The rest of the weekend, Dastan had texted me and I had only sometimes texted back. Without being prompted, he had apologized for his abrasive behavior because he wasn’t used to someone critiquing the way he was. He did admit that he appreciated my honesty and meant to work on how he treated people despite having commentary of his own that he realized he should probably just keep to himself. I doubted that he would actually take that lesson to heart in order to change, but who knew? Other than that, he was surprisingly really cool and funny to have conversations with, but texting just…wasn’t my thing. Maybe that was because I was raised not to be totally involved with technology…but also maybe because I was busy on the phone with Kenneth most of the time and forgot to respond promptly.
Monday morning, I had gone to school early to find Dastan at his locker to give him his jacket. I spotted Dastan at his locker talking to Mickie and Chad, but I walked up to them anyways. Maybe our truce this weekend would extend to his whole friend group.
“Why the hell do you have that?” Mickie hissed at me. I guess the friendship wasn’t extended.
“I’m returning it,” I responded back to her. I looked up to Dastan who slightly looked away from me. “Here’s your—”
“My letterman,” he interrupted with cold eyes on me. He even snatched it away from me. “Do you think I have money to throw away?”
“What are you talking—”
“This jacket was $500, why the hell would I allow something this expensive be in your care?” he spat at me like he hated me. I don’t know what happened, but I had to choke back my emotions. We had grown into somewhat friends over this weekend and now he was accusing me of what? Clearly this truce had been limited to this weekend. I pressed my lips together and found Mickie and Dastan narrowing their eyes at me. Whatever they said, I missed.
“Thief,” Mickie named.
“I’m not a thief,” I said. I gestured to Dastan. “He gave it to me.”
“And you never gave it back,” Dastan added. Mickie shifted positions and looked to Dastan.
“Wait. You let her wear your jacket?” Mickie asked, raising her voice as if she wanted to make a scene, but the only people in the hallway were lowerclassmen that had no part in any of this. I would’ve guessed that Dastan would have a deer in the headlights look to Mickie, but instead he looked at her with dull eyes and then had seized her waist to place her against the lockers, all while I was busy wishing for my tears to dry—because I knew I couldn’t hold them in for long.
“Do you really think I’d let some girl wear that?” he whispered to her. “Especially someone that’s nowhere near being you.”
That’s when my breath went unsteady. Mickie had muttered something back to him and he pressed his lips to hers. I wasn’t jealous or mad. The only feeling I had right now was hurt.
He had been a normal, caring person for this entire weekend, but then when I get to school—officially putting aside our initial confrontation from my first day—he acts like an even bigger bastard. To act out enough to break our conversation to make out with someone who supposedly wasn’t and never was is was also telling.
***
I walked into second period right at the bell.
“Cutting it close, Angela,” Mrs. Hayes said from her desk.
“Sorry,” I mumbled and took my seat at my actual desk instead of at the dozen of Mac computers stationed around the room. Cheyenne sat to my right, not too busy texting on her phone to notice.
“You know I have a car. I could’ve driven you to school,” Cheyenne said to me when she finished her message and I just preoccupied myself with finding work from another class.
“I walked,” I mumbled.
“Well it’s getting a little bit chilly for that so—are you okay?” she asked. I looked over to her, hoping my face wasn’t as puffy as before. I hadn’t spent thirty minutes in the bathroom ugly-crying, but a few tears had slipped out.
“Yeah,” I lied. I was nowhere near okay in actuality.
“Cheyenne, I’m pretty sure you and Mickie have not finished your project so it’d be wise to spend this last week working on it,” Mrs. Hayes suggested. Cheyenne looked up to her.
“Well when you pry her away from her one-sided relationship with Vega, then maybe I’d get right on that,” Cheyenne retorted but then she was confused with her own direct sarcasm. I was just impressed that she said something the rest of the student body thought without being scared of social suicide. Suddenly Mickie appeared at her desk.
“What did you just say?” Mickie hissed.
“Nothing! Nothing…” she quickly covered and then got up with her fashion pad and scurried to a computer…of course the one next to Dastan. Mrs. Hayes looked down to me, but not in a way that pressured me to go work with Dastan.
“As for your article—”
“I know—” It sucked? We should work more on it? You’re going to switch us out with someone else who we can probably work better with?
“—it was quite interesting, although I’m sorry Mr. Vega wasn’t able to assist you in any way aside from turning it in,” she finished.
“Wait, what?”
She frowned at my confusing.
“He emailed me the final and then said that you were the only one that really worked on it,” she explained. What? “He asked to give you full credit. I’m a little disappointed that you two couldn’t compromise to produce a piece together though.”
“Mmh…” was all I could hum. I let her leave my desk (more so because there was a teacher waiting for her by the door) and then I walked over to Dastan. I was fed up.
“Why are you doing this to me?” I asked him with closed teeth. The lying. The tyranny. The cyclic false hope that he was for once a nice person. However, he kept his eyes locked on the computer screen. “Dastan, I’m talking to you.”
Oh I see. He was ignoring me. Well then fine. Two could play at that game and no one would be suffering from it. I stalked back to my desk and started to do whatever I could to ensure that I wouldn’t subject myself into smacking Dastan or even Mickie. As soon as the bell rang, Cheyenne touched my arm.
“Do you need to talk?” she asked me, concerned.
“She needs to get the hell out of here,” Mickie scoffed, walking right between me and Cheyenne. I saw how I wasn’t wanted here, so I did as everyone wished and left. I walked right past precalculus in a B-line for the school’s exit. Only, someone caught me around the waist.
“Hey beautiful,” Hayden smiled. I looked past him, politely removing his hold, but then he only grasped me slightly tighter and frowned. “Don’t you have precal this period?”
“I’m not in the mood, so…” I started to move but knew my strength was far weaker than Hayden’s.
“You’re running away from something,” he immediately realized. I kept my line of sight away from him. “And I bet you anything that that something isn’t even going to stay in your next class.”
I looked up at him and his eyes twinkled as if he knew I was upset from Dastan.
“Don’t let Vega get you so mad, Angela,” he whispered.
“Easy for you to say. You’ve known and put up with him for forever,” I scoffed, rolling my eyes. I didn’t understand them. They insisted they weren’t friends or acquaintances, but I (and the entire school) could swear to see them together pretty much whenever it was possible.
The minute bell rang and I still wanted to leave campus. Hayden started to loosen his grip, but his hand slid to my wrist. In silence (other than him telling everyone to move out of our way), he towed me to my precalculus room and I immediately saw Dastan sitting in his seat for once. I abruptly tried to turn back, but Hayden kept me there. He nudged me into the room and I looked back, worried at him. The last bell rang and he still stayed by the door to ensure that I’d sit in my seat. “Oh and Angela?”
“Hmm?” I asked, with absolutely no confidence at all.
“I haven’t known him for forever…and even if I did, I wouldn’t put up with him,” he winked. I slightly grinned depite being unconvinced and turned to take my seat. I was sure to keep my eyes away from Dastan, no matter how deep the holes in my back were from his intense glare. Thankfully, the glare vanished when he skipped out of the class after ten minutes, just as Hayden guessed.