Cracked Up To Be

He opens his eyes. We're back where we started.



"Sure."



We dance. He wraps his arms around me and our foreheads touch and I decide this is the nice moment; this is what I'm allowed to have. I like the way he feels next to me, and if I were someone else I could be his girlfriend. And then I pretend to be her and tomorrow doesn't worry me; two weeks from now doesn't worry me. Everything is fine.



And then the dance ends.



When I get home, I realize the bracelet is gone. I imagine it slipping off my wrist in Chris's car, in the lab, on the dance floor, on the ride back.



I cut off my hair.



SEVENTEEN



Evan steps into the entrance corridor like a ghost.



People pass him without a backward glance, none of them aware of this new old addition to the halls of St. Peter's High. I watch--from a safe distance, of course--as he takes the school in like he's never seen it in his life. His hair is short, clean-cut like before, like Chris said it would be, but he's done nothing for his weight.



Leave.



I think it as hard as I can, but Evan's skull is so thick it'll probably never get through. Still. Leave. You're not wanted here.



I do not want you here.



My chest gets tight and I try to focus on all those techniques on the paper Jake gave me, but it doesn't work because I don't remember them, and besides, they'd never work. When my hands start shaking, I know I have to get away. I give Evan one last look and head in the opposite direction. So I can't be around him at all; that's fine. St. Peter's is a big school. I could avoid him easily for the next few... months.



The bottle in my locker is begging me to open it.



But I want to graduate. I want to graduate.



"I want to graduate."



I don't mean to say it out loud.



"What?" Jake looks up from our landscape. "What did you say?"



"I want to graduate. It's my new mantra."



"Oh." He turns back to the paper.



"No congratulations? It's a very positive mantra for me."



"Nope."



Things you can't do with someone without fucking up the weird enough relationship you already have:



1. Almost have sex with them in the school's science lab.



2. Give yourself a really bad haircut?



Actually, I'm not sure the haircut has anything to do with it. He hasn't said a word about it. Chris freaked, Becky laughed--she's finally better looking than I am--but Jake, Jake was quiet. He's been quiet. I can't even pretend to know what he's thinking about now and I hate that. It messes me up.



"Fadley! Gardner! In the name of our Lord Jesus Christ, when are you going to start painting that thing?"



I jump. Norton got us from behind. I turn and give him my sweetest smile, but he only raises one very unimpressed eyebrow at me. I think my haircut has actually compromised the manipulative properties of my face.



"You of all people should know real art can't be rushed, Mr. Norton," I say.



"If that is real art, Fadley," Norton says, nodding at our paper, "then please direct me to that ravine so I can throw myself into it."



Jake stares determinedly at our landscape. It's not that bad. "Art is subjective," I remind Norton.



"That it is, Fadley. Nevertheless, I suggest you get a move on. Your landscapes are due at the end of this week."



The room explodes. This is news to everyone. Jake's mouth drops open and several students make a mad scurry to the supply cabinet to get more paint. I ignore the voice in my head telling me to vomit. I want to graduate. I want to graduate. I want to graduate. Or else I'll be stuck here forever.



"Oh my!" Norton looks around the room in mock surprise and genuine delight. Old bastard. "Did I forget to tell all of you?"



"Okay, that's it," Jake says. "We need a plan and we need it now."



"I can't think," I say. I really can't. What if this is it? What if this is the stupid thing that keeps me from graduating? Unity, disparity. Unity. My fingers start tingling. I press my hands flat on the desk. Don't think about it.



"Come on, Parker," Jake says desperately. "Give me something, anything."



"Jake, shut up. I can't--"



"Why am I not surprised?" he snaps.



He wanders to the back for the paint, returning with five or six different colors, but by the time the period ends, neither of us has attempted a start.



I zombie-walk to the gym, completely forgetting about the chapel, and when I get there the cheerleaders are preparing to practice and Evan is preparing to play basketball and everyone sees me come in, so I can't leave.



Chris walks over.



"How did you get here?"



"I walked," I murmur, staring past him. I can't lose sight. I have to fix it.



"Come on; let's get you back inside. You can crash in my room."



"No--" I blink and Jessie and the guy she's with have gone. Disappeared. They were by the pool and now they're not and I haven't fixed it. I turn to Chris. "Where did they--where did they go?"



"Where did who go?"



"They--" And then this song starts up, really loud. I can't think. If I can't think, I can't find Jessie; I can't fix it. I have to find Jessie. "Chris, this music makes me feel like, it's like--"



He laughs.



"Okay, when you start talking about how the music makes you feel, maybe it's time for you to go to bed. Come on, Parker."



He tries to force me toward the house, but I jerk away.



"You're not listening to me! Just listen to me--"



"Okay, just--it's okay." But he's patronizing me. He has this stupid patronizing, condescending voice on and he thinks I'm too drunk to hear it.



"Where are--"



And that's when she reappears, that strange guy beside her. No. A different guy. I relax. They start dancing and she stands on her tiptoes and kisses him, this new guy, and my stomach turns because I did this.



Evan removes himself from the basketball game before it really starts. He jogs across the gym, to the bleachers where I'm sitting, and the vice around my heart gets tighter and tighter, but I think I'll be okay as long as I focus solely on breathing. But if he starts talking to me I'm worried I won't be able to talk back and breathe at the same time.



"Hi, Parker," he says, sitting beside me. "I've been hoping to talk to you."



Inhale. "Oh?" Exhale.



Okay, maybe I can do this after all.



"Yeah. We haven't really talked. So, I mean..." He shrugs selfconsciously. "Like, how are you? How've you been?"



Inhale. "You're missing the basketball game." Exhale.



"Not really. I'm so out of shape, passing the ball takes up most of my energy. Two minutes in and I'm on my third wind." He cracks a smile. I edge away, but he doesn't notice. "Not much changes at St. Peter's, huh? I mean it's like I never left."



"I wouldn't say that."



"Oh." That doesn't slip past him. "Okay."



"Yeah."



Oh, right--inhale. Exhale. I clench my hands into fists and glance down the court. Chris and Jake are involved in the game, but every so often one of them looks my way.



Call Evan back. Call him back and get him away from me.



"Man, I was hoping it wouldn't be like this," he says. "I wanted to talk to you."



I close my eyes.



"I have nothing to say to you, Evan."



"Hey, Parker!"



I open my eyes. Becky's staring at me expectantly, arms crossed. I can't even begin to imagine what she could possibly want with me.



"What?"



"Would you come down here and stand in place for Ellie? She's sick and I want to see the formation from the front without a big gaping hole in it. You don't have to do anything, just stand there."



"Sure."



I jump up and jog over to the squad. The girls are already in formation. I take a quick look back and Evan's where I left him, staring at me. I don't like that.



"Where do you want me?" I ask Becky.



"Over there, between Sarah and Hannah," she says, pointing. "Are you okay?"



The girls stare at us, awaiting instruction. Robots.



"Why?"



"You look weird." She smiles. "And not just because of the hair."



I wipe my palms on my skirt. Block it out. He's not there.



"As former captain, I'm trying to get over my disgust that you can't use your imagination to pretend Ellie's in her usual spot," I say. A couple girls gasp. "I did that for all of those practices you managed not to show up for."



Becky scowls. "Are you going to help me or not?"



"Oh, I'm not helping you, Becky. I'm here for my own amusement."



With that, I flounce into Ellie's spot, and Becky climbs a little way up the bleachers to inspect us.



"Okay, it's good," she shouts. "Parker, stay there. The rest of you show me what victory looks like!"



The girls stretch their arms into the V. Evan's still looking at me. I want him to stop. They move onto the I. I glance down the court again.



Come on, Chris. Call Evan back.



Make him stop.



I pull at my collar. It's hot in this gym; it's--T. O. I realize I'm not breathing again. I'm not breathing and it's hot. The scene turns to mush. I try to blink it back into focus. The girls are moving in slow motion but not really, but they are standing too close and if Evan doesn't stop staring at me I'll--



"Somebody get Henley or something."



I don't want to open my eyes.



"Just wait. Parker? Can you hear me? Parker?"



I am not going to open my eyes. I'm going to lie on the court until I die, and I hope that happens soon, because I want to die.



"Okay, someone get Henley."



After a minute, I open my eyes. Chris notices first.



"Hey," he says.