Page 53 of Tell Me Softly
I didn’t even have dinner that night. Instead, I sat at my desk, just in front of the window that looked out onto the house next door. I doodled on a sheet of white paper, waiting for Thiago to come home. Hoping he’d look out his window and see me. But he never did.
Before I got in bed, I looked down at the pair of lips I’d drawn. They seemed to be trying to tell me something. I’d always liked anatomical drawing, analyzing the human form, trying to figure out what traits made a person what they were, how feelings were expressed in the body. I think I managed to capture this in my art. But this time, I didn’t know who those lips belonged to.
Were they Taylor’s? Or Thiago’s?
***
The next morning, I got up early. After class that day, we’d be going to Falls Church, and we needed to bring a bag with clothes for the weekend. Falls Church was two and a half hours away, and it was the nearest town with a nationally ranked team.
I had no idea how the weekend was going to go, but two days in a motel with all my friends––including Taylor––and with Thiago as a chaperone was the worst thing I could imagine right now.
I threw my gym clothes and my cheerleading uniform into my bag. We’d spend the whole next day practicing. I included a couple of nice outfits in case we went out to eat, and naturally, I didn’t forget my pompoms. I also grabbed my father’s gigantic UFC shirt, which I loved to sleep in, and my makeup bag and skincare.
When I dragged my bag downstairs, Mom was waiting for me with breakfast on the table.
“You’ve got ten minutes, and then it’s time for us to go,” she said, finishing her coffee. I’d asked her to take me so I wouldn’t have to leave my car in the lot for the whole weekend. I poured myself a bowl of bland cereal and looked up as I saw my cell phone slide across the table. I was surprised and excited as I picked it up and heard her say, “Call me when you get to Falls Church. And don’t get too excited. The phone comes back to me once the trip is over.”
So much for that brief moment of happiness. But at least I had the chance to check my Instagram and read my latest messages. Two in particular caught my eye. One was from Taylor:
I don’t know what it is, Kam, but I can’t stop thinking about you. Please tell me we can at least talk things over this weekend. Don’t let my brother come between us. Good night, precious.
Damn. I guess I wouldn’t be able to duck him as easily as I’d hoped. Not that I wanted to, or not entirely. I liked Taylor, I liked spending time with him; he made me feel…good.
But then there was Thiago. He had made it very clear to methat my life would be a torment if I didn’t stay away from Taylor. And I didn’t doubt that he meant it.
There was another message from that morning at four a.m. I didn’t have the number in my saved contacts. But I knew who it had come from.
Not a word about what happened. Don’t mention it to me or anyone else. I hope this time you know how to keep your mouth shut.
I had no idea how I was going to handle all this. I could tell myself to stay quiet, and I would, but that didn’t mean it would vanish from my mind…or his.
How could I look him in the face after what had happened? And worse still, how would I look at Taylor?
On the way to school, I blasted music through my earbuds so I wouldn’t have to hear my mother talking shit about my father. I wasn’t in the mood, especially not after my conversation with him the night before.
I gave her a quick kiss on the cheek when we arrived at school and went inside without stopping to talk to anyone. I walked to my locker, bopping my head to my music. As I gathered my books, I saw Taylor and his friends walking down the hall. I knew he saw me, and he tried to come over, but I pretended not to notice and walked off into the bathroom, where I remained until the bell rang. Because of that, I was late, and my math teacher didn’t appreciate it.
The seats in the back were taken, so I had to sit in the front row. Mr. Gomez was telling us how to calculate a matrix. I guess he’d heard I was screwing up lately, because he wouldn’t stop asking me questions. He even made me go up to the board and do an exercise. And I’m not going to lie—I was completely lost. Math had never been my strong point, and I had barely studied at all this year. Dad was right: I was slacking. I wasn’t thinking about my future.
“Kamila, this needs a lot of work,” Gomez said when he saw me struggling. “If you want to keep that GPA up, you’re going to need to do better than this.”
I couldn’t believe he’d said that in front of the whole class. Some of the kids there looked back and forth, surprised; others laughed, while others smiled and looked down into their laps, embarrassed for me. It was just as I’d thought. Secretly, everyone wanted me to fall.
And since school had started that year, I had the feeling I’d taken a nosedive.
“Girl, what’s up?” Ellie asked later when I was coming out of history class. Thankfully, Mr. Stow had at least agreed to let me do a project on Anastasia.
“Nothing. I’m just distracted,” I said, walking with her to her locker so she could grab a new pen. Her old one had blown up on her in class, and she had blue ink all over her white shirt.
“Jesus, this is a disaster,” she said. “It looks like a Smurf took a piss on me.” I laughed. “Did you hear about Danny?”
I had been looking at my phone, at Taylor’s message, which I still hadn’t answered. We needed to talk about our biology project, but the thought of it gave me chills. I asked Ellie, “What did he do now?”
“Him, nothing… It’s his parents. They just donated twenty grand to the school.”
“What?”
“You heard me. So magically the principal’s given him a second chance, and he’s back on the team. He’ll be playing against Falls Church.”
