Maybe what was best for her was stepping back and watching her from a distance. I could still try to keep her safe, even if she hated my guts.
“You excited for the game tonight?” she asked, smiling sweetly.
I still couldn’t believe she could just ignore what happened last night. That she could look past thinking I’d been dumb enough to overdose on drugs.
Except I knew eventually, she’d see the real me and she’d toss me aside. It wouldn’t be any different than my parents.
“Tristan?”
I looked down, feeling the resolution solidify in me. “You ever finish that video for videography class?”
“Almost. I just need to do some touch ups on the edits.”
“Good. Then I don’t need to see you anymore.”
Kennedy looked like she’d had the wind knocked out of her. I wanted to look away, but I didn’t let myself. Embrace the pain. “I had my fun with you. Have a nice life.”
I got up and walked toward the exit of the cafeteria. It felt like I left a part of me sitting back on the bench beside her. When I stupidly looked back before leaving, I saw that her head was in her hands and her shoulders were shaking.
I’d thought once about how Kennedy was like a flame. How I enjoyed being around her because I liked the way it burned. Except I couldn’t help feeling like I’d just snuffed out that fire instead of preserving it.35KennedyI knew I shouldn’t have, but I went to the football game after school. Even though it felt like my insides had been scooped out and left to dry, I went and waited to see him come out on the field.
I’d spent most of the day feeling sorry for myself, including crying in front of Logan when he came to comfort me and through all my classes. But I eventually decided there was one thing I did know. I could fight this. I didn’t know why Tristan was trying so hard to push me away, but I didn’t need to.
It went back to what Logan had said. Keep trying. If I cared enough, I would keep trying.
Except there was another voice in my mind telling me it wasn’t that simple. This wasn’t all some grand act or something deeper. It was actually blindingly simple.
Tristan saw me in my chair again. He had already been having doubts and distancing me. But seeing me in my chair today was the final straw for him. It was the last reminder that I’d always be the difficult one. The broken girl. The burden.
He was one of the four kings of Parker High, and he didn’t want to have a girl in a wheelchair anchoring him down.
So I didn’t come to the game to fight to convince him not to walk away. I just came to wallow. To watch him play, as if there’d be some secret key to understanding everything in the way he threw a ball to sweaty guys in tight pants.
Marne found me by the fence a little way into first quarter. She had a big, camouflage hoodie on despite the relative heat. “I heard the news,” she said.
“Which news? About how I got dumped? Or how pathetic I looked sobbing my way through my classes today?”
“Hey,” she said, giving me an awkward side hug. “Nobody judged you for crying about it. But I’ll admit, there were some legendary stories about how long the booger that fell out of your nose in sixth period was.”
I smiled wryly. “I appreciate that you’re trying to make me laugh, but I don’t really feel like I’m in a laughing mood.”
“Oh, I get it. The coolest guy in school was dating you, and now he’s not. You can’t even really cross your fingers that the next guy will be so hot you’ll make him jealous. Because… well, you already dated the hottest guy. It’s all downhill from here. And the worst part is his next girlfriend is either going to be in a wheelchair, or she’s not.”
I squinted up at her. “I’m not following how any of this is supposed to make me feel better?”
“You said you weren’t in a laughing mood. I thought that meant you wanted some help with the self-pity.”
That actually drew a chuckle from me. “Okay. Fine. So why would it be bad if his next girlfriend was in a wheelchair?”
“Because, if she’s in a wheelchair, it means he was just using you for the wheels. You were a fetish to him. Thinking about your round, rubber bubblies got him all hot and bothered. But he used you up and moved onto the next downhill wonder. Or. He dates a girl who isn’t in a wheelchair. In which case, you’re no competition. You know, functional legs and all.”
I angled my chair to the side and kicked Marne in the side of the leg. She nearly lost her balance, then glared at me. “What was that?”