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Everyone looks at the cafeteria menu in the school newspaper, so in the space above it that is sometimes used for announcements about price changes or sold out items, I add the short message.
It’s the last thing I do for the day, and while I jot down a few things to remember to do tomorrow on a sticky note I attach to the top of the computer after I shut it down, Megan asks me again if I want a ride home as she pulls her coat on.
I shake my head, smiling at her as she and Dante walk out together.
The room is nearly empty, and as always, I’m one of the last to leave, mostly because I’m not looking forward to a night with my parents.
Kayla would remind me this isn’t forever, that whatever is going wrong today can’t last.
But I have a whole life ahead without her, and that will last.
I left my coat and homework in my locker, so I close and lock the door behind me after the rest of the students leave the room and listen to my footsteps echo in the empty hall as we all head in different directions.
My coat is new, one I couldn’t help begging my mother to buy when I noticed it was similar to one my sister had a long time ago, with a furry gray collar edging the puffy red bulk.
Her favorite color was red, and she would probably laugh at me now, pleased I still admire her so much I want to imitate her taste, just as she would tell me to think for myself and enjoy my own preferences.
But I don’t know what those are sometimes, and it’s easier to look back to hers for guidance.
With my feet now tucked into heavy boots and a scarf wrapped around my head, tied tight under my chin amidst the gray collar, I head out the front door and into a swirl of snow, happy my backpack isn’t as heavy as it’s been lately, with less books today than usual.
“Don’t you have a ride?”
A male voice interrupts the frozen silence, and since I recognize it, I’m not too surprised as I turn my head slowly to find Eli in a thin black jacket only a few feet away from me.
“Don’t you have a warmer coat?”
It’s not like me to answer back like this, especially not with someone I don’t know well, and I’m taken aback by my teasing sarcasm.
His half smile tells me he’s pleased by my response, but I can’t imagine why.
We don’t know each other, and he has plenty of female admirers along with those who think he’s only trouble.
I don’t fall into either camp.
“Point taken.”
We look at each other for a few moments, and I offer him a small smile before walking away from the school and into the curve of the front driveway where the busses drop off kids who live farther away.
“You look like my grandma.”
I nearly jump when I hear Eli’s voice again, not far behind me as I reach the road, which is surrounded on both sides by trees.
It’s the worst part of my walk, especially when it’s dark and I can’t see well.
Anyone could come out of the trees with no warning, but he’s come up behind me just as stealthily.
“What?”
Once his words register in my mind, I’m unsure what he’s talking about.
He points to my head.
“The scarf. She wears hers like that.”
He nods and stuffs his hands as far into his jacket pockets as they can go.
They aren’t very deep, and his lips are a little blue.
“Seriously, you know you need a better coat. You can’t walk around outside like that for long.”
His shrug is carefully nonchalant, but he doesn’t deny what I’ve said.
We keep walking in silence and I wonder what he’s doing, why he’s coming along with me.
But I don’t ask.
If he wants to talk to me, I can wait.
My house is about a twenty minute walk, and I’m wrestling with the promise of physical warmth inside the house against the cold expectations of my mother.
My stomach growls as I reach a corner where I need to turn to get home, which is only a few doors down.
Is Eli actually going to follow me all the way there?
“I’m this way, the next street over.”
When I glance over at him, surprised at his revelation, he nods once.
His face is red, his lips purple.
But his tiny half smile is so self-assured I can’t help but smile back as he continues to walk away from me, and I watch him until my stomach reminds me the carrot sticks and single cookie I had for lunch was not entirely satisfying.
“I’m home,” I call out once the front door is closed behind me, a habit borrowed from Kayla, who expected me to run to greet her whenever I was already there.
My parents don’t, though, and it’s nothing new.
Once my boots and coat are tucked away in the hall closet, I set my backpack by the stairs and peek into the kitchen.
“You’re late, Mia. We’re about ready to sit down to eat, and I could have used your help setting the table.”
As if setting the table is a huge endeavor.
I smile as brightly as I can, but she isn’t looking at me as she takes a glass dish out of the oven.
“Is there anything else I can do?”
She nods at a wooden salad bowl full of vegetables on the counter, her eyes refusing to meet mine.
“Wash your hands first.”
The reminder is unnecessary, but I keep my mouth shut and do as I’m told before I follow her into the dining room, where my dad is waiting with a folded newspaper in his hands.
He pushes his glasses up onto his head and looks up at us, smiling.
“How was school, Mia? How’s the newspaper gig going?”
His interest in me is fleeting and far between, mainly because he takes a lot of business trips and is often gone at night for dinners with clients, too, so this is a nice surprise.
Once my mother and I are settled and dishes get passed around, I feel like I’ve pulled together an acceptable answer for him.
“It’s going well. We got a tip today that might lead to some investigative work, which is new.”
I know my mother is watching as I scoop a chicken breast out of the glass dish, adding a spoonful of something that smells like lemon garlic sauce over it.
It smells so delicious I take an extra sniff of it before I set it back onto the table, wishing I could eat more of it.
But not under her watch.
“Sounds interesting. Are you in charge of this investigation?”
There’s no official investigation, but he doesn’t have to know this.
I can make him proud of me for once without actually lying.
I think.
“Yes. I’m looking forward to seeing what I can find out.”
His newspaper rustles a bit as he tucks it under his placemat, and my mother purses her lips at the movement.
She’s never liked this habit of his, but she’s given up on asking him to leave the paper in the living room instead of bringing it to the table.
He doesn’t care if it bothers her or me, since he’ll do whatever he wants anyway.
“Keep me posted. I’m impressed you’re taking on a challenge like this, Mia. Good girl.”
My smile is almost painful.
Why do I want his approval so much, knowing what Kayla’s quest to make my parents happy did to her?
But I do want it, and I’m afraid of how happy his interest in me makes me feel right now.
“I will. Thanks, Dad.”
My mother sets a bowl of steamed broccoli before me, keeping the bowl of mashed potatoes on my father’s end of the table and out of my reach.
I don’t ask for it.
When I offer to help her with the dishes afterwards, after my father has gone into his study and closed the door behind him, she shakes her head.
“You should do your homework, and do some sit ups. Or something.”
I frown at her back.
When the weather’s clear, I like to take walks around our neighborhood, but I’m not going to do it in the snow and bitter cold.
And I’m not doing sit ups, no matter how many times she suggests it or tells me my stomach is too rounded.
When I get to my bedroom and take everything out of my backpack, arranging the books and notebooks on my desk, I look outside and find that the snow is falling again.
Does Eli have parents who are interested in him?
Do they want to know how he feels, or what he thinks about all day?
Or do they tell him how he should be, and remind him of what they don’t like about him?
Mine wouldn’t let me out of the house in a jacket like his, mostly because they wouldn’t want anyone to think they were bad parents.
Do his care even less about him than mine do?
Megan texts me with some newspaper questions, then reminds me about Friday night at Josh's.
Before I answer, I lean back in my small desk chair and tilt my head so I can balance my phone on my forehead, the weight of my ponytail fluttering behind me.
Kayla’s friend Cassidy used to do this all the time, and for some reason, it made me laugh.
I wonder if she still does this, and the thought makes me long for winter break, when both she and Sarah, my sister’s best friends, have promised to come visit me.
The phone buzzes and I jump, making it fall to the carpeted floor.
I laugh at myself now, hoping that wherever Kayla is, she can see how goofy I am.
“Hi, Josh.”
My voice is breathless, and he notices.
“Is everything okay?”
His concern, as always, is sweet, although it’s begun to feel kind of clingy.
I shake my head as if he can see me, both to answer the question and to shake off my ungrateful thoughts.
“Sure, just doing homework. What are you up to?”
My pen rolls a bit on my desk and I pick it up, tapping it against my open math book as I listen to him share a discussion with his parents about Christmas and a ski trip they’re planning to take when our school break starts.
“So do you think you’ll be allowed to come?”
The pen hits the floor by my foot without a sound, and I sit up straight.
“I’m sorry, what?”
He laughs, and I’m glad he’s not offended by my apparent lack of attention.
But I was listening, and somehow didn’t catch where he was going with what he was telling me.
“Can you come with us on our ski trip? We’re only going to Pennsylvania, so we won’t be far, and it’s just for a week.”
Absolutely not, I want to say, but I keep my lips pressed together tightly as I take a slow, deep breath before answering.
“Josh, we need to talk.”
“Hey,” he starts as soon as I stop speaking, probably not realizing I want to keep talking. “We’ll have separate bedrooms, I promise. I’m not pressuring you or anything, I’m not even thinking about stuff like that.”
He clears his throat awkwardly.
“I mean, it’s not like I don’t think about stuff like that when I’m with you. You’re so beautiful, and sweet, and . . .”
As his voice trails off, I allow myself to sigh audibly.
“No, it isn’t that. We need to talk, seriously.”