putting this up for madi

Chapter 6: Spring 2023

Despite the Max incident being nearly four years ago, I still find myself having trouble being around him outside of school. Sure, we’re friendly in passing when we’re in the hallways, but every time I look at him I still remember that pained look on his face, and the way he wouldn’t look at me for months after that. The way he’d avoid me, leaving a room the instant I’d step into it. It’s painful, and even though I know four years have passed and we’re both over it, I still try to give him his space. And since Jamie and Max share a bedroom, their parents one attempt at making the boys get along, it makes hanging out with Jamie more difficult. It wasn’t a problem at first, back when Max and Jeremy would spend all of their time at Jeremy’s house to play Halo, but then his little sister Charlie got old enough to develop a weird liking to being in the same room with them, so they relocated to here, in the boys’ shared bedroom. We pretended nothing was wrong for awhile, just opting to ignore each other, but it was hard for me to get into talking to Jamie when Max was in the room. Especially since most of our conversations these days involved Jamie’s love of Bronx, and my ever growing crush on Preston.

So we’d relocated to my house, a quieter place since I have no siblings, but it wasn’t exactly the ideal location for anyone to hang out. In fact, I hated bringing Jamie here. My parents are in a constant state of intoxication, and they are always yelling at each other. At first, this was merely at night, a problem I could easily fix with headphones blasting through my ears while I slept, but now they’re drunk during the day, too. It’s embarrassing, and I try to pretend that I don’t hear it, and luckily Jamie does too. He, better than anyone else, understands how much I hate it, how much I hate them. And frequently, he’ll pull me into a tight hug and remind me that it’s going to be okay. Other than my parents, my room isn’t a bad place to hang out. It’s just as large as Jamie’s room, but there’s more space since I don’t share with anyone. My bed is big enough for several people to sit on, and it’s on the opposite side of the house from where my parents are.

Today, Jamie is sprawled across my bed, his chin resting on his laptop while I’m working on homework at my desk. He keeps telling me that he’s working on homework too, but I don’t believe him for a second. Most likely, he’s browsing the internet. Or more specifically, Bronx’s Facebook page, looking for any clue that his relationship with Preston would be coming to an end. I keep laughing at him, telling him not to get his hopes up, but he’s consistently checking. He’s convinced that he’s going to find something, any day now, but he’s been telling me this for months. Either he’s reading wall posts looking for clues, or he’s looking through Bronx’s pictures and lusting over him. I’ll admit, sometimes at night when I can’t sleep I find myself browsing through Preston’s pictures, or reading the wall posts he’s left for me, which usually only include him informing me that he has a cd for me to listen to, or a movie he wants me to borrow. More frequently, I look at the few pictures there are of me and him, where we look intensely awkward while we hug, or he is making fun of me and Delaney happened to snap the camera at us.

Jamie’s quiet for a long time, and I’ve just settled into the treacherous work that is Algebra, when he suddenly squeals. It’s a high pitched squeal, and after a few seconds he reaches a point that I’m positive only dogs can hear. I look at him, utterly confused, but he jumps up, grabbing my arm and yanking me onto the bed.

“What the hell is your problem,” I laugh, but he points at the screen, his squealing stopping so he can catch his breath. He’s gripping my arms so tight, and I don’t when I saw him this excited last was. But then I see it, in clear letters on Jamie’s Facebook homepage, that Bronx and Preston have ended their relationship. I feel the breath catch in my throat. Unlike Jamie, I don’t scream or squeal, instead getting butterflies in my stomach. They flutter around, stealing my breath, and I think this is the first time I’ve ever had hope that I might, just maybe, get a chance with Preston. I only get a few glimpses at the screen before Jamie shuts his laptop, and I watch the bright Apple logo go dim. I know what he’s thinking, that he wants to go talk to Bronx, to console him. To distract him from even the possibility of him getting back together with Preston. We planned this a long time ago, a joke originally, and it turned into Jamie’s game plan.

“I gotta go,” He says, a huge smile on his face. I have never, ever seen him so excited. He leans down, planting a kiss on my cheek. He grips my hand for a moment, looking me straight in the eyes. “You going to Preston?”

I think about it for a bit. But there’s one thing I know about Preston, and that’s that he doesn’t really like to feel pressured into anything. I shake my head, smiling at him. “No,” I say, handing Jamie his laptop. I watch him stuff it into his bag. “I think I’ll wait it out, give it a few days so it doesn’t look like we planned this.”

“We did plan this,” He chuckles, but nods as he slings his bag over his shoulder. He picks up his cell phone off my bed, no doubt sending Bronx a message. I imagine it to sound sympathetic, and to inform him that he’s coming over and that they could talk about it. I can’t help but chuckle, not because the situation itself is funny, but because I know Jamie is going to succeed. I’ve seen the way Bronx looks at Jamie when Preston isn’t looking, and I know that Bronx can’t resist it when someone is practically throwing themselves at him.

“Good luck, J. Call me later and let me know how it goes,” I smile, watching him go. I lay back on my bed, opening my own laptop. When my Facebook page finally loads, I click on Preston’s profile. It shows him with his arms tight around Bronx’s waist. He’s smiling big, and he looks absolutely ecstatic to be there, standing next to Bronx. I smile and do what I always do, I close my eyes and pretend that it’s me in the picture instead of Bronx. Only this time, it’s different because it has the possibility of being true.