There are dirt stains and grass stains on Claire’s shirt and pants when she finally gets home.
“I saw you guys, you know,” I mutter from the couch.
Claire looks at me, puzzled.
“In the pool.” I turn to her. “Why would you do that?”
She gives me a bunch of crap about how she and Zach have been seeing each other for a while, how they’re both swimmers, as she walks toward her room.
I couldn’t care less about their aquatic connection. “Did you even use a condom?” I ask her.
She stops walking. Unbelievable. Of course she didn’t. That would require thinking and being responsible, which she’s clearly not capable of.
“I took care of it,” she informs me. “I’m fine.”
I stand up from the couch. “Well, I’m not fine,” I turn to her and say. My lips quiver. I look away, emotions unknotting inside. All I can think about is the two of them at the pool. I haven’t been able to do anything, not eat or sleep or even get ready for Snider. “Do you have any idea what this year has been like for me?” I cry. “You stole my boyfriend!”
“He’s not your boyfriend,” she says. Claire retreats and hides behind the door in her room. “You guys were just studying together.”
It infuriates me the way she says it.
“Fuck you, Claire!” I scream. “I wish you never moved here!”