‘It’s all my fault.’
‘What?’
‘It’s all my fault,’ I say again. When I look up, Ulana still stands there, hands on her hips. Waiting for something. Waiting for me to do something, like it’s that easy. Nothing is ever that easy. And it is all my fault. ‘I know what you’re thinking but I’m not going to do it.’
Ulana looks at me, then her gaze drops to the cold cigarette end by my black ballet pump. We’re sitting on the wall down the alleyway by the chemistry labs. This is where people go to smoke in between class, make out with their boyfriends, or for us, just have a private conversation away from the cafeteria, away from curious ears. Not even the girls’ toilets is safe anymore. You never know who will be reapplying their lip gloss or cheek highlighter when you’re having a complete mental breakdown about your relationship.
‘You have to,’ she tells me. Again. ‘I know you love him. But he obviously doesn’t love you enough to stay faithful to you. Not only did he cheat but he bragged about it. He’s embarrassed you at school. Everyone knows.’
My face presses into my palms until I can’t feel my nose anymore. ‘Ulana, this isn’t helping!’ I jump down off the wall and press my spine hard against the stone. ‘I’m sorry. I don’t know why I’m getting angry at you. It’s him I’m angry at.’
She jumps down beside me, and wraps an arm around my shoulders. ‘It’s OK. I get it.’
I tuck my chin and place a hand over my face. I don’t want to cry. But I can’t stop it. I can’t stop Steve from hurting me, I can’t stop people from talking about it, and I can’t stop the tears from falling down my cheeks.
‘Oh Soph!’ Ulana turns towards me and pulls me in by my arms. She holds me tight, and I hide my face in the crook of the neck of her red peacock coat. ‘Don’t cry.’
I’ve never understood why people say that. It’s not like the person sobbing before them will suddenly be able to turn the switch back to Normal mode as soon as those words are spoken. For me, it just makes me want to cry more.
‘I…I…’ Why won’t the words come out?
‘I know,’ she says.
Does she know? Does she understand? Aiden would never do this to her. But then, I never thought Steve would do it to me. Is she thinking that too? Is she thinking, ‘What if it was me?’ Or maybe, she’s thinking ‘Thank God it isn’t me.’
When I look up I see Trina Davis standing at the other side of the alleyway, looking right at me. She’s by herself. She’s always by herself. I wonder sometimes if she gets lonely. That’s how I feel right now. Cigarette in hand, she sends a half wave my way. Her eyebrows turned up, she looks like she knows, that she’s heard the rumours about Steve too. Everyone probably has at this point. Thank God it’s Friday. I just want to get away from this place, from these people. I don’t wave back at her. I don’t want to be rude, it’s not who I am, but I’m worried she’ll come over and want to talk, want to hug me too. And then I might crumble in front of her and people will pity me more. Everyone pities me right now, how could they not? I’m pathetic.
‘Lunch bell rings in ten. If you’re going to do it, you should do it now.’
I look at Ulana who has my bag in her hand. She slips it over my shoulder and nudges me back towards the cafeteria backdoor.
When I go inside, sounds of laughter, ranting, whispering, yelling scattered among smells of grease and fat bombard me at the entrance. No one is looking at me, so I edge further in and skim the crowds for him.
‘There he is,’ Ulana points out. She stands close behind me.
Steve is sitting with his back to us, beside his friends.
‘Should I just wait? I can ask him over to mine later then talk to him properly without everyone here watching the drama unfold.’
‘No. Because if he comes over to your house tonight, you’re not breaking up with him. You’re listening to all his lies, and next week we’ll probably be back here with you crying into my shoulder and me telling you that it will happen all over again. Which it will.’
‘It could just be a one-off,’ I repeat for the fiftieth time since Ulana first told me.
‘A “one-off” is one girl, one time. It’s not five girls—’
My feet are moving before she’s even finished her sentence. They’re taking me closer to him. My soles are skimming the floor but I don’t feel it. I’m floating and I can’t stop.
I’m standing behind him before I can turn back. ‘Steve?’
He turns around and feigns a smile across his face. ‘Oh, hey.’
‘Oh, hey’? That’s all I get? After everything?
‘Hey,’ I mutter back and feel immediately stupid for matching his greeting.
He stares at me waiting for me to speak first. Who is this person sitting here in front of me? This isn’t Steve, not my Steve. This is someone else.
‘Can we talk?’
‘The bell is about to ring. I can’t be late again to English.’
‘Then I’ll talk fast—’
‘Not now, Soph. I’ll come over later.’
‘No, it has to be now. I—’
‘I’ll text you later.’
‘No. I want to—’
The bell rings. Everyone gets up and starts collecting their bags, phones, throwing Coke cans into the blue recycling bin, half-eaten cold lunches into the brown bin, plastic into the green. Why is he getting up? I’m not finished yet. I’m still talking. Why is everything moving so fast? It’s spinning like I’m drunk. I grab a chair to steady myself and open my mouth. ‘Steve, I want to break up,’ I blurt out loudly.
He turns slowly. ‘What?’
A couple of his friends start laughing. ‘Shut up!’ he yells at them. His face reddens, his cheeks turning a warm crimson colour but I keep going.
‘It’s over between us.’
‘Why?’ he asks.
Why? He’s asking me for a reason?
‘You cheated.’
‘No I didn’t. I told you, stupid rumours. Soph, I—’
‘You cheated! I have proof.’ I bite my lip and hope he doesn’t ask to see it. I don’t have anything, but I just want the truth for once.
‘Look, it didn’t mean anything.’
My chest heaves as I double over. So it is true. I didn’t want it to be so badly. I wanted it all to be just a rumour.
‘It’s not that bad.’
‘That’s it, it’s over.’
I hadn’t realised how loud that was. Now a small crowd gathers around us. Steve looks around then turns back to me. He straightens up then casually runs a hand through his hair. ‘You know what, Soph? I was done with you anyway. You’re nothing but a tease.’
‘I’m not a tease!’
He smiles but it’s a strange smile. It’s a smile that tells me this isn’t over. Then he turns his back on me, and walks away, pushing past the crowd that’s got bigger.
Ulana grips me by the arm. ‘You did it. It’s over.’
But it doesn’t feel over.
It feels strange. Not right. As if I’m inside someone else’s body and they’re in control. They’re speaking for me, they’re ending it with Steve. But I don’t want that. I don’t want to lose him.
‘Come on,’ she says, pulling me towards biology.
When we get there, I see Steve’s friend Barker in the back row. He’s smiling. It’s that same smile though. Why is he looking at me like that? What does he know?
The afternoon drags on but Steve’s smile lingers in my mind. Then I see his eyes, his hair, that little dimple in his chin just off to the left. I miss him. I miss him so much.
I hurry home when the bells rings at 3.10 p.m. I can’t cry again at school. So I rush back, drop my bag at the base of the stairs, and collapse onto my bed. I pull the rose pink blanket up over my head and surrender to the darkness where it’s safe and warm.
I can’t stop seeing his face, replaying the fight at lunch over and over again. I’m so stupid. I shouldn’t have said anything at all to him. If I hadn’t, he’d be here with me now. Holding me. Kissing me. Telling me how sorry he is. And I’d be able to forgive him. I would. I already forgive him.
I’m so stupid.
It’s all Ulana’s fault. She got me so worked up outside. She doesn’t know our relationship. We would have got past this. It would have made us stronger, closer.
But what if she’s right, what if it happened again? And again?
How many times could I forgive? How many times would he ask me to forgive?
My phone beeps. It’s not ‘Love’ by Lana del Ray so it’s not Steve.
Why isn’t it Steve?
My temples ache so I coax them gently to relaxation with my fingertips. But I can’t relax. There’s so much in my mind that won’t let me be. It hurts so much. Everything. Well, mostly just everything to do with Steve.
I glance at my phone screen without unlocking it. It’s not Steve. I already knew that so why do I feel so disappointed that Ulana is texting me, and not him?
I don’t want him to text me.
He hurt me. He used me. He humiliated me. He cheated on me.
I DON’T WANT HIM TO TEXT ME.
But…I do want him to text me. I want him to come over and tell me how sorry he is and how much it was a mistake. Better yet, I want him to convince me and everyone at school that it’s not true. It’s a rumour that’s not true because he would never cheat on me. He loves me.
Does he love me?
Does he know how much I love him?
My phone rings again, reminding me there is still an unanswered message waiting for me in my inbox that’s not from Steve. I give in and press my thumb down hard on the ID touch.
Are you at home?
My thumb moves quickly across the keypad.
Yeah, why?
Check Steve’s Facebook page
I don’t move. My eyes skim the bedroom until they rest on the pink laptop sleeve on the armchair in the corner. But I don’t get it. My phone beeps again. It’s still Ulana.
Are you on it yet? I can’t believe he would do that to you. Why does he even have photos like that of you anyway?
My upper body moves faster than my legs and I spill out onto the floor. Scrambling up, I yank the laptop towards me. Curled up like a tight ball, I kneel over and type quickly into the search engine.
My phone screen lights up once more. Sophia?
Facebook. Steve…I click on his name from an old post on my wall and jump right into his profile. I don’t see the profile picture that he’s updated to display just his face. I’ve been cut out from that photo, even though I’m there. I don’t see that he’s changed his status from ‘In a Relationship with’ to ‘Single’. I don’t see that there have been over 220 comments under the photo he posted less than three hours ago.
No. I see only the photo.
Of me.
Me.
I’m naked.
My body is completely exposed except for the lace underwear. It’s there for everyone to see, for everyone to comment on.
He’s Facebook friends with 2,467 people.
2,467 people.
My phone is beeping beside me somewhere on the rug. Somewhere beside me, or under me. I don’t know where anything is anymore. Where anything belongs anymore.
What’s happening? Did you see it?
I can’t breathe.
I can’t see. Everything is so blurry.
We need to report him
I’m going to be sick.
This has to be illegal?
Everything is slipping away, the light from the bedroom, the light from the laptop screen, the light from the phone, the light from…from…