I Am Me by Kai Strand

Author:Kai Strand [Strand, Kai]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Kai Strand
Published: 2018-08-21T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 18

“Hey, ice cream after school?” Jay leans against my car, one foot crossed in front of the other, arms crossed over his chest, like he’s been waiting there for a while.

I look around as if someone will tell me exactly how long. “What are you doing out here?”

“If I didn’t know better I’d think you’ve been avoiding me.”

I rummage through my book bag, even though I don’t need anything out of it. “Why would you think that?

“I know you’ve been…uh, busy,” Jay says, pushing to a stand and shoving his hands in his pants pockets. “You know, with Cyn. I thought maybe a couple hour reprieve might be in order.”

My temper flares. Did he think I was Cyn’s babysitter? Did he think she was suddenly a burden to me? That tenuous strand of thought that told me to be nice to Jay, to avoid the possibility of hurting him if he was nursing a crush, snaps. “No, Jay, there is no need for a reprieve. First of all, Cyn is my best friend, not my ward. I spend as much time with her as I’m allowed because I care. Second, you waiting for me out here at my car feels a lot like you’re stalking me. Friends don’t do that. And that’s what we are. Or were. If your feelings have changed, maybe we should skip the newspaper article altogether.”

Jay’s expression is a mixture of anger and embarrassment. Guilt blooms inside me, but I quickly squash it. Meeting me in the parking lot and bringing the situation with Cyn into it is divisive. What a jerk.

“Maybe we should.” Jay stalks away.

My insides shake like a mass of gelatin as I watch him storm across the parking lot. I quiver with anger, at him as well as at myself for being afraid to stand up to him in the first place. I let it go on too long. Sliding into the driver’s seat, I lock the doors, even though I don’t actually expect Jay to run back and pull me out of my car or anything. I just feel so vulnerable.

But I did it. I finally told him how I feel. I’m sorry I was mean. Yet what a relief it is to know there’s no longer any question. I wish I had Rod’s phone number, so I could text him. Tell him I finally took his advice and he was right.

That stops me short. The residual panic and anger sours into sadness. Rod hasn’t been back to the construction site since the day we argued, nearly three weeks ago. Though part of me thinks it’s cowardly of him, the bigger part of me misses him. The work isn’t as fun or fulfilling without him there.

My phone vibrates, bringing me back to reality. A text from Rome. A picture of a cardboard box filled with nachos with the caption College diet. I smile, snap a picture of my car keys, still clutched in my hand and send it with the caption.

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