“Riley, do you want to be partners?”
Liza stands over Riley’s desk with her notebook. Her hair is braided down in a French-braid. She wears cherry earrings, a white jacket though it’s in the seventies, and white tennis shoes. Her red capris actually go with her outfit. Before she hung out with anyone outside of me, she wore jeans and whatever shirt she could find. I don’t even remember her taking the time to do her makeup.
She’s wearing full foundation, lipstick, and a red-hued eyeshadow look.
Looking up from my notebook while also trying to hide behind my hand, I try to gauge if she can tell I’m looking at her. So far, I’m in the clear.
“Yeah. What topics do you have in mind?” Riley pulls out the seat next to her.
Liza sits down, placing her bag on the ground. She’s also carrying around a purse. I don’t know what she can possibly need that warrants a backpack and a purse. It looks good on her.
I’m about to analyze the new buttons she’s put on her bag when a notebook slaps down in front of me. I jump as the chair next to me pulls out. The legs screech against the linoleum tiles.
“Miss me?” Lianna snaps her gum between her teeth and slumps down into the chair.
“I was hoping you’d forget. Or get hit by a car.”
“In school? Very imaginative.” She quirks up the corner of her lips. It’s an almost smile, but I can’t always tell with her.
She flips open her one bent notebook. The pages are mostly marked with cursive writing that’s too slanted to make out or mindless doodles that are a little too erotic for me to not blush at. I look away when she gives me the side eye.
With her hand holding the cover, she pulls a pen out from under her shirt—I raise a brow when it’s apparent she’s been storing it in her bra. She either doesn’t see the slight quirk of my brow or she ignores it.
On the corner of the page she crawls:
I saw you.
I reread the sentence, ears ringing. It’s clear what she’s seen, but I don’t know exactly what she’s interpreted it as. To her, it can mean I’m jealous my friend was stolen.
I lick my lips, look around the room to see if anyone is watching us, and then take up my own pen.
So?
I feel foolish as I’m writing it. We’re acting like kids, exchanging notes. But there’s something nice about it. It feels like being transported back to a time simpler than this.
She likes dogs, not cats.
I stare at the words. She nudges me.
All the excuses flying through my head aren’t enough. She won’t buy them and I’m not entirely sure I buy them either. I already know my feelings are teetering on the edge of right and wrong. Liza’s been my friend for a long time, but at some point, she became more than a friend.
As our English teacher—Mrs. Quillette—stands at her podium and begins passing out the worksheets for the morning, I glance at Liza. She has her hand tucked under head as she writes something at the top of her notebook. Riley’s talking to her with her head tilted towards her. I can’t make out the words nor can I even guess what they’re talking about. By the smile on Riley’s face as she looks at Liza, I hate that they’re having fun. My stomach twists as I imagine the unthinkable.
I can see them in Liza’s bedroom, sprawled on the bed I had once shared with her when we were little. They’re closer than Liza and I had ever been. As close as two girls can be.
I can longer see them as just friends. They’re touching, pulling each other in while the sunset glows on their nude bodies.
I shock myself. My eyes widen and I quickly look at my desk. There’s a paper in front of me. I don’t recognize it until Lianna says something.
“Here,” she says. She puts my pen into my hand. My fingers are numb as she curls them with her own.
“Forget about her.”
I jerk my hand away and begin correcting the worksheet.
“Piss off.”
“I love it when you talk all romantic.”
I don’t have anything to say to that.
***—
Mrs. Quillette finishes explaining our project.
“Liza, help me pass out the papers.”
Liza stands from her desk. Her hips sway as she walks to the front of the room to grab the stack of papers from Mrs. Quillette’s outstretched hand.
She even walks differently now. Like she’s got a stick up her ass.
When she gets to our table, she slides our papers across the top. She gives me a stink eye and then walks away to the table behind us.
I thought I would be over all the dirty looks. But it feels the same as ever. Like the first time. In the parking lot, after Riley drove off with my best friend, that was the last chance I had.
Mrs. Quillette is going on about the finer details, reading through the sheet that outlines the upcoming month, but I don’t hear or see any of the words. Liza and my plan in progress fill my thoughts. I don’t even notice Lianna leaning closer to me.
“What topic do you want to do?”
“Um…” I furrow my brows while trying to make out a list of possible choices. They’re all a blur. I look up once more and I hate that my eyes fall onto her. It’s so fucking annoying.
The bell rings.
“Maya,” Lianna says. She pokes me with the tip of her pencil.
I turn to her, but I’m not entirely looking at her. I’m back in the kitchen with her pressed against me and her lips on the corner of my mouth. It almost doesn’t feel real. It doesn’t feel as if it happened. But I know it has to be real because I would never in a million years imagine it on my own.
A fantasy coming true. It’s sickening to think about because when any of that stuff pops in my head I see his face in it.
Half the class has left, but Lianna isn’t concerned with them. She’s paying attention to me.
The look on her face disrupts all my first assumptions about her. The worry lines make it seem like she actually cares about me. We both know she doesn’t give a shit. I’m a new toy. The new interesting thing she can fuck with. That’s how this goes.
My thoughts about Lianna—whether they’re full of malice or hate—disappear. Liza scurries out of the room.
Lunch. This is it.
I don’t bother saying anything to Lianna. Let her figure it out on her own.
I gather my things, stuffing them into my bag, and rush to the door.
“Maya?”
I can barely hear her voice before I’m out of the room and into the sea of kids heading to their next class. The top of Liza’s head sticks out. It bobs and weaves, cutting off my sight of her a few times.
I push my way through the crowd, getting a few choice words from younger kids who probably don’t know I’m a senior. I’m almost close enough to call her name. I don’t. She’ll race out of here faster.
And also because I’m too scared to.
Even as my legs carry me on their own, my mind is going crazy thinking about talking to her. The first words are going to be the hardest to get out. The second hardest thing is going to be hearing her rejection. She won’t want anything to do with me if I’m still hanging with Lianna.
I have to explain the situation to her.
The doors to the cafeteria finally come into view. The kids are dispersing, heading to their next class, or going the same way I am. Liza stops outside the doors.
I see them then. Zoey and Trisha.
I freeze like I always do when danger comes around. My sense of feeling flies out. Pinpricks like cod needles pushing in and out of my skin make my knees weak. For a second, I think about turning around now and forgetting about it.
But what the hell is Liza doing talking to Zoey and Trisha?
What they have to say doesn’t last long.
Zoey and Trisha head off to the bathrooms while Liza stands with her back against the wall. She’s not smiling. She’s nothing doing anything.
My feet won’t move. I tell myself to get the fuck over there, to take the moment and fly with it. It doesn’t register.
Lianna pops up again. Her condescending words about how I need excitement. It’s her fault all this happened. And it’s my responsibility to make it right.
It’s like cement is pooling under my feet. Each time I think about taking a step, it gets harder to move.
Liza is just standing there. She looks like the young girl I used to know. Before school destroyed us. Before it destroyed the world we built around us. That’s who she looks like today with her cute earrings and styled hair. She might look different on the outside, I know there’s still an ounce of her in there.
That’s what gives me the strength to pull away from the clutches of my own fear. It’s not the idea of fixing the other problems in my life or curing the need to slit my wrists when the world feels like it’s crumbling down.
It’s her. It’s always been her.
“Liza?” My voice is wobbly.
She jerks her head up from looking at her hand. She frowns. “What do you want?”
“I—” Come on. Get the words out. “Can we talk?”
She crosses her arms, looks around, and then gives a sigh. It’s like looking at me puts a damper on her mood. “Make it quick. I’m meeting someone.”
She sounds like a businesswoman. So professional. Straight to the point without the BS.
“The things you said the other day…I want to let you know you were right.”
She caught off guard. The admission makes my mouth dry. She looks around us. I wonder what she’s thinking. I just hope she isn’t going to run away.
When her eyes meet mine, I’m taken back to when we first met. As a child, I liked to believe I was more approachable. It was before I found out this would never last. Back then, I was too blinded by the joy of being a child and the simplicity of life. I didn’t have to work or pay for everything I had. For most, I was sheltered and coddled by Mom. Though I wasn’t as rich as Liza was, we had a common ground in some aspects.
She was a loner and so was I.
Looking at her now, I can see she’s come past that. She has more friends than I will ever have. She’s also made something of herself. Getting into college should have been a goal of mine, but I know it will never happen. My grades are shit and money doesn’t exist in my life anymore. After graduation, I’ll end up working for a fast-food restaurant while everyone else in my class goes to get some degree.
She scrutinizes me for another minute and then decides.
“Let’s go sit down.” She turns with no other word.
It takes me a second to get over my surprise.
I follow her into the cafeteria.
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