Keep Holding On (14 page)

“Don’t remind me,” I grumble.

“No, you look good. But … what’s different?”

Wait. He doesn’t even know it’s my hair? Does he not see that half of it was chopped off and it’s all pinned back?

“You can’t tell?” I ask.

Matt pulls me close to him. “I can tell you’re pretty,” he whispers. Then he kisses me.

I let myself be kissed. Pretty soon I forget that there’s anything to be mad about.

“Oh my god, it’s
true
?” a girl’s voice yells from behind the wall.

A girl’s voice I recognize.

Because she used to be my best friend.

Audrey stomps over to us. She has crazy eyes. “Carly told me you guys came out here, but I had to see for myself.”

“We’re not—this isn’t how it looks,” Matt protests.

“Oh, no? Then why does it look like my boyfriend was just kissing a dirty skank?”

I gape at Matt. He’s Audrey’s
boyfriend
? How can he be her boyfriend when he’s
my
boyfriend?

Matt’s not explaining that this is all a joke. Or that Audrey is lying. He’s not even looking at me.

“How many times have you guys come out here?” Audrey wants to know.

“It’s not a big deal,” Matt says. “She’s not even—”

“How
many
?!”

“I don’t know.”

“More than twice?”

“Yeah, but—”

“Asshole!”

“Audrey, come on.” Matt touches Audrey’s arm. It’s like I’m not even here. All Matt cares about is convincing Audrey that I’m nothing.

“Don’t
touch
me!”

“I—”

“Get off me!” Audrey shakes Matt off. She gives me such a nasty look that I can’t believe we were ever best friends.

“First Corey, and now this?” she accuses me.

Is she really bringing up those Valentine’s Day chocolates Corey Smith gave her in eighth grade?

“I wasn’t jealous of Corey. And I didn’t even know you were …” My throat gets tight.

“That I was
what
?”

“Going out with … Matt.”

“Yeah right, I’m sure you didn’t.”

“I didn’t!”

“Gee, I wonder why I don’t believe you.”

“Tell her I didn’t know!” I yell at Matt.

“Like I’m really going to trust you guys.” Audrey’s glare is ice-cold. “This isn’t over,” she threatens. Then she storms off.

“Why—” I start to ask Matt. But he runs after Audrey, leaving me behind.

“What just happened?” Sherae says.

“You heard
already
?”

“Everyone’s talking about it.” Sherae glances back at the cafeteria. After Matt abandoned me, I stayed out at our place until Spanish started. No way was I going to class. I could feel how puffy my eyes were from crying. I couldn’t stop shaking. Sherae has lunch fourth period, so I snuck over to the cafeteria and waved her out.

“They are?” I say.

Sherae looks at me. “No, not
everyone
,” she backtracks. “Just … some people heard from Audrey.”

“Heard what?”

“You know Audrey. She’s saying you stole Matt from her or some such nonsense.”

“I didn’t even know they were going out!”

“Are you going to tell me what happened?”

I tell her everything. The words squish my heart like a sponge. Then the tears come back in a rush.

“Here.” Sherae brings me down the hall a little. We sit against the wall.

When I can talk again, I say, “I thought Matt and I could be together for real. I thought if I just gave him more time, he’d realize that he loves me. And that he’d want everyone to know we’re together.” I wipe my eyes with the back of my hand. “He said he wanted to be with me. He said he cared about me. He was the only one who could be my boyfriend and now he’s gone. I just can’t believe—”

“Where are you girls supposed to be?” a security officer interrupts.

“Lunch,” Sherae tells him.

“Both of you?”

“Yes.” She grabs my arm. “We’re going in.”

We might have gotten away with it if the lunch monitor wasn’t one of those annoying people who remember every little thing.

“Haven’t seen you in a while,” he informs me, blocking the door.

“Yeah, I have lit mag now.”

“Fifth period?”

“Yeah.”

“This is fourth.”

Man, he’s good.

I tell Sherae I’ll meet her at her locker before fifth. Then I sneak down to the bathroom I used to hide out in. I was hoping that I wouldn’t ever have to hide in there again. But that’s the thing about life. You can never trade yours in for a better one.

Note about Noelle Wexler found on the floor of biology class in ninth grade, written on wide-ruled binder paper in alternating pink and blue ink:

Of course the whole school knows by the end of the day.

Including Julian.

I wonder which version of the rumor he heard. Probably the one where Matt and I were doing it in the middle of the tennis court.

When Julian finds me at my locker after school, I don’t even try to escape. I just hope this part of the truth will make him feel better.

“Guess what I heard,” he says.

“How many guesses do I get?”

“Is any of it true?”

“What did you hear?”

“That you were going out with Matt Brennan.”

“Then I guess you heard right.”

“I didn’t know you had a boyfriend.”

“No one did.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I’m sorry. It’s complicated.”

Julian shakes his head.

I wait. I don’t know what to say.

“Whatever,” Julian says.

For the second time today, I watch a boy I love walk away from me.

Matt wasn’t the only reason I can’t be with Julian. But it’s easier to let him think it was.

When your heart
is shattered into a million pieces, all you can do is try to keep holding on. You breathe. You try to fall asleep. You try to not think about him.

Last night was a million years long. I kept looking at the clock, willing it to be morning already. I even thought about taking out my secret box.

I drag myself to the bus stop. All I wanted to do was stay in bed. I was going to tell mother I was sick, but she goes ballistic if I’m still home when she wakes up.

I’m waiting for the stupid bus when a car pulls up to the curb. I hardly notice it at first, assuming it’s just one of the moms dropping her kid off. But then I see who’s in the car.

It’s Audrey. With her friends.

This is not good.

“Hey, scuzball!” Audrey yells.

All the kids at the bus stop stare at me.

“What kind of loser takes the bus when they’re old enough to drive?” she speculates.

I kind of have to agree with her on that one.

The kids standing closest to me back a few steps away. Everyone knows that Loser is catching.

The car squeals away. For the first time in my life, I can’t wait for the bus to get here. It picked the worst possible day to be late.

A minute later, another car turns down the street. Except it’s not another car. It’s the same car with Audrey and her friends.

As the car gets closer, I realize that they’re all holding shotguns.

This is it.

They’re going to kill me.

I can’t believe this is how it all ends. On a gorgeous spring day under an impossibly blue sky, waiting for the bus.

Unreal.

Audrey leans out the back window. She positions the gun on her shoulder. She targets me through the viewfinder.

Everyone at the bus stop runs.

I should be running, too. I tell myself to run. But really, what’s the point? When I’m dead, I won’t have to endure this relentless pain. Maybe I’ll come back as a kid with a better life. Or maybe I’ll pass over into that alternate universe where outsiders don’t even exist.

So I stand there. Looking straight at Audrey. Daring her to do it.

The first impact hits me in the stomach. Someone screams. I
look down at myself. There’s a splatter of red on my shirt. More splatters start showing up on my arms. I put my hands over my head and crouch down. I hear the car zoom by.

When it sounds like the car is gone, I slowly take my hands away and look up. One of the middle school girls is crouched behind a tree, crying as her friend hugs her. A freshman boy runs over to me.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

That’s a good question. Shouldn’t I be dead by now? Red is splattered all over me. Some of the places where I got hit really sting.

“Those paintballs can be rough,” he says.

Paintballs? They shot me with
paintballs
? Those guns looked
real
.

“I’m okay,” I tell him. “But I should probably go home and change.”

“Good thing you crouched down. It could have been a lot worse if they hit you in the face.”

I’m a trembling wreck going home. I try to wipe some paint off my arm where it stings the worst. The red paintblood smears.

My key shakes when I try to put it in the lock. There’s a good chance I might throw up. I try not to wake up mother as I go to my room and close the door. My shirt is ruined. And of course I had to be wearing my only jeans that fit. I take everything off, careful not to get paint on the carpet.

Mother bangs on my door.

“Just a minute,” I say.

“What are you doing home?” she demands through the door.

“Can you give me a minute?” I yell. I put on a fresh shirt and jeans and open the door.

“Why are you here?” mother says.

“I had to change my clothes.”

“Why?”

I kick my splattered jeans and shirt over to her.

“What happened?” she asks. “What’s this all over your clothes?”

“I was waiting for the bus and—” My throat closes up.

I will not cry about this. Not now.

“Some kids shot paintballs at me,” I manage to whisper.

“Are you okay?”

Am I
okay
? Since when does mother care if I’m okay? She even looks concerned like a real mom.

“It hurts,” I say.

“Go to the nurse when you get to school.”

“I missed the bus. Can you drive me?”

Mother never drives me to school. She always makes me walk the mile to the train station, even when it’s freezing out. But today should be different.

She takes another look at my arms. I watch the concern in her eyes fade to disinterest.