SEUNG TAGS ME IN THE hall. I pick up speed and lose him at the turn.
I’m already dodging Mr. George, or at least prolonging our meeting. Mr. George said we needed to talk about why my name came up in response to that article, but I told him I needed to speak with someone else first. I patted Mr. George’s hand and told him not to worry. This isn’t my story to share, and it’s unfair to Bea for me to share anything. And now Seung demands answers, too, but for more personal reasons.
I go left. Seung darts right. “Linden!” he shouts.
“Seung!” a voice calls from down the hall.
It echoes again. “Seung. Seung.”
I turn and see Bea, waving her arm. Seung stops, pivots, and plunges into a chemistry classroom. He has trig. Bea turns around, her nose pointing at her ballet flats. When the crowd clears, I charge after her.
“Bea!” I shout.
She looks over. Her eyes are wet. She starts to shuffle away.
“Bea?”
“Not now,” she snaps.
“Please. Now,” I beg.
I watch as Seung bounces out of the wrong classroom and scoots along the wall toward trigonometry. He glances over his shoulder, sees Bea, and picks up speed. Basically, Seung’s walking faster than he drives. Bea watches me lose interest in her and whips back around. As soon as she sees Seung, she sprints after him, shouting his name.
“Need to talk!” I yell after her. “Mr. George has questions.”
She turns the corner and I pound the locker with my heel. My foot slips on paper, and when I look at the ground, there’s another ten-dollar bill stuck to my shoe. I check to see if anyone is watching, then stuff the money into my pocket and race to class.
The beginning of first period is full of whispers.
I notice right away that Reed is absent. I also see that Bea didn’t make it to class. I wonder if she found Seung. I wonder if he’s hiding in the restroom, knees tucked to his chest on a toilet seat, while Bea calls his name.
Kristen races into the classroom and jabs my shoulder with her pencil. “Ohmygod, Linden,” she says while whisking by me. “Whatthehellishappening? Whatthehelliswrong?”
I hold up my hands. “It’s not what you think,” I whisper. “Just stay away from the comments.”
Shoulder jabs continue. First from Jarrell. Then from Toby.
Only Jarrell is gentle when he taps my back with his finger. He says, “Do you want me to walk you to your next class?” He motions to the students with cupped hands, whispering my name. They wonder how and why I’m singlehandedly taking down their hometown hero. I shake my head, and Jarrell shrugs his shoulders and smiles. He says, “Can you tell me how Ham’s doing? He hasn’t returned my calls.”
Toby taps my shoulder hard, then pounds his fist on my desk. “Is this a sick joke, Linden? You’re fucking with Bea on purpose?”
I exhale and turn toward T.P. I jump when I’m met with a giant ball of fire. “Holy shit! What, uh, what the hell happened to you?” In the light of day, his face is striped like candy corn. White forehead, bright orange face, yellowish chin.
Toby glares, but his beady eyes don’t strike the fear they once did. How could they? They’re missing outlines, punctuation, or as most people call them, eyebrows. His hair, or at least what’s left on his head, is neon, and even his neck looks sun kissed.
“You know what happened,” Toby says with a grunt. And I do, somewhat, but Ham’s going to need to fill in a few details. Like how he was able to shave the initials T.P. above Toby’s browline.
Mr. Dique taps the board with his pointer as a cue to sit down, shut up. I decide to do the opposite. I stand and say, “Mr. D., I have to go. Mr. George needs me.” I don’t wait for his answer. I’m too busy racing for the door.
I slip into the vacant newsroom, ready to process my thoughts, alone. I don’t know what to do, or if I should do anything at all. So what if people think I’m the girl Reed hurt? The truth causes me no pain. The lies hurt her more.
Seung barges through the door, shouting, “Bea won’t leave me alone. I can’t take it anymore, Linden! I’m a hot-girl magnet and I can only handle one hot girl at a time.”
Seung swings his backpack into a chair, on the other side of the room, and continues his rant. “I can’t handle this, Linden. Bea’s everywhere I look. And it tears me in half because I know she needs a friend. I’m just not the right guy for the job.” Seung holds his hand to his chest. “Besides, I have you to worry about. I don’t have time to care for Bea. She has a boyfriend. A rather big, Cyclops-ish boyfriend who’s been dipped in orange dye thanks to Ham and his revenge plot. And don’t even get me started on that psychotic, poetry-puking ex-boyfriend—”
I interrupt Seung. “What about ‘time to stand up and fight’? Isn’t that what you proclaimed after T.P. tried to run you over? Destroy your enemy and make them your friend? What about Seung Freaking 2.0?”
Seung rolls his eyes, his head. He mumbles, “What about Seung?” He spins around on his heel, saying, “Linden? I said I have you to worry about. I’ve always had you to worry about.”
I swallow, knowing what’s coming next.
Seung frowns. “Why do you carry so much shit in your backpack?”
Now it’s my turn to roll my eyes, head, everything.
I clench my teeth and the word “preparedness” pushes its way out. I clamp my mouth shut before another lie slips and slithers. Lying to Seung makes me weak. And while there’s an assumption that homelessness falls upon the weak, it is not for the weak, or the unprepared.
“What are you preparing for, Linden? End of days?” Seung’s eyes smile but there’s something in them, a flicker, a flash, a snapshot of this moment that prevents me from smiling back.
I turn around in my chair and stare into the blank computer screen. Seung exhales and I shut my eyes. I refuse to say anything for fear it will come out as a lie. I’m sick of lying, hiding, withholding the truth.
Seung deserves better. He deserves the truth.
The truth that will set me free, piss him off, or maybe both.
I want to share my past with Seung. Tell him about my mother. That a monster killed her, because he wanted to and could. My head tells me my past is irrelevant to my future, that it merely paved the way. But I feel it gripping my ankles and dragging me behind with every step I take. I shouldn’t be afraid. My past made me who I am today. But the fear of losing my future to my past terrifies me.
“No comment?” Seung pushes.
No words escape. They’re huddled in the corner, shivering, shaking, afraid to crawl out.
Seung sighs. “Being truthful won’t get you a lot of friends, Linden, but it will always get you those who matter most.”
I wait for my tears to draw lines on my face. When I turn around, he’s gone.
The one who matters most.