn’t want to deal with him anymore.
“Ugh,” Melissa groans. “I’m sick of talking about it. Tell me what’s going on with you and John.”
“What?” I blink too many times. How can she be sick of talking about something we still haven’t talked about? “Me and John and the rest of the quidditch team, you mean? There is no ‘me and John’ by ourselves.”
“Oh, come on.” Melissa raises one eyebrow. “You realize he’s, like, always following you, right?”
“Okay, creepy.”
Melissa tosses more mail at me. “You know what I mean! Like, looking at you, standing near you. He’s totally into you.”
“Well . . .” I’m not completely oblivious to the following. John isn’t always nice to me, but he does always seem to be around, saying something. “It’s not a big deal.” I don’t particularly want him to like me.
“He’s cute,” Melissa says, voice neutral.
“Yeah, but—”
“Aha! So you admit it!” Melissa giggles, way too pleased with herself.
“Yes,” I repeat. “But. He kind of makes me feel . . .”
“Tingly?” Melissa enters giggling-fit territory.
I throw the pizza flyer back at her. “No. He makes me feel stupid.”
“Oh.” Melissa stops giggling and tilts her head. “Stupid like ‘Oh, I’m awkward because you’re cute,’ or stupid like stupid?”
“I’m not sure.” I shrug. “I’ll keep you posted. If you promise to keep me posted about your new boy.”
Melissa yawns, pointedly refusing to react to my probing. “Don’t you have to be home in, like, five minutes?”
“To be continued,” I mutter. Melissa can’t be sick of talking. Dissecting interactions and decisions and feelings is what we do.
Melissa just rolls her eyes. “Whatever.”
Since I almost always get rides, I’m not used to walking out of Melissa’s house alone. The front door swings shut behind me with an ominously final thud, and some obnoxious not-early bird warbles an obnoxious morning song, and I’m suddenly annoyed at Melissa. Yes, fine, relationships end and that’s normal and healthy, but she just dumped Chris with no warning and apparently no thought, and her biggest concern was how it would affect her quidditch participation. It seems selfish. You can’t just excise people from your life without considering their feelings.