Chrissy practically ran Jason over as she exited the library. He was walking casually down the hallway, his lettermen jacket blending in with the background of green lockers like he was in a clothing ad for teens. He looked just as surprised to see her. They were almost a half-hour into class. He should be in Mr. Dunkin's history class. Either way, she quickly swallowed her tears she tried to smile

"Where are you heading so fast?" He asked. If he noticed she was upset he didn't let on. He flung an arm around her shoulders and continued to walk down the hall. Just then she noticed Tiffany was there too, walking slowly behind them. Was she hoping Chrissy wouldn't notice her? She spun around and out from under Jason's arm

"What are you doing?" She asked, trying to sound breezy and not accusatory but she was afraid that was exactly what she sounded like.

"Umm," Tiffany answered vaguely, busying herself with the zipper of her windbreaker. She looked at everything but Chrissy and more suspiciously Jason. "Nothing. Just going to class."

"Together?" She knew their schedules. Knew they didn't share this hour's class.

"Did you get done with tutoring early?" Jason asked, instead of answering, peering back through the closed library doors. Even if he stepped into the library he wouldn't be able to see where Chrissy and Eddie usually sat. She only hoped Eddie wasn't leaving the library right this second as Jason was right there. There wasn't anything going on between her and Eddie. She didn't want to have to explain that to Jason.

She wasn't sure how she managed to keep exactly who she was tutoring from Jason for so long. He never asked and she didn't offer up the information and apparently no one had told him. "Yeah, we finished early."

"I've got to get to class," Tiffany said, abruptly. "See ya' later." And she took off down the hall. Her short skirt swayed as she did, her long blonde hair expertly french braided.

"Do you think she's been acting weird?" Chrissy asked, mostly to see how Jason would react to her question.

He only rolled a shoulder, acting as though he didn't care. "Hell if I know."

They walked a few more feet to her locker and she looked Jason over. He was flushed, his hair slightly messed. His neck was red and a circular spot of broken skin was near his collarbone. "What's going on?" She asked. "Where were you two at?"

He didn't answer right away and blinked innocently at her. "I don't think I like what you're implying here."

"I'm not implying anything." She hated the way her voice got smaller when a confrontation seemed inevitable. She hated confrontation and tried to avoid it at any cost but she didn't like how her senses were firing off like fireworks on the fourth of July.

"Listen," Jason said, glancing at his watch, the black plastic Casio watch she'd gotten him for Christmas, irritated she was questioning him "I got to go. I don't have time to stand around here and listen to you accuse me of shit I didn't do."

She pressed her lips together, mollified. Defeated. She let him go. She didn't have the energy to stop him. What worried her most is that she didn't really care.


Chrissy didn't see Eddie after that. They didn't have any classes together and he wasn't at lunch. She guessed he must have skipped. She didn't see him the next day or the day after that. A few days later though, she found the sweater she'd forgotten in the library when she stormed off hanging in her locker. Had he had it this whole time? It made the lump in her throat return. She was being too sensitive, she admonished herself. Eddie wasn't the type to hang on to a girl's sweater and, do what with it? Pine over her. No way.

Ever-present guilt kicked up a notch and washed through her like a flash flood. She shouldn't have said what she said to him, it wasn't her business if he graduates or not. He wasn't her boyfriend. She was his tutor. Nothing more.

Just the same, she made sure to be early to the library the following Monday, hoping he'd show up for their tutoring hour. The clock ticked by, she pretended to study, still no Eddie. His rebuff hurt her in a different way than any of Jason's antics did. She couldn't figure out why that was. She hardly knew him, didn't even know his middle name. Yet she felt she did know him. And what she didn't know, she wanted to know.

The rest of the day the ache in her chest grew, gnawing at her heart. She was tired of having to pretend she was normal, happy, cheerleader Chrissy. Having to pretend everything was okay was exhausting. When she walked into the locker room to get ready for cheer practice, one of the last of the season, she found she just could not do it. It was more than she could deal with - jumping around, yelling, seeing Tiffany and that dupper's delight shit-eating grin she saved just for Chrissy. She slipped out the back before she could be noticed, only telling Coach she wasn't feeling well. It wasn't exactly a lie. She did feel horrible.

Once home, she went straight to her room, hoping to sleep the rest of the evening. She put on Eddie's sweatshirt and was about to climb into bed when she noticed an envelope on her pillow. Her mother must have left there for her. The return label read Michigan State University. It was a small, normal-sized envelope. That was never a good thing. You wanted big, fat envelopes from the college you wanted to attend.

Taking the envelope in her hands, she slowly slid to the floor, her back leaning against the bed. This is what she'd been working for the last two years, even longer - she'd always been working towards excellence. Busting her ass… for, she allowed herself to admit finally at that moment, someone else's dream.

She debated not opening it all. There wasn't good news inside. Curiosity killed the cat, as they say, and she tore off the tab of the envelope and removed the folded letter, swallowing the lump in her throat that persisted since she left Eddie in the library last week.

Dear Ms. Cunningham, the letter began. We regret to inform you that your scholarship has been denied. If you would like to apply again... She didn't finish reading the letter. Tears flowed from her eyes, a sob rose from her chest- a physical visceral sensation.

Quickly she sucked the emotion back in. She did not want to cry. Crying did nothing. Instead, anger took over. Instead, rage pitted her stomach.

She looked around her, at the light pink walls. Posters stuck to the walls with scotch tape. On the desk that doubled as a vanity, her makeup spread out over the worn smooth wood. Photos were slid into the space between its mirror and the wood frame. Pictures of her and Jason. She and Tiffany. The group photo of the cheer team that was used for the yearbook. Her pom-poms were tossed in the corner. The dress she had bought for an upcoming dance was hung by a hanger on the back of her door.

A MSU poster was on the wall by her bed where she could look at it when she lay on her side. Her book bag mocked her from its spot on the desk chair, unzipped and open like a gaping mouth. Time to do your homework, it told her. Her rebuke was why fucking bother. It felt like one big lie. Did she even like the color pink? Did she even like Jason, or Tiffany, or cheerleading? Did she even like herself?

Wadding up the letter in her fist she got to her feet and left her room, no longer able to take in the sight of her own complacency in her own life. Leaving the house altogether, unsure where she was heading.


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