I wanted to follow Landon.
I wanted to chase him into the rain, and reach out for him, and have him change his mind and turn around, and tell me he was wrong and he was sorry and everything would be okay.
But first of all, it was barely drizzling. Not nearly heavy enough for any sort of dramatic reconciliation.
Second, I was a coward.
And third, I didn’t know anything I could say that would change his mind.
I hovered inside the double doors while he waited for his ride to pick him up. Once he was gone, I slipped outside into the empty parking lot and watched the car’s taillights disappear into the haze, which at least felt suitably melancholy.
It was the type of situation that called for some sort of heavy piano music, or maybe a haunting cello motif, but the only soundtrack was the bass beat of “Despacito” rattling off the windowpanes of the Main Gym behind me.
I sat on the curb and wiped my eyes and felt the yawning void of self-hate open up beneath me.
The thing about having depression is, you can recognize the cycles your mind goes through, even when you can’t do anything about them.
Landon kept echoing in my head: “Selfish.”
And I kept seeing Chip’s eyes too. How he couldn’t quite look at me.
I trusted him.
I knew his history with Trent. Knew he had never, ever stood up to him. Knew he was as much accomplice as witness, since Trent worked best with an audience.
And I trusted him anyway.
This is what I deserved.
I sniffed and pulled my phone out. The droplets left tiny rainbow flecks on the screen.
What was I supposed to tell Mom?
Were Landon and I broken up or was it just a fight?
Ditching me at a dance felt like a breakup.
“Darius?”
I glanced behind me and then looked down at my phone again. Mom was sending Oma to get me.
Chip lowered himself to sit next to me. His knees splayed to the side and bumped against mine.
“Well, that was super awkward,” he said, and did this sort of nervous chuckle.
“What do you want, Chip?”
He frowned and looked at his hands.
“Just wanted to apologize for what Trent said.”
What Trent said.
Chip only ever apologized for Trent.
I didn’t say anything.
“Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.”
“Where’s Landon?”
I shook my head.
“What happened?”
“You and Trent happened!” I shouted, but then I lowered my voice. “He was already frustrated with me, but then you and Trent making jokes about me, it was just . . .”
“I didn’t joke about you,” Chip said.
“But you told Trent about that day in the locker room.”
Chip sighed.
“Yeah.”
“Why would you do that?” I choked out. “I thought we were friends.”
“Because I like you, okay?” Chip gulped. “I like you, and I was telling Trent about it because I couldn’t get you out of my head. We were alone and you were so beautiful. You are. You’re beautiful and funny and thoughtful and kind. You’re the nicest person I know. And I couldn’t stand hurting you. I couldn’t stand being so close to you.”
Chip put his hand on my knee and tried to squeeze it, but I took his hand and lifted it off me.
“Don’t touch me,” I said.
“But—”
I couldn’t believe Chip.
If he liked me, why didn’t he treat me better?
The pulsar inside me destabilized and exploded.
“This isn’t some . . . some TV show, where you can torment me for years and then kiss me and be like ‘Guess what? I was gay for you all along!’ It doesn’t work like that.”
“I’m queer. I’ve always liked guys too,” Chip whispered. “And I never tried to kiss you. I wasn’t tormenting you.”
“You’ve stood there, every time Trent said or did something to me. Every racist joke. Every homophobic nickname. You never stopped him.”
“Trent’s not homophobic. He knows I’m queer.”
“You can have queer friends and still be homophobic, Chip.”
He sniffled.
I couldn’t tell if he was crying or if it was just the rain.
“Is that why you told me to quit my job?”
“What?”
“You wanted me to quit because I worked with Landon?”
“No! I wouldn’t . . . You seemed so sad. I just wanted you to be happy. I promise.”
“Why should I listen to anything you say? You’re just as bad as Trent is.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know. I’ll make him leave you alone. I promise.”
Cyprian Cusumano didn’t get it.
It wasn’t just about how Trent treated me.
It was about how he treated me too.
I recognized the glow of Oma’s headlights curving around the parking lot. She pulled up and honked.
I sighed and stood.
“Darius?” Chip said. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I’m sorry.”
Chip was always saying sorry. But he never acted like it. He never changed.
I wiped my own face and cleared my throat.
“Yeah, well.”
I didn’t know what else to say.
Maybe there was nothing else to say.