How It'd Go

Summer was over, and so were we.

I knew it was true, but I didn't want to believe it.

So, instead, I imagined how tomorrow would go.

School would begin in the morning, and I'd walk into the halls, a fake smile plastered on my face as you confidently strode past, mid-laugh as your friends made some stupid joke that objectively wasn't funny at all, laughing only to hide the way you longed for me still.

I'd make my way to class while you stood by your locker, catching up with Paul Whatshisname, and we'd make eye contact again.

I'd see the way your eyes hardened, your jaw clenched, and your fingers twitched.

You'd see the way my entire expression fell, my smile faltering as I saw you.

My best friend Anne - you may think I shouldn't have to remind you of her name, but you never cared about who I hung out with, did you? - would gently tug me away from you, muttering under her breath about how you aren't worth it, and I'd follow, fighting every niggling urge to turn around, remind myself that you were still there.

We'd look at our assigned seats - next to each other, always next to each other - and then at each other, unsure of who would be the one to call for the teacher, to tell her "actually, we broke up", the one to cause a scene about being too close.

We'd pointedly ignore each other all class, pretending the other doesn't exist, while talking just loud enough to be overheard about how we're seniors, we shouldn't need assigned seating anymore.

When lunch came, I'd sit beside Anne while you looked over at me. Your stupid, smug grin would fall, being replaced by a look I used to be able to read, but would only see as impassive in the wake of our falling out.

You'd avoid our table, walking around the outskirts of the lunchroom instead, sitting beside the boys who you never liked before because of how they treated me.

I'd watch you, acting like my heart wasn't breaking every time your gaze slid over to me and snapped right back to the jerks you surrounded yourself with.

Lunch would end, and we'd look at each other one more time before I followed Anne out, and you turned back to your friends.

The day would finish, and we'd both be silently thanking every deity we could think of that we had no other classes together.

I'd see her, and I'd punch her in the face, a sharp left hook leaving her gasping, blood dripping from her nose as she scowled, tackling me to the ground.

I'd let her get in a few hits, just because she was my friend once, before beating her up.

You'd run over at the commotion, turn to me, and pull me against you, glaring at her while warning her to never speak to me again.

She'd spit at us both, hiss about how you'd come to your senses one day, and storm off, blood dripping behind her.

You'd brush the hair out of my face, whisper about how sorry you were, how you'd never do something like that again, and take me to the courtyard, where we'd sit under the tree we had our first kiss beneath.

You'd gently clean my wounds, pressing soft lips to rough skin, convinced a kiss would heal the damage you had caused.

Helen would walk past, flip her hair, and pretend like I hadn't broken her nose.

We'd smile at each other like we'd never fought a day in our lives, and the past twenty-four hours would be forgotten.

We'd be each other's again, because summer was over, but we were not.

That's not how it went down though.

I knew it was wishful thinking, yet I hoped with every part of me that it would happen that way.

Instead, I walked into school, hair hiding my face because even makeup did nothing to disguise the fact I was obviously up until midnight crying.

You did walk past, laughing with friends, but she was by your side, hand in yours while she giggled along at a joke that was, unfortunately, quite amusing.

I slowly walked to class, hugging myself as you stood by her locker, arms around her as she leaned against you. Paul stood nearby, and the two of you chatted like you'd never stop talking.

I couldn't look away, and you looked at me. Our eyes met, and instead of hardening to protect yourself, you gave me that lopsided smile and waved.

I turned away.

Anne looked between us, and after a minute, slid right past me to go to Helen's side, whispering assurances that I was just overreacting.

Your eyes did harden at that, but you said nothing, just tugged Helen closer.

Our seats were nowhere near each other, because, for the first time in four years, we had a teacher who didn't arrange us by last names.

I sat beside Helen, angling myself away from her while you watched her with hearts in your eyes.

"Susan," she whispered, leaning in, and I flinched. "I-"

"Helen," our teacher said sharply. "I'm talking."

Mumbling an apology, Helen gave me a concerned look and turned back to the front.

When lunch came, I sat by myself, watching Anne and Helen sit with you and Paul. I poked at my sandwich, no more hungry than I was happy. I couldn't bring myself to tear my gaze away from you two.

You looked so happy, and I... I don't think you ever looked that way with me.

You caught me looking, and I saw you tilt your head, confused.

I got up and went to eat my lunch elsewhere.

Every class I had, you were there, several seats away, grinning and laughing, and not sparing me a thought.

When the day ended, Helen grabbed my wrist.

I jerked away, and she frowned.

"Susan, I'm so sorry," she said quickly, her words barely above a whisper. "I- he told me you guys had already broken up, and-"

"We did," I said, my voice level even as my hands shook. "We were broken up for all of three hours before he went to you."

Helen's face fell, and she looked over her shoulder at you. "I thought it had been longer. I meant to tell you, ask if it was okay, but it was so sudden."

"It's fine," I lied. "You guys are cute together." And I meant it.

"I'm an awful friend," she realized, and I patted her awkwardly on the shoulder.

"We can still be friends," I promised, even as I knew I'd hate myself for saying it later.

"Really?"

"Really."

And she left, and I went to our tree myself, sitting beneath it and reminding myself it was my decision to end things, and I had to.

Summer was over, and so we had to be over too.