But where my father is reserved, level-headed, and a homebody, Blair’s dad is a bit of an adrenaline junkie. Zip-lining, hang-gliding, or jumping out of an airplane; you name it and he’s done it. He’s taken Blair on some pretty epic adventures, and it’s not a surprise that he allowed his teenage daughter to spend three months out of the year in a third-world country with all of its natural disasters and human dangers.
Out of all the things I lost when Blair abandoned our friendship, my relationship with her father is one of the worst. Of course, I miss her, and what we could have been. But Todd is like a third parent to me, and one I can go to with no judgment or repercussions. Since Blair and I had our falling out, her father and I have become distant as well, and that’s a damn shame.
My parents, and probably Todd too, just think we grew apart, that it was some kind of natural distancing due to being a guy and a girl in the midst of high school drama. Mom still talks about Blair like she’s some kind of angel, and I know that she thought we’d date one day.
I don’t have the heart to tell them what she did to me. Also, it’s embarrassing, and how was I going to explain to my parents that we were playing seven minutes in heaven? No, better to have them think that Blair and I just have different friends and different interests.
Deep down, I also know I could never own up to the ways I’ve tormented her. Blacklisting her from parties, not speaking up when my friends taunt her, or the girls I hook up with are bitchy and mean to her face. There was the time I let my friends fill her locker with condoms, or when I drove right past her on her street as she was waiting for the school bus, rain drenching her as she was sans umbrella. I hadn’t even stopped to offer her a ride. There was the annual Christmas Eve party my parents threw for all of our friends in town, when I laughed as Blair’s dress ripped in front of thirty of our schoolmates who were sneaking beers in my basement. I beaned her with a volleyball in gym class junior year, had my group of friends nominate her as a joke for homecoming queen, and schooled her ass in our AP history class last year in Jeopardy.
It’s been small things, nothing too terrible, but a thousand cuts to her that I know have wounded me just as badly. I’ve tried to break her down mentally as revenge for what she’d done to me, and I almost thought it was working.
Then she gave me that backtalk in the hallway today. Something in her has completely flipped, and it’s making me the insecure one.
Blair’s knockout body, the tan summer freckles on the bridge of her nose, and the way her hair smelled like marshmallow as she flipped it over her shoulder … it all engulfs me. As if her becoming extremely hot over summer break isn’t annoying enough, now I have to sit behind her in our AP government class. Where, might I add, she raises her hand and nails every question, even on the first fucking day.
My blood smolders in my veins. There is so much history and animosity between us, and yet I can’t help the attraction that has always burned inside me when it comes to her. Even before today, when I saw her in all of her new, hot glory. We’ve always had that spark. And for some inexplicable reason, she put it out before we could ever explore it.
I have my first warning shot planned for tomorrow, and I can’t wait to see her face.
A sick part of me enjoys torturing her. The other part, the part she cut out with a knife, burns with satisfaction.
I reminded her that she made us this way, and it’s my responsibility to keep reminding her that she’s the one who forced this outcome.
If I didn’t, I might break and let her see how much damage she’s really done. And that is unacceptable.
5
Blair
The agenda for the first class cabinet meeting of the year is laid out on the first row of seats, and more packets are piled on the front table.
To be honest, I know that half of these papers won’t be seen by human eyes, but Nate asked me to print off twenty of them, so I did. We’re lucky if we have ten people in these before-dawn meetings for the entire school year, but since it’s the first one we may get eleven, so we come prepared.
I’m still waiting for Nate to arrive, with my extra-large coffee in tow, and I see a few familiar faces in the front row of the music room. This room has been our “congressional chambers” for all intents and purposes over the last three years, and it feels like home to be back for one last go round. One last year of staying on our budget, planning out the school dances, organizing charity bake sales, and campaigning to bring back Taco Tuesday in the cafeteria.
This year, though, we’ll be picking the theme of the prom, and organizing everything having to do with the graduation ceremony. I know it’s not passing some law on immigration or allocating funding on a bill to unemployment, but in the grand scheme of high school, these were important decisions. It feels like something bigger than me to be involved in them, and that is something I am passionate about.
Nate walks in, and I don’t even greet him. My hands just reach for the steaming foam cup and I gulp, the liquid scalding my throat but that’s not something I even care about.
“Good morning to you, too. You know, you’re the only seventeen-year-old I know who ingests coffee like it’s beer they stole from their parents’ garage fridge. Like at any moment, someone will steal it out of your hands.”
“I’m here, aren’t I?” I grumble, taking another large swig of coffee.
Nate sets his backpack down behind the podium at the front of the room, the one he’ll stand behind to conduct the meeting. Then he removes a powdered sugar donut from a paper bag and takes a big bite, powdered sugar puffing up in front of his face.
“You have a muffin in there for me?” I eye him.
He reaches into the paper bag again and hands me a lemon poppyseed, rolling his eyes. “You’re like a grumpy, hungry zombie in the mornings.”
“Are you going to bring up the theme and present our ideas?” I ask, feeling semi-human as I chew on my first bite of the muffin.
Nate nods. “Been rehearsing it since last week in my mind. It’s going to be epic.”
Today’s big vote is the same one it’s always been on the first day of class cabinet meetings; we’re deciding on the Spirit Night theme. Each year, every grade comes up with an overarching theme that culminates in one epic pep rally of sorts at the end of the year. Spirit Night sees all the grades piled into the gym, competing for who is the best class in the school. There are relay races, a mural design competition, more activities in between, and then the dance. Each grade painstakingly choreographs a dance with whoever from that graduating class wants to participate. For instance, our junior year theme was Junior Jocks; the music in our dance consisted of a lot of the Space Jam soundtrack, “We Are the Champions” by Queen, and ended with “High Hopes” by Panic at the Disco.
There is a panel of judges, made up of teachers throughout the school, who vote in each category. At the end of Spirit Night, a winner is crowned, and that class gets ultimate bragging rights until the next all-school extravaganza.
It’s everyone’s favorite night of the year, and as seniors, there is a lot of pressure to come in first place. We’ve done so well, even as freshman when we placed second with our dance, and Nate and I have a plan of attack for sweeping the entire competition come June.