The Breakup Support Group

Emory’s words make everyone else go completely silent. My cheeks flame as I drag my eyes toward him, still questioning if I heard what I think I heard.

“Uh, what?” I manage to say.

Emory shrugs. “I’ll take you to the dance. I’ll pretend to be some guy who doesn’t plan on calling you back the next day. I’m pretty good at it.”

“That’s a really good idea,” Bastian says, pressing the marker to his lips while he thinks. “I think it’s very important that Isla goes on a date for fun, knowing that in the long run, she’s not with her potential soul mate. Isla spent too long thinking that each date with her ex meant forever, and in reality, dating doesn’t always mean forever.”

“So, you’ve got two choices,” Emory says, leveling a coy gaze at me. “You go with me, and we’ll pretend we don’t know each other, or you can find some courage and ask out a total stranger.”

“Or I could just quit this stupid support group,” I mutter.

“I strongly advise against that,” Bastian says.

“Fine.” I sit back in my chair and fold my arms across my chest. Emory plays with the compass bracelet on his wrist, his eyes

never leaving mine. I sigh. “I guess I’ll go on a date with you.”

Chapter Twenty

Mom won’t stop staring at me during Friday’s football game. I’d agreed to come with her to watch the game because it’s an away game that’s a two-hour drive and I didn’t want her driving alone. Her eyesight sucks, and she refuses to admit it and wear her glasses, and I didn’t want her driving at night. At least that’s the excuse I say in my head every few minutes when I find myself asking why the hell I came to a stupid Warriors football game.

They’re playing a small country town with a football team of losers. The score is twenty-one to zero, and I know the win will be a nice recovery after last game’s epic loss to the Wildcats. I’m watching the football field with feigned interest by the time the cheerleaders sprint out onto the field during halftime. Mom is staring at me once again, and I just can’t keep ignoring it.

“What?” I say, giving her the widest eyes I can. “Why are you staring at me?”

“I’m not staring,” she says, squishing up her face in denial.

“You are. I thought you wanted to watch some football, not watch your daughter.”

She sighs and folds the napkin in her lap back into a square. Only my mom is ladylike enough to cover her lap while eating concession stand food. “Honey, I’m just very proud of you for how well you’ve handled things lately.”

“Handled things? Mom, it was a breakup, not a divorce.”

“I know, but it’s still hard. When I asked you to come with me tonight, I wasn’t expecting you to agree.” She puts a hand on my arm and my heartbeat quickens. I really hope none of the people surrounding us on the bleachers are eavesdropping on this conversation. “Life does go on after a heartbreak, and I’m glad you’re seeing that now.”

“Yep,” I say, giving her a smile. “I’m fine, really.”

“Shit,” Mom says, muttering more curses under her breath as she quickly stands up. She takes her foam bleacher seat off the metal bench and moves it directly in front of my face. “This thing is … messed up.”

“What are you doing, Mom?” I lean over to get out of her way, and she steps to the side, shoving her seat into my lap.

“I think it’s broken. Can you check it?”

I hear a giggle in the distance, and instinct makes me glance over, and now I know what’s going on with my mother. She hasn’t suddenly become inflicted with a broken seat. She’s trying to prevent me from seeing the very beautiful, very bouncy cheerleader who is currently throwing her arms around the football player who used to be my boyfriend.

“Mom, it’s fine,” I say, shoving her foam seat back onto the bleacher. “I’m fine.”

“What a little jerk,” she says, still seething as she sits back down. “Flaunting that little cheerleader around in front of you. What an ass.”

“He doesn’t know I’m here,” I say. “Besides, he already told me he’s dating someone, so who cares? I don’t.”

A weird thing happens when I say those words out loud. Most of my teenage life has been spent saying things that are orchestrated to placate my parents and make them feel like everything is fine. But it wasn’t until I said the words out loud that I realized how very true they are. I really am fine. And I really don’t care that Nate has moved on. If anything, I’m happy for him.

I burst into a grin and Mom stares at me like I’ve grown an extra head. “Nate and I had our time, and now it’s over. Why should I waste energy and heartache longing for someone who doesn’t want me?” I shake my head. “That’s just stupid.”

“You’re wise beyond your years,” she says, wrapping an arm around me. “I’m glad you came tonight. I miss spending time with you since you moved to that new school.”

“I never thought I’d say this, but I think the new school helped more than I realize. I mean, if we hadn’t broken up now we would have at some point.” I draw in a deep breath as a tiny sliver of pain winds around my heart. “At least I can get it over with now.”