I stare at the message.
Actually, Karey, I should be typing, I really hate to do this because I so wanted to go . . .
Actually, Karey, my parents hate me, so . . .
My thumbs refuse to move across the tiny keyboard.
Nope, can’t go, I should type. Rip the Band-Aid off.
It should be simple now that Melissa wants nothing to do with me. The whole point was to hang out with her, to make sure we didn’t miss best friend moments and all that.
A long string of comments stretches under Karey’s message.
Lindsay Trouble Young
Don’t forget sunscreen!
Elizabeth Lomas Ramirez
And chug water. Also, after-party info?
Erin Barone
Aaron Levine
Erin Barone
x10000
Aaron Levine
Jackson Hu
Do we need any special equipment? Like padding or mouth guards? Or helmets???
Karey Yates
No helmets! Grab a mouth guard if you can; I’ll pick up extras. Also bring cash for food and to pay drivers for gas. Message me if you need a team scholarship.
Elizabeth Lomas Ramirez
Are we going to sleep slumber-party-style on dorm room floors, or will we have beds?
John Bauman
Don’t count on beds . . . unless you find a UT player to share
Karey Yates
Yeah, most likely slumber-party-style. But hey, all part of the bonding fun!
Erin Barone
I drop my phone on the desk and shove my chair back to crash into the bed frame. I don’t want to see everyone’s excitement.
As my anger fades, my chest has room to fill with something else, something cold and dark instead of burning. I’m disappointed. I want to play quidditch this weekend.
Sometimes when I have a hard time with something, the struggle makes me not want to do it anymore. Quidditch is just the opposite. Sometimes groups of people make me so nervous I want to sink into the ground. Quidditch players don’t make me feel that way. Sometimes—lots of times—I feel weird and out of place and dorky and scared and powerless. But on the quidditch pitch, I feel like I could be strong.
I want to go to the tournament. I have my heart set on it. I just didn’t realize it until now.
When Connie left over Christmas, she proved that Dad needed her. I thought she was punishing both of us, but that was never it. She showed him that he had a choice: her or me. And now he’s chosen.
I think of how hard I’ve tried, all summer, to show Dad that I’m part of the family. All pointless.
The rules I’ve followed, the words I’ve swallowed, every forced smile and fake apology and scoop of shared Rice Dream feels extra pathetic now that it’s clear how little difference it made.
I don’t want to try anymore. I want to rip away from this whole mess. I finally see the appeal of getting space. And I sure as hell don’t want to sit at home all weekend babysitting for a family that doesn’t need me.
The idea doesn’t start as a plan, but it blossoms into a rough one pretty quickly.
19
First, I stalk my chat contacts until I see Xiumiao come online. I’m frustrated that I have to do this, that I can’t count on my friend to answer me without scheming to make myself extremely hard to ignore. Xiumiao hasn’t even acknowledged that she dumped me right along with Melissa, and I just let her keep sending memes like everything is fine, and I’m done with it. Maybe I won’t get closure, but I can at least ask for something I need right now.
Ellen: Hi, can you answer this please?
Xiumiao: I know this isn’t exactly news but I’m obsessed with Hamilton.
It’s an answer. Not great textual communication etiquette, but I’ll take it.
Ellen: I need a favor
Xiumiao: Whatever you say, sir
Xiumiao: Jefferson will pay for this behavior
Ellen: Not a musical-quoting favor. An actual one.
My thumb hovers over the phone keyboard. I could leave it at that, but I can’t stand to let Xiumiao ghost me without at least telling her that I noticed.
Ellen: I know you’ve made it clear that you’re done being friends with me or whatever, but honestly I will never bother you again if you do this for me.
I wait for twelve long minutes before getting a response.
Xiumiao: What are you talking about?
Xiumiao: Why would I not want to be friends?
Xiumiao: Have you been secretly mad all summer because I didn’t want to hang out with Melissa?
Well. That I was not expecting.
Ellen: I wasn’t secretly mad. You wanted to be done with high school so you can start college with your new college friends and never look back. And you barely answered my texts.
Xiumiao: Have you met me? I’m terrible at responding.
Ellen: Well, that’s shitty.
Xiumiao: Okay, it’s shitty. I thought you understood that I needed a break from her.
Xiumiao: From Melissa. Whom I’m over.
Ellen: I’m not Melissa.
Xiumiao: No, but you would have been talking about her all the time. You know you would.
Ellen: I mean, I could have tried if you gave me a chance. I did try.
Xiumiao: You were literally spending all your free time with her this summer. I saw you for like five minutes at Tea Corner and you brought her up in the first sentence. And it seemed just as shitty to be like “Do not speak her name in my presence.” Or make you choose who to hang out with or whatever. It was my problem. I didn’t want to make it your problem.
Xiumiao: Plus it was pretty clear who you’d choose if it came down to it so . . .
Ellen: ???
Xiumiao: I didn’t say I didn’t want to see you this summer, Ellen. I said I didn’t want to see Melissa, and your immediate reaction was “Oh, so I guess we can’t hang out.” So that’s what happened.
I try to remember if this is true.