With the last few weeks of tolerable weather, the cafeteria doors hang open. Students pile out on the grass and around the picnic tables. Max, Sophie, and I have taken a spot under the crooked and nearly bare limbs of a tree covered in gum. A right of passage, I have been told, to shove gum on a tree, I guess.

“Let’s see if I’ve got this straight.” Max swings his fork, throwing pieces of mashed potatoes. A lump twirls past Sophie, nearly signing his death certificate. Max sets the fork aside before hellish wrath descends upon the mortal realm.

“You found a homework assignment in the library that had a list of movies on it. After watching those movies, you responded to this note, thus making a new pen pal that goes by K. Am I right so far?” Max asks, and I nod. “For the last two months, you’ve been acting like secret lovers from the seventh century.”

“That’s a bit dramatic,” I interrupt.

He ignores me. “You’ve been exchanging notes in the library and now have a crush on K.”

“I don’t know about crush, but, like interest?” There is no point in lying, but here I am, trying to lie through my teeth and hot cheeks. “We don’t really know each other, so crush is pushing it, don’t you think?”

Max smiles, neither sympathetic nor agreeing. That is a grin of villainy, teasing in the simplest but most effective form.

Sophie, however, cares not for my feelings when she speaks bluntly from beside me. “It’s definitely a crush. Go on, Max.”

“Ok, so yesterday you asked to meet up with K to watch a movie and they said no. Things are now awkward and you are asking us for our advice on how to proceed?”

“Which I’m learning is a terrible idea, so let’s drop this and move on,” I grumble.

Max cackles, full on villain style. “Ain’t happening.”

“Why didn’t you tell us sooner?” Sophie asks. At least she’s a little serious. Max is already rubbing his hands together like the monstrous beast he truly is.

“I thought you might find it weird that I am exchanging notes and wanting to meet a total stranger,” I answer.

“Everyone starts out as strangers.”

I stab at my lunch that looked disgusting before and certainly does now after my incessant need to destroy it. My appetite is nonexistent. It left me as soon as I read K’s note and has yet to return.

“Besides, I’m glad you’re interested in anyone after that cheating bastard,” Sophie growls, chancing a look over her shoulder in the general direction of the cafeteria windows.

Whether Hudson is anywhere near is beyond me because I refuse to look.

Sadly, we share the same lunch, but I’ve become a pro at avoiding eyeing Hudson’s side of the cafeteria. And Hudson learned not to come near me after Sophie slammed her heel into his toes, twice, and Max accidentally poured pop on him. Sometimes my friends annoy me, but they certainly did not on those days.

“Right, you speaking with K now may be exactly what is needed. But if K doesn’t want to meet, why not ask to exchange phone numbers or socials?” Max suggests.

“If they wanted that, wouldn’t they have asked after refusing my request to meet up?” Neither Sophie nor Max answer, both sitting in the same confused silence that I’ve felt since yesterday. Now I’m breaking the points off my plastic fork because, apparently, destruction is how to make oneself feel better.

“Let’s look at this from K’s perspective first.” Sophie leans forward, tapping her long nails against the table. “K also doesn’t know who you are, right?”

“Nope.”

“So why would they want to remain anonymous?”

Max snaps his fingers. “Perhaps they’re already seeing someone? If you think there has been potential flirting, they may worry that meeting up will lead to more.”

“Wow, a good idea for once. Impressive.”

“Why do your compliments always sound like insults?”

I normally find amusement in Max and Sophie’s bickering, but Max’s suggestion has given me a stomachache.

His suggestion is one I did not consider. After being cheated on, I certainly don’t want to be in a position like that. I don’t want to be the cause of someone’s heartbreak. These past few months have been awful. I wouldn’t wish these feelings on anyone, this emptiness that hits me in the dead of night or the moments where I peer at my reflection and wonder what I lacked to make Hudson respect me so little, to betray me.

Was it because of the way I look? The way I present myself, too feminine some days, too masculine others, sometimes androgynous or whatever other label someone wants to throw at me. Was it too troublesome to date me? They’re questions I’ve asked a thousand times, but I would never ask him because if his answer is what I fear, then it’s another slap to the face. Another hit, another reminder that I’m not what the world wants me to be.

Sophie’s voice cuts through my paranoia. “It could be more simple than that. K may like you back.”

Now Max and I are on the same wavelength, directing befuddled expressions at her.

“You said K seems a little shy, right?” She asks and I nod. “Then maybe K is feeling shy right now. Meeting you and changing things up might be more than they can handle. They may be as confused about how to progress as you are.”

Now that is an option I’d wish for. We’d have that in common then, the nerves eating away at my gut even now. Wondering how the other feels, where they want this to go, if this is even a “this.” Feelings are so overly complicated, but it’s nice knowing these overly complicated feelings may be shared with another.

“So what do I do?” I ask. “If K is nervous, would bringing up meeting again be a bad idea?”

“Definitely. But now K knows for sure that you want to be more than just pen pals, real life friends at the very least. I’d say talk like usual for a bit longer, then ask if other forms of communication are possible.”

Sophie and Max are reaffirming the ideas I’ve already had, but I feel a thousand times better, more confident and less foolish. If they think it’ll work too, then I’m not a complete dumbass.

*

When classes end, I go to the library as I always do. This time someone is there, standing in the third row.

I throw myself in the second row before the stranger notices me. My heart has become a hammer that an angry construction worker beats against my chest, hoping to tear the house down.

Through the excitement, I chance turning around. Holy shit, they’re standing in front of the school bus bookend! I can’t see what the stranger is doing with their back to me, nor do I recognize them. Their hair is liquid gold, curled out around round ears. They’re in band, that much is obvious by the school jacket and the saxophone case sitting on the ground next to them. Could this be K?

Band person pulls out a book, puts it under their arm and disappears, having not noticed my presence.

I’m not dejected, not yet. They’re at the counter checking the book out from Mr. Mikalik when I pick up the school bus. The note is there, so is K’s response.

There was nothing wrong with asking. I’m the one who is sorry. I’ve been told I’m not the best at communicating so I’m sorry if I came across as a jackass.
—K

My gaze shoots across the room to Band Person. They’re slipping the book in their bag, then our eyes meet. Theirs are a deep green that...show absolutely no recognition of me, the significance of this spot, or worry of having been spotted. Flinging the bag over their shoulder, the stranger marches away, stomping on the little hope I had.

They weren’t K, and even if they were then, damn, with those acting chops they better be an actor rather than a director.

A heavy sigh rattles my frame that slumps with even more disappointment.

At least K doesn’t hate me. They apologized. They’re worrying, like I am, I think. That gives me more hope that Sophie is right. K can be shy and, as they proclaimed themselves, shit at communicating. I get that.

My dad has told me stories of how long it took him to confess to my mom, how his thoughts were always jumbled together, and he never felt like the right words would ever be there. I blame his genes for always fumbling to present anything in class. We all struggle with something. Apparently K is struggling with this, so am I. It’s weird to think I’m grateful, but I choose not to linger on it as I reply;

Ok so, I couldn’t wait until tomorrow because I was worried about your response. I’m not saying that to make you feel bad, but I’m really relieved that we’re still talking. I still want to talk about movies or whatever. It really doesn’t matter what so thank you. This time, I promise I’ll have an essay for you tomorrow about the movie.
—A