98. This Jerk

“You don’t understand.”

This is all I manage to get out in one conversation with Kelsey.

“Just wait, give me a minute” is another.

“I gotta talk with you” is the third one.

But no. Kelsey is done.

And for the moment, I resort back to seventeen senioritis.

If someone wants to complain, fine, fill my shoes and see what you’d do.

I told her to wait, and she waited.

I told her to trust me, and she was trusting me, right?

Even as she managed to slowly sink away, I didn’t think it would really happen. I didn’t think I was really going to lose her. We were both going with the flow and acting the part, but somehow I think the part grabbed her.

So did big and tall and handsome Lance. What a big dumb lug.

But Poe coming and then that moment and Kelsey seeing … it felt like it was all part of the grand plan. As if someone planned it so that Kelsey would see and finally say enough.

But then I decide to ask around. I come back to planet Harrington and I ask Harris if he knows what’s up with Lance and prom, and Harris gets the scoop.

Yes, Kelsey is going with Lance.

I guess my drama—my life and death drama—isn’t going to get in the way of a girl going to prom. Heaven—or hell—forbid.

When I hear this, it seems that something gets cracked and broken. All of a sudden I need to reach out and try to convince Kelsey of what’s happening and what I’m doing. I’m not avoiding her because I want to or because I want Poe or because of anything other than the desire to save her life.

I mean—that’s heroic, right?

Let’s see Lance do that.

My attempts to reach out to her go unnoticed. Or unwanted. It’s some kind of un-thing that’s making me come undone. So eventually I go to Georgia and ask her what’s the deal.

“What’s your deal?” Georgia bites back.

“Is she really going to prom with Lance?”

“Uh, yeah.”

“But I just—I don’t get it.”

“You know—I don’t get it.” Georgia looks like a pit bull ready to bite.

“What don’t you get?”

“You? You—Mr. Chris Buckley ooh ahh.”

The added bit on my name makes me laugh in disbelief. “Okay.”

“No, I really don’t get it,” she says. “I don’t get what these girls see. I mean—you come in and you have Jocelyn—Jocelyn—and her friend Poe all aflutter and gaga. And yes, of course, Kelsey too. Little old Kelsey who you keep ignoring and keep overlooking and keep breaking.”

“Stop being dramatic.”

“Oh, I haven’t even started.”

“Really?”

I’ve never wanted to strangle a girl, but suddenly I want to, here and now.

“I don’t get it. I just don’t. Guys like Lance, sure. But you, I don’t get.”

I stare at Georgia for a moment. I swear her nose has suddenly turned up and she’s looking a bit like Miss Piggy.

“I don’t get it either,” I say. “I’ve never claimed to, okay? But there’s a lot—no, pretty much everything between Kelsey and me is something you don’t know about. You don’t understand.”

“You’re a jerk.”

“Yeah, maybe I am. But Kelsey likes this jerk and has for quite a while, and for some reason, she doesn’t think I’m one. And the only thing—the only thing that matters now in this place is that girl. That she ends up being okay.”

“Oh, she’s going to be okay,” Georgia says in a way I don’t like. “She’s going to be fine.”

I’ve always found something to like about girls. But I’ve never found anything to like about their friends.