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Authors: Alex Flinn
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okay?”
“Go.”
“I said I wouldn’t.”
“Go! You bitch.”
The background noise had stopped, and I heard Caitlin gulping back tears. Finally, she said, “Don’t be mad. I know I sounded selfish, but I thought maybe you’d feel better by tonight. I don’t want to go without you.”
I didn’t answer a second. I was a worm. Because I’d been mean to her. Because of my face and my father’s hands. Because I was a worm .
“I’m not mad at you,” I said, thinking, I need you . “But I can’t go tonight if I don’t want to suit up.”
“Oh.”
“Call me again at lunch?” I struggled not to add please .
Cat called at lunch and after school, begging to come over both times. I wanted her to come. God, did I want her to, but I couldn’t let her. Instead, I told her to text me when she got home .
That night, she called during the game. When I asked if she missed it, she said, “I miss you.” I didn’t believe her, but I fell asleep with the phone in my hand .
FEBRUARY 12
----
Hallway by Mr. Christie’s classroom
“Hello.”
Caitlin whirls to face me.
I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t trying to run into Caitlin. Since I figured out her new class schedule, I’ve even been bugging out of third period history, hoping to see her. After two weeks, it finally works.
“Nick, you’re supposed to leave me alone.” She starts to jog toward class.
“You going to have me arrested for talking to you in the hall?” I move closer, and she stops. She carries a wooden hall pass and wears a pink dress, revealing a veil of freckles from days she forgot sunscreen.
“No,” she says.
“I forgot my book’s all.” I rein in the arm that’s reaching for her and force my eyes to the floor.
“I know you didn’t plan it,” she says, her voice uncertain. She thinks of something else. “Did you call Monday? I’ve been getting hangups.”
“What are you saying?”
“I just thought—”
“Caitlin, you hauled me into court, you had some judge order me not to call you.” Chuckling at the absurdity of it. She hasn’t left. I move two steps closer, the smell of her Finesse shampoo calling up stupid memories of watching reruns together after school. “Throw the order away, Cat.”
“I have to go.” She doesn’t move.
“I’m going to counseling every week. I’ve changed.” I make the big gamble. “You feel the same way you always did, don’t you?”
Her face tells me that’s true. The hall is dead silent. The big wall clock ticks nine, twenty minutes until the end of class. Her eyes meet mine, and I think I see her hand move toward me. I reach for her.
She flinches. “Don’t, Nick.”
“Don’t what? Who’s talking to you?”
“No one.”
“Is it Elsa? Saint? They don’t know me, Cat.” I slide my hand onto her waist, leaning close. She doesn’t pull away. “Only you know me. You know I get stressed out, the way things are at home. I never told anyone else, just you. You were the only one who understood.”
“I know.” I can feel her breath on my face, blood coursing under my hand, the feel and smell of her sending my own blood rushing to all the same nerve endings. We stare at each other, and I see her giving in to the feelings.
Then, she turns away, saying, “I can’t take this.” She hurries toward her class.
I watch her go. Before she reaches the door, I say, “I never loved you, you know.”
She stops a second in the silent hallway. She lifts her chin and stares at me a long time. Finally, she says, “Thanks, Nick.” She shakes her head. “Thanks for reminding me why I can’t be with you.” She slips into her classroom.
I start to walk the other way. Something on the floor catches my eye. Caitlin’s pen, dropped in her hurry to escape me. I recognize it from the way she bit the cap. I used to hate that, but now, I pick the pen up and place it in my mouth, caressing her teeth marks with the tip of my tongue.
Later that day
I still have Caitlin’s pen
“Go.”
“I said I wouldn’t.”
“Go! You bitch.”
The background noise had stopped, and I heard Caitlin gulping back tears. Finally, she said, “Don’t be mad. I know I sounded selfish, but I thought maybe you’d feel better by tonight. I don’t want to go without you.”
I didn’t answer a second. I was a worm. Because I’d been mean to her. Because of my face and my father’s hands. Because I was a worm .
“I’m not mad at you,” I said, thinking, I need you . “But I can’t go tonight if I don’t want to suit up.”
“Oh.”
“Call me again at lunch?” I struggled not to add please .
Cat called at lunch and after school, begging to come over both times. I wanted her to come. God, did I want her to, but I couldn’t let her. Instead, I told her to text me when she got home .
That night, she called during the game. When I asked if she missed it, she said, “I miss you.” I didn’t believe her, but I fell asleep with the phone in my hand .
FEBRUARY 12
----
Hallway by Mr. Christie’s classroom
“Hello.”
Caitlin whirls to face me.
I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t trying to run into Caitlin. Since I figured out her new class schedule, I’ve even been bugging out of third period history, hoping to see her. After two weeks, it finally works.
“Nick, you’re supposed to leave me alone.” She starts to jog toward class.
“You going to have me arrested for talking to you in the hall?” I move closer, and she stops. She carries a wooden hall pass and wears a pink dress, revealing a veil of freckles from days she forgot sunscreen.
“No,” she says.
“I forgot my book’s all.” I rein in the arm that’s reaching for her and force my eyes to the floor.
“I know you didn’t plan it,” she says, her voice uncertain. She thinks of something else. “Did you call Monday? I’ve been getting hangups.”
“What are you saying?”
“I just thought—”
“Caitlin, you hauled me into court, you had some judge order me not to call you.” Chuckling at the absurdity of it. She hasn’t left. I move two steps closer, the smell of her Finesse shampoo calling up stupid memories of watching reruns together after school. “Throw the order away, Cat.”
“I have to go.” She doesn’t move.
“I’m going to counseling every week. I’ve changed.” I make the big gamble. “You feel the same way you always did, don’t you?”
Her face tells me that’s true. The hall is dead silent. The big wall clock ticks nine, twenty minutes until the end of class. Her eyes meet mine, and I think I see her hand move toward me. I reach for her.
She flinches. “Don’t, Nick.”
“Don’t what? Who’s talking to you?”
“No one.”
“Is it Elsa? Saint? They don’t know me, Cat.” I slide my hand onto her waist, leaning close. She doesn’t pull away. “Only you know me. You know I get stressed out, the way things are at home. I never told anyone else, just you. You were the only one who understood.”
“I know.” I can feel her breath on my face, blood coursing under my hand, the feel and smell of her sending my own blood rushing to all the same nerve endings. We stare at each other, and I see her giving in to the feelings.
Then, she turns away, saying, “I can’t take this.” She hurries toward her class.
I watch her go. Before she reaches the door, I say, “I never loved you, you know.”
She stops a second in the silent hallway. She lifts her chin and stares at me a long time. Finally, she says, “Thanks, Nick.” She shakes her head. “Thanks for reminding me why I can’t be with you.” She slips into her classroom.
I start to walk the other way. Something on the floor catches my eye. Caitlin’s pen, dropped in her hurry to escape me. I recognize it from the way she bit the cap. I used to hate that, but now, I pick the pen up and place it in my mouth, caressing her teeth marks with the tip of my tongue.
Later that day
I still have Caitlin’s pen
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