What Happened to Goodbye

  “I don’t know what happened,” I said.

  She turned, walking across the short hallway to where the SEXXY mirror was lying on the floor by my locker and picking it up. “I think you can blame this thing. I think once they’re put up, they are not meant to be removed.”

  “Now you tell me.” I reached up tentatively to my nose, but just the slightest touch made my whole face hurt.

  “Here. Let me see.” She squatted down in front of me, peering in close. “Oh, man. You’ve got quite a mark there. Look.”

  She held up the mirror at my eye level. Sure enough, I had a red bump on the middle of my nose, which seemed to be growing in size as I watched it. I wasn’t sure if it was broken. But it was anything but SEXXY.

  “Great,” I said. “This is just what I needed today.”

  “Of course it was.” She smiled, then reached down, picking up my backpack. “Come on. We should take you to the nurse, get some ice on that thing.”

  I pushed myself to my feet, feeling her watching me. I felt all shaky, in that weird way you do when your equilibrium, not to mention everything else, has been knocked askew. As if sensing this, Riley took my arm, holding my elbow. Her touch was light, but I could still feel her steering me as we turned into the main hall.

  Down in the nurse’s office, we were triaged behind a guy who was vomiting (ugh) and a tall girl with a fever and bright red cheeks. I was given a pack of frozen peas and told to wait. I picked a seat as far as I could from the other patients, then sat down, pressing it to my nose. Ahhhh.

  Riley sat down beside me. “Is that helping?”

  “Big-time,” I told her. Around the peas, I said, “You don’t have to stay. I’m sure you have something better to do.”

  “Not really,” she replied. When I glanced at her, doubting this, she added, “I have a free period. I’m supposed to be in the math lab or the library, but no one really checks up.”

  “Lucky you,” I said. “How’d you swing that?”

  She shrugged, crossing her legs. “I have an honest face, I guess.”

  I reached up, tentatively touching my nose again. It was a bit more numb now, but the bump was bigger. Great. Across the room, the vomiter was looking sort of green. I put the peas back on.

  “So,” Riley said, as the nurse passed by, collecting the girl with the fever and taking her into the other room, “you and Dave, huh?”

  I swallowed. Well, it wasn’t like this was a surprise. “It wasn’t really anything. We just went to the game.”

  “So I saw.e="3">  I glanced at her. “My dad’s a big U fan. Watching the games is pretty much mandatory at my house.”

  “My dad used to be like that, too,” I told her. “But about Defriese.”

  “Not so much now, I bet.”

  I took the peas away again. Her face was sympathetic, though, not teasing. “No,” I said. “Not so much.”

  We sat there for a moment, both of us silent. Then she said, “I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable the other night. When we were talking outside your house.”

  “You didn’t,” I told her.

  “It’s just . . .” She looked down at her hands, then opened them up, spreading her fingers across her knees. “Dave kind of brings out my overprotective side. I don’t want to see him get hurt, you know?”

  “He told me you were, like, his only friend when he started here.”

  “Pretty much. He met Ellis in homeroom his first day, but we were the sum total of his inner circle. Plus, he was coming from Kiffney-Brown, which is like another planet. I mean, his best friend there was thirteen.”

  “You mean Gerv the Perv?”

  “He told you about him, huh? God, is that kid a nightmare. I mean, he’s supersmart and all, but a person can only take so many booger jokes, you know?” She rolled her eyes. “Truthfully, though, I probably wasn’t the best choice either. It’s because of me he started going to parties and doing all that other stuff that got him in so deep with his parents. He would have been better off with just Ellis.”

  “You and Ellis aren’t friends?”

  “We are now,” she said. “But mostly because we have Dave in common. Ellis, you know, he’s a good kid. Plays soccer, is involved with a bunch of school stuff. I mean, he does the freaking TV announcements. Definitely a better choice for Dave than taking up with me.”

  “I’m not sure about that,” I said. “You seem like a pretty good friend.”

  “Yeah?”

  I nodded, and she smiled.

  “I try. Really, though, it’s selfish in some ways. I have this weird thing about wanting to take care of everyone, not just Dave. It makes things complicated.”

  I shifted the peas. “Simple has its downsides, too.”

  “Meaning what?”

  “I don’t know,” I said. “I move around a lot. So I hardly get to know anybody. It might be easier, but it’s kind of lonely.”

  I wasn’t sure why I was being so truthful. Maybe it was the crack to the head. Riley turned, looking at me. “You think you’ll be staying here for a while?”

  “No idea,” I told her.

  “Huh. Really.”

  She faced forward again. I said, “What?”

  “It’s just,” she said, “you haven’t done that here. Not made friends.”

  “I haven’t?”

  She looked at the green-faced guy across from us. “Mclean,” she said. “I’m sitting here with you, in the nurse’s office, during my free period. That means we’re friends.”

  “But you’re just being nice,” I said.

  “Just like you were nice to me, the other night at my car,” she replied. “Plus, you took Dave to the game. You invited Deb into a social gathering which, believe me, no one has ever done here, to my knowledge. And you haven’t smacked Heather yet, which is a much better record than most.”

  “That’s not that hard,” I told her.

  “Yes, it is. She’s my best friend and I love her, but she can be a total pain in the ass.” She sat back, crossing her legs again. “Face it, Mclean. You might think you don’t want any connections, but your actions say otherwise.”

  “Mclean Sweet?” I looked up to see the nurse, a clipboard in hand, standing in the doorway to the examining room. “Come on back. Let’s take a look at that bump.”

  I stood up, picking up my bag. “Thanks for coming with me,” I told Riley. “I appreciate it.”

  “I’ll stay until you’re done,” she said.

  “You don’t have to.”

  She settled back in her chair, pulling out her phone from her pocket. “I know.”

  I followed the nurse into the room, taking a seat on the cot as she shut the door behind us. What a weird day, I thought as she rolled a stool over, gesturing for me to remove the peas. As she leaned in to inspect the damage, I looked through the glass of the door out into the room beyond. It was blurred and thick for privacy, so you couldn’t really see details. Even so, I could make out the shape of a figure sitting there, a presence nearby, waiting. For me.

  At lunch, walking out to the courtyard with my burrito and bottled water, I got the distinct feeling people were staring at me. Or maybe gawking was a better word. I knew my nose was swollen, but the attention I was getting—and had been getting since my run-in with the locker—seemed excessive. Then again, maybe a girl who looks like she’s been in a bar fight is just big news on a slow Monday.

  Riley and Heather were nowhere to be seen, so I walked over to Deb, who was sitting alone under her tree. She had an iPod on and her eyes were closed, listening.

  “Hey,” I said. When she didn’t look up, I nudged her foot, and she jumped, then opened her eyes.

  “Oh, Mclean!” she said, hurriedly taking out her earbuds. “It is true! I thought it was just a vicious, nasty rumor.”

  “What?”

  “You and Riley,” she said. When I just looked at her, she added, “Your fight? I heard she punched you, but I didn’t want to believe—”

  ?
??Riley didn’t punch me.” I looked around the courtyard again. Several people were looking right back, and didn’t even bother to break their gaze. “Who said that?”

  “I heard itin the bathroom,” she whispered. “Everyone is talking about it.”

  “Oh, for God’s sake.” I sat down, putting my lunch on the ground beside me. “Why would she punch me?”

  Deb picked up her Diet Coke, taking a sip from her straw. “Jealous rage,” she explained. “She saw you and Dave Wade at the game this weekend and just lost it.”

  “She and Dave aren’t together,” I told her, unwrapping my burrito. Honestly, though, I’d kind of lost my appetite.

  “I know that, and you know that. But apparently, the rest of the school does not.” She tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. “You know how it is. Most people think a girl and a guy can’t just be friends, that there has to be something else going on. It’s basic.”

  “I guess,” I said.

  “So . . .” she said slowly, studying my face. “What really happened? ”

  “I clocked myself with my locker door.”

  “Ouch.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  “Really, though,” she said, taking another sip, “it doesn’t look that bad at all. If it wasn’t the girl-fight angle, nobody would even notice.”

  Time to change the subject. I nodded at the iPod, on the ground between us. “What are you listening to?”

  “Just this mix I made,” she said. “Music, you know, calms me down. I find it’s helpful to just sort of zone out to it when I’m having a long day.”

  “I hear that,” I said. “I could use some calming myself. Can I listen?”

  “Sure,” she said. “But—”

  I was already reaching over, picking up her earbuds and sliding them into my ears, expecting to hear the soft, lulling tones of adult contemporary. Or maybe a peppy show tune. Instead, I got a blast of feedback, followed by a drumroll.

  I recoiled, pulling out one earbud. The other one stayed in, filling my head with the sound of someone screaming incoherently over what sounded like a chain saw. “Deb,” I sputtered, turning the iPod over and peering down at the screen. “What is this?”

  “Just this band I was in at my old school,” she said. “They’re called Naugahyde.”

  I just looked at her. “You were in a band?”

  She nodded. “For a little while.”

  The person in my ear was still going, their voice ragged and loud. “You,” I said slowly, “were in this band?”

  “Yeah. I mean, it was a small school. Not a lot of options.” She adjusted her headband. “I’d been taking drum lessons forever, but I really wanted some collaborative experience. So when I saw the ad for a drummer, I applied, and got to sit in for some session work.”

  “Deb,” I said, holding up my hand. “Hold on. Are you messing with me?”

  “What?”

  “You just . . .” I trailed off. “You don’t exacayed in, flook like a speed-metal drummer.”

  “Because I’m not,” she said.

  “You’re not.”

  “I mean, I don’t quantify myself that way. I’m trained in all genres.” She reached into her bag, taking out a pack of gum, and offered me a piece. When I declined, she stuck it back in, zipping it shut, then looked up at me. “Although I do like the faster stuff, if only because it’s more fun to play.”

  I opened my mouth, still shocked, but no words came. Before I could form any, Dave suddenly plopped down beside me. “Hey,” he said, shrugging off his backpack. “What’s going on here? ”

  I turned to look at him. “Deb,” I said, “is a drummer.”

  “Holy crap!” he said.

  “I know!” I said. “Isn’t that crazy? I just—”

  “What happened to your face?” he asked.

  So much for it hardly being noticeable. “Riley punched me,” I told him.

  “She what?”

  “That’s the rumor,” I said, picking up my water. “At least according to Deb.”

  “I heard it in the bathroom,” Deb explained.

  Dave looked at her, then at me again. “Whoa,” he said, leaning in closer. “She really got a good hit in.”

  I just looked at him. “Do you really believe she’d do that?”

  “To you?” he asked. “No. But she does have a good arm on her. That, I know from experience. What was this fight supposedly about?”

  I looked at Deb, who quickly busied herself looking for something in her purse. Finally, I said, “Apparently, it was a jealous rage spurred by seeing us together at the game.”

  “Ah,” he said, nodding. “Right. The jealous rage thing.” He carefully raised a hand, touching my cheek. In my peripheral vision, I saw Deb’s eyes widen. “What really happened?”

  “My locker door attacked me.”

  “They’ll do that.” He dropped his hand, then smiled. “You need some ice or something?”

  “Already got it at the nurse’s office,” I told him. “But thanks.”

  “It’s the least I can do,” he said. “Since I was the cause and everything.”

  I smiled. “You joke, but the rest of the school totally believes it. Just look around us.”

  Dave turned, scanning the courtyard. Since he’d joined us, we had even more of an audience. “Whoa,” he said, looking back at me. “You’re not kidding.”

  “People can’t resist a love triangle,” Deb said.

  “Is that what this is?” Dave asked. He was talking to her, but looking right at me, and I felt my face flush.

  “No,” I said.

  He shrugged. “Too bad. I’ve always wanted to be part of one of tse.”

  “Oh, no you don’t,” Deb told him, shaking her head. “It’s no picnic, let me tell you.”

  I snorted, which made Dave laugh. Deb just looked at us, not getting the joke. “Deb,” I said, “is there anything you don’t have experience with?”

  “What do you mean?” she asked.

  “It’s just . . .” I looked at Dave for help, but of course he gave me none. “You’re an expert on tattoos. A drummer. And now, you’ve been in a love triangle.”

  “Just once,” she replied. Then she sighed. “But once was more than enough.”

  Dave laughed, then looked at me again, and I felt this little rush. Like a tiny flame flickering. No, I thought just as quickly. I’m not staying here long. He’s not my type.

  “So, Deb,” Dave said. “You coming to Luna Blu this afternoon to work on our model project?”

  “It’s not our anything,” I said. “I was just there that day to help Opal. It’s for delinquents only.”

  “Not true,” he corrected me. “It’s a service project for anyone who has a hankering to serve their community.”

  “A ‘hankering’ ?” I said.

  “I love volunteering!” Deb exclaimed. “Is it really open to anyone? ”

  “Yep,” Dave told her. “And don’t listen to Mclean. She’s practically spearheading the entire thing.”

  “It sounds like so much fun! I love group projects,” Deb said.

  “Then you should come by some afternoon. We work from four to six,” Dave said.

  “Are you speaking for me?” I asked him. “Because I won’t be there.”

  “No? ” he asked. We looked at each other for a moment. Then he said, “We’ll see.”

  Deb looked at me, then at Dave, then back at me again, her expression a question. Before I could say anything, though, the bell rang, its sound ricocheting around the courtyard, making my ears ring. She jumped up, reaching for her bag, but still kept her eyes on Dave, intrigued, as he eased himself to his feet, then turned and looked down at me.

  “You didn’t have to take a punch for me, you know,” he said. “I’m a lover, not a fighter.”

  “You’re a freak is what you are,” I said.

  He stuck out his hand. “Come on, slugger. Walk with me. You know you want to.”

  And the thing w
as, despite everything I knew—that it was a mistake, that he was different from the others—I did. How he knew that, I had no idea. But I got up and did it anyway.

  That afternoon, when I got home, my dad’s keys were in the door. When I pulled them out and pushed it open, I heard voices.

  “Stop it. Seriously. This isn’t funny.”

  “You’re right.” A p="1em" ali“It’s pathetic.”

  There was some giggling. Then, “Look, if we rank everyone on the staff with the point system, and incorporate the evaluations like we discussed, then go off of that, then . . .”

  “. . . we’ll have official numeric confirmation that we do, in fact, have the worst staff in town.”

  I heard a snicker, then a full-out burst of laughter. By the time I got to the kitchen doorway to see my dad and Opal at the table, a bunch of papers spread out between them, they were in hysterics.

  “What are you guys doing?” I asked.

  Opal picked up a napkin from the bowl on the counter, dabbing at her eyes, then opened her mouth to answer me. Before she could, though, she broke down again, waving her hand in front of her face. My dad, across from her, was sputtering.

  “Corporate,” Opal said finally, or rather gasped, “wants us to decide who our weak links are.”

  “And the answer,” my dad added, snorting, “is everyone.”

  They both burst out laughing again, like this was the funniest thing in the world. Opal put her head in her hands, her shoulders shaking, while my dad sat back, trying to catch his breath.

  “I don’t get it,” I said.

  “That’s because,” my dad said, wheezing, “you haven’t been at it for four straight hours.”

  “Four hours!” Opal said, slapping her hand on the table. “And we’ve got nothing. Zip, zilch, nada.”

  My dad tittered at this. He sounded like a little girl. I asked, “Why are you doing this here?”

  “We can’t do it at the restaurant,” Opal said. She took a deep breath. “It’s very serious business.”

  My dad howled at this, throwing his head back, which set her off again. I headed to the fridge for a drink, wondering if we had a gas leak or something.