“What Happens After You Confess Your Feelings to Someone?” Chapter 2 (Sample)
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CHAPTER 2
I don’t ever talk to Mordecai at school. We’re not officially school friends. We’re talk-on-the-phone-and-IM friends. And, anyway, whenever I see him at school, he’s usually with his girlfriend. It’s terrible, I know, but when I talk to him at a distance, it’s easier for me to forget he has a girlfriend.
I promise I’m not trying to steal him from her. I just like having him as a friend. I like talking to him. I like hearing his voice. I like the way he teases me and makes me tell him my secrets. But most of all, I like him—I love him, actually. I just can’t understand why he doesn’t feel the same way about me.
Mordecai is two years older than me, though he’s only one grade above me. I started school early. And because I’m taking the same math as him, sometimes I help him with his math homework. This year we’re both taking precalculus. It’s the toughest math class I’ve taken so far, but I love to be challenged at school—at least in the subjects that interest me.
*****
At lunch that Monday, I walk up to Krista’s and my usual lunch table. It’s a small, square table near the wall of a cafeteria that seats hundreds of students, so we’re free to eat unnoticed. We’re also free to stare at the cool kids and seniors who get the seats of honor on the stage.
Krista and I aren’t anything close to being considered popular. We’re school-focused—the kind of students who always do their homework, who never skip classes, and who try their best not to break any rules. We’re the kind of students the principal never meets but is always proud to have. We’re nerds—nerds of Colva High, a diverse school with about 2,500 students. Seniors at our school can graduate without meeting half the kids in their class.
My first day of freshman year, the thought of seeing all those students in one place was overwhelming. But once you get used to the crowded hallways, you barely notice them.
“Ok, it’s official,” Krista says as I sit down. “I hate divorce. I just do.” Krista is a long-haired brunette with pale skin that’s a testament to how little time she spends in the sun. Whenever she isn’t talking to me or doing homework, she’s reading a book—always inside. Her green eyes are especially full of fire today.
“Actually, I believe you made that official, what, two…no, four weeks ago,” I say as I begin unwrapping my turkey sandwich.
“Hah. Four weeks ago, I knew nothing. Now they’re arguing over who gets me during the week and who gets me over the weekend. They actually flipped a coin over it,” she says, munching on a carrot stick.
“They did not,” I say before biting into my sandwich.
“They did. Now my mom has me during the week, and my dad gets weekends.”
“So, your mom won then,” I clarify. I take another bite.
“No, she lost,” Krista says.
I think about it for a second. Then I say, “Well, I guess they figure weekends are more fun because—”
“Don’t kid yourself, Chloe. The winner got fewer days with me.”
“At least they still remember to pack your lunch.” I take a sip from my water bottle.
“I pack my lunch now, and I make dinner most nights, too. My parents aren’t in any position to make decisions these days—big or small. If it were up to them, I’d starve before they agreed on what to feed me. And they insist on agreeing on every decision that concerns me before they make it. It’s ridiculous.”
“I’m sorry, Krista,” I say, finding those words woefully inadequate to express the support I want to give her.
“As I said, I hate divorce.” I nod, and we focus on our food for a while. Then Krista says, “Sometimes love really hurts. But then, I don’t have to tell you that. How’s Mordecai anyway? Have you talked to him lately?”
“Yeah, I did. This past weekend,” I say.
“How is he?”
“Fine.”
“Is he dating anyone?”
I sigh. “Yep.”
She nods. “Yep. Sometimes love really hurts.”
I nod. “Yeah, sometimes it really does.”
After lunch, I still have NSL—my government class—and I hate having it last since it’s my least favorite subject. All students at our school take seven classes every semester, though we only go to four classes a day. On odd days we have all our odd classes—first, third, fifth, and seventh periods. On even days we have all our even classes, plus fifth period again, and odd and even days rotate. (I have NSL last on odd days.)
We have fifth period every day for half the time of the other classes, and the other half of the time is lunch—split lunch. Since there wouldn’t be enough room in the cafeteria, hallways, and courtyards for all students to have lunch at the same time, half of us have class first, then lunch—Krista and I are in that group—while the other half have lunch then class.
Mordecai and I don’t have the same lunch period, nor do we have any classes together this semester, so we rarely see each other at school. But it wouldn’t matter anyway. As I said, we aren’t really school friends. And that just means it’s easier for me to concentrate on schoolwork while I’m there. Notice I said easier, not easy.
Krista and I take the bus to and from school every day, but not the school bus—a public bus. I’m always sad that my ride is so much shorter than hers. That means we don’t have much time to catch up on school happenings on the way home. But if we really have anything important to share—anything we can’t get through in the ten minutes of our shared ride—we call or IM each other later.
Once home, I prepare myself a snack—usually tea and some sort of dessert. My parents don’t get home until 5:00 pm most days. When they do, my mom cooks dinner while studying articles from work and my dad reads the newspaper. We eat dinner at around 6:00 pm, following which we do the dishes and go our separate ways. On the weekend, my dad bakes something special for the week ahead. Or else he picks something up from the store when he does the groceries.
I eat my snack while starting my homework. If I have a lot, I avoid going on IM until I’ve finished a good portion of it, or else I don’t go on at all. But if I don’t have much, I sign on right away. Our large, gray computer with its even larger, gray monitor is centrally located—in the living room. So, if I’m using the computer, I try to make it look like I’m really working, not just chatting. But since my parents have their own laptops and lives, they rarely pay much attention to what I’m doing.
This Monday afternoon is a light homework day. So, after settling myself down at the computer desk with some tea and a muffin, I turn on the computer and sign on to IM. Krista’s on, but I don’t message her. We already covered all matters of import on the bus. Besides, I’m really hoping to see one specific name online—Mordecai’s. He’s not there, so I focus on my homework. But by the time I’ve finished most of it and am about to sign off, he signs on.
It’s always a huge dilemma for me, deciding whether to IM him first. I think IMing first makes me look desperate—like I’m waiting for him—which, of course, I am, but I don’t want him to know that. But if I don’t IM him first, I risk not talking to him at all. He’s a popular guy, so he doesn’t always IM me when he’s on.
On this particular day, I decide not to IM him. He’s taken Mordecai now, which means it’ll be more painful for me to talk to him than usual. That doesn’t stop me from talking to him if he IMs me first, but it makes it that much harder to be the one to initiate the conversation. Anyway, my decision proves to be a wise one because he signs off soon after signing on. I sign off after him. I’m going to have a precalculus test at the end of the week, so I decide to make trigonometry flash cards.
*****
The next day, when Krista approaches our lunch table, she finds me immersed in rapidly reviewing those cards.
“Sine of 30° is ½,” I say. Next card.
“Cosine of 180° is -1.” Next card.
“Tangent of π/3 is the square root of 3.” Next card.
“Planning to take a break anytime soon?” she asks as she sits and begins unpacking her lunch.
I shake my head. “Test on Friday. Trying to study. Cosecant of 3π/2 is -1.” Next card. “Cotangent of 180° is undefined.” Next card.
“Your test isn’t next period. You still have time to study. Plus, you were studying all morning on the bus.”
I look at her. “I know, but I have to work on an NSL paper today, and those usually take me all day to finish.”
“Don’t tell me that’s due tomorrow.”
I nod. “I’ve been procrastinating. But I think I’ve almost mastered these cards.” I turn back to them. “Tangent of 2π/3 is—”
Suddenly, Krista snatches my cards from me. “Eat first, then study,” she says. “I’ll even quiz you after we’re done if you want.”
I sigh. “All right, fine,” I say.
She hands my cards back, and I put them away and prepare to eat. And as promised, she quizzes me when we’re done. Truthfully, I’ve long since memorized those cards. But I always like to go into math tests over-prepared so I can finish with enough time to check my work. That’s one of the many things I love about math—you know how you’re going to do before the test is over.
*****
I scramble to finish my NSL essay when I get home, glad that I’ve already done the bulk of the research. I always try to work as hard as I can on those papers because I count on them to save my grade, which tests and pop quizzes always send hurtling into the C region. But because I dislike NSL so much, I usually wait until the day before the essays are due to start writing.
Fortunately for me, writing an NSL paper feels more like writing an English essay, so once I get into it, I forget how boring I find the subject and remember why I love the English language. I’d explain why now, but that would be an essay all its own.
I finish the paper at 9:00 pm. Then I spend an hour reviewing for my math test. Needless to say, I spend zero time on IM that day. I’m looking forward to Friday afternoon for that purpose.
But when I’ve handed in the paper and taken my test and when I’m sitting before my computer screen with a cup of tea and a cookie, I’m disappointed to see that Mordecai isn’t on. He doesn’t go online at all that weekend—at least not when I’m on. And so another Mordecai-less weekend passes.
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In the next chapter, Chloe meets a new classmate named Simon. He’s instantly drawn to her, but her heart belongs to Mordecai. Meanwhile, Mordecai shows a hint of jealousy when he finds out there’s a new guy in Chloe’s life.
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