Page 50 of Habits

I don’t even know why I’m stressing so much about her. She should be out of my mind by now. Hell, she was supposed to be out of my mind as soon as the deed was done, but no.

Not her.

Everybody but her.

It’s driving me crazy.

A small, equal parts pained and frustrated sound comes out of my mouth. Quiet, yet loud enough so that a few people who sit close to me can hear it, and they lift their gazes to look at me with probing eyes.

I meet their stares head on, daring them to say something out loud. Not only am I going crazy, but I’m also agitated, which is never a good combination. Thank God it’s Friday. We have a game to play later today and then a party to let loose.

My leg starts jumping up and down nervously. Lifting my gaze from my notebook, where I pretend to write while in reality my mind is otherwise occupied with thoughts of her, I find myself looking in her direction.

Seated in the middle of the class, she’s always looking for a space to blend in, only she can’t. She wouldn’t be able to blend in even if she became invisible.

She did something with her hair. It’s not straight like usual, but wavy, barely touching her shoulders. She’s wearing another sweater form her arsenal, this one formfitting and dark gray that I’m sure makes her eyes stand out even more.

I let my eyes drink her in because I know this is the only chance I’ll get. Max is watching me like a hawk when we’re in a close proximity. That is, when she shows up at all.

The whole week she’s been avoiding the cafeteria for lunch. The girls said she’s busy working on some project for school, but I know better than that. Jeanette is avoiding me. And with Max in almost all of our classes, this was the only chance I had to get her alone.

Not that it’s made a difference because she’s an expert when it comes to avoiding. Sliding into the classroom just as the final bell rings and running out as soon as class ends, with most of the kids still seated.

If that’s not the definition of avoiding, I don’t know what is.

Sliding my hand into the pocket of my jeans, I take out my phone. Holding it out of sight, I lift my eyes to scan the room. Mrs. Wright, our AP English teacher, hates when we use our phones in class. If she catches me, not only will she take my phone, but she’ll also give me detention. Something I can’t risk, not with the game after school.

She writes something on the board, so I decide to use this opportunity to type out a message.

You can run, but you can’t hide.

When I hit send, I lift my gaze and look at her. For a few heartbeats there is nothing, and then I see her shoulders tense.

Her hand slides under the desk, although her eyes are still glued to the front of the class and our teacher, who’s now turned around, talking animatedly.

I look at her, pretending to listen, but I don’t hear a word she says because my mind is concentrating on the girl sitting a few rows in front of me.

Finally, Mrs. Wright turns back to the board to write some more. Jeanette’s head falls forward, and most would think she’s writing down notes, but I know better. She’s reading the message.

Her whole back snaps up, rigid, and I can feel her angry attitude all the way from here. For some reason, it gives me joy. My lips curl in a half-smirk, and I can finally feel myself breathe again.

She doesn’t turn around. She doesn’t acknowledge me in any way. But I simply know.

She read my message, and it pissed her off.

And for some reason, that makes everything right in my fucked-up world again.

* * *

Jeanette

The bell rings and I’m on my feet, dashing out of the classroom. I’m so glad it’s Friday because I’m not sure how much longer I would be able to keep it up. Running away all the time … it’s tiring. But there’s nothing much I can do about it.

If my fight with Max and his warning weren’t bad enough, seeing Andrew’s hateful message on my phone the day after was an eye-opener in itself.

What happened last weekend shouldn’t have happened. For various reasons. One of them being that Andrew is Max’s friend and teammate, and the last thing I want is to cause my brother trouble during his last year playing in high school. He’s good at playing hockey, better than good actually, and he needs to end this year on a high note so all those prestigious colleges with division one teams notice him and offer him a spot. That has been his dream for years, and I’m not going to take it away with my selfishness.

But there is also the fact that Andrew is a screw-up just like me. Max was right; we’re both damaged goods. Two jaded, broken people, with fucked-up pasts who will only bring more pain to one another. So completely wrong for each other.

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