The Friday Mixer

Is three days away. It’s now or never. On Tuesday I wait for Dylan after school by the front entrance. He comes bursting out of the school doors with a group of friends.

“Hey!” I manage to squeak out before he passes me. “Can I talk to you?”

“Oh. Hey Keda.” He says. “What’s up?”

“Um. I just. I just wanted to say thanks. Thanks for letting me use your pencil that one day.”

“Oh. Ok. Yeah. No problem. Is that it?”

“Yes. I mean no. Um. Are you going to the Friday mixer?”

“Yeah. Katy asked me. We’re going together. I guess. Listen. I have to go. My parents are waiting. See you tomorrow ok?”

“Ok.” I squeak as I watch him run and jump into a red car that seems to match the autumn red of his hair. “No problem.”

But it is a problem. I am beginning to think I might actually be invisible. Of course Katy asked him. She knew I liked him. I am in a bad mood for the rest of the afternoon. I stomp home and run into the bathroom. I study my face. And yank apart the locs at the back of my head that have started to grow together. I yank so hard that I pull a few of them out entirely. I throw them into the toilet and flush. They swirl to the bottom and are gone. Then I just stand there. Staring at the empty toilet. Wishing I could disappear too.