Paula Stokes - The Art of Lainey

“Please, Kendall.” I try once more to steer her away. My eyes are still trained on the floor. “It’s not worth it.”

Now Amber is screaming too, calling Kendall a psycho-bitch, telling her to back off. Somewhere between them I hear Micah telling Kendall he’s not afraid of her and that she shouldn’t speak for me. Their voices encircle me like snares; they stab me like spikes. My head is throbbing from the smoke and the lights and the thudding bass. I barely notice a small group of people beginning to cluster around, hoping for an actual fight.

“I can ruin you, you know that?” Kendall shouts. “I can make sure that no one ever speaks to you.”

“Stop it, Kendall. That’s enough!” I give her wrist another vicious yank. “Quit being a bitch.”

She looks at me in surprise, rubbing her wrist where I grabbed her. “No. It’s not enough. No friend of mine is—”

Of course. Once again Kendall is making my problems all about her. “This has nothing to do with you,” I say. This time she finally lets me drag her away.

“What has gotten into you?” she asks. “Did you really just call me a bitch? I was defending you, in case you didn’t notice, since you seem incapable of doing it yourself.”

The comment hurts but I’m in no mood to make an even bigger scene. “I told you to stop.” I have to shout so she can hear me over the pounding bass. “He doesn’t matter to me. I used him, okay? That’s all it ever was.” Of course the music picks that moment to cut out so my words explode across the club like a machine-gun blast. Micah and Amber are halfway out the door, but they hear every word. I can tell by the way Micah stumbles, just barely.

Nearby a voice I don’t recognize yells, “Damn, that was cold, even for her.”

Micah turns halfway around to face me. Once again I wish the lasers would vaporize me on the spot. His eyes sear into mine, with what? Surprise? Hurt? Both. And then all of the expression fades away until he looks dead. More like a ghost than a real person. Everything goes blurry, like I’m watching the events unfold through a fish tank. I barely notice the pale circles, faces of people still staring at me, hoping for more theatrics. My eyes see only one thing, the dark outline of Micah’s back as he disappears through the front door of the club, with Amber at his side.

I’m supposed to work at Denali the next day, but I tell my parents I’m sick. I can’t face Micah. I have no idea what he might do. Maybe he’ll go off on me in front of the whole coffee shop, reduce me to tears as Jason did at the beginning of summer. Only this time it’ll be worse, because this time the whole crushing feeling will be totally deserved. Or maybe he’ll quit talking to me completely, freeze me out like I don’t exist.

I pull the covers up over my head. I want to go back to sleep so I don’t have to think about it.

A few minutes later, my mom pops into my room with some mail. An issue of Soccer Illustrated and some letters from college athletic departments that I should probably open right away. But they’re all small Division II and Division III schools and even though I should be glad anyone is interested in me, it just feels like one more big, fat failure on top of everything else.

“Just put it all on my desk,” I say. “I’ll look at it when I’m feeling better.”

She stacks the letters neatly on top of the magazine and comes to sit on the side of my bed. Reaching out, she feels my cheek with the back of her hand. “You don’t feel feverish.”

“I have a killer headache and I’m really tired,” I say. “And nauseous,” I add for good measure, giving her my best queasy face.

“You’re not pregnant, are you?”

“Mooom!” I blush, even though I know it’s not a possibility. “Not a chance.”

“Are you certain? Those birth control pills aren’t 100 percent effective, you know.”

“Positive,” I assure her.

She kisses me on the forehead. “Good. I suppose you can stay home today, but I hate the fact that I’m not going to be here to take care of you.”

“I don’t need anyone to take care of me,” I say. “I’m just going to go back to sleep.”

Her face crinkles up. “Okay, sweetie, but call your father if you need anything. I’ll be in meetings but he could always slip away from the shop for a few minutes if he had to.”

“Sure, Mom.” I roll onto my side so I’m facing away from her. The reality is, I’ve already been asleep for close to ten hours. More shut-eye is not going to happen. I wait until she leaves and then sit up in bed. For the first time all summer, I’m actually bored.

I send Bianca a text.

Are you picking up my shift?

Her: Probably. Are you sick?

I start texting her about what happened last night but then give up and call her. She listens quietly while I run through the whole disastrous evening. Micah and Amber dancing. Micah and me on the patio. Amber catching us. Kendall going psycho-bitch on Micah. Me losing it.

“I blew it, Bee.” My voice cracks. “I said all that stuff so Kendall would shut up, but the way Micah looked at me.” I shudder. “It was like I was dead to him. And he and Amber looked pretty cozy leaving together.” It takes everything I have to choke this last sentence out.

Bee sighs. “Oh, Lainey. You really like him, don’t you?”

I grab a tissue from my nightstand at blot at my eyes. “Yeah, but I messed everything up.”

“First of all, quit letting Kendall get to you,” Bianca says firmly. “And second, just go talk to him. You told him you liked him and he said he liked you too.”

“Yeah, but then I basically told half the school that he meant nothing to me.”

“He’s been hanging out with you for how long?” Bee asks. “I’m sure he knows how you get when you’re upset. Just apologize.”

“Maybe you’re right,” I say. “I’ll think about it.” After we hang up, I reread all of my text conversations with Micah, smiling at some of our sarcastic exchanges. But each time I start to type out an apology, I end up deleting it. Maybe I should just leave not-well enough alone, quit while I’m behind, save both of us the awkwardness of having to talk about what happened. What would be the point? Micah chose Amber. I should respect that, even though it hurts.

And then my phone rings. I’m praying it’s Micah, that he received my messages telepathically or something, but it’s my brother.

“Hey, Steve,” I say.

“I heard you’re sick. I just wanted to check up on you after our little chat last week. Still upset about Jason?”

“Believe it or not, he wanted me back and I turned him down.”

“That’s my girl,” Steve says. “Plenty of other guys out there.”

“Yeah, I kind of had one, but I managed to mess that up already.”

“Holy crap.” Steve chuckles. “You move fast. When I told you to find a better guy than Jason, I didn’t mean in one day. You don’t want to rush into a rebound thing.”

“You’re probably right,” I say. “Maybe the best thing is to just spend some time alone.”

Saturday, my dad really needs me at Denali. I go in, praying that Micah isn’t working, even though I know he’s scheduled. My heart sinks like a rock when I see the Beast parked in its usual corner spot. I sit in the Civic for a few seconds, making extra sure there aren’t any tears near the surface. Stay in control. Stay in control. Stay in control . I’m good. I can do this.