The Breakup Support Group

I take the paper cup, smile back, say something like, “Ugh, Mondays.”

He walks me to the stairwell where we part ways for second period and then I hang out at lunch with the friends who haven’t abandoned me and our support group, and later I walk into gym class knowing he won’t be there. I play pickup basketball games with the girls, or jog alone, or go geocaching in the field behind the school each day. Emory goes to the weight room with the guys during gym now. Rinse, repeat.

We never talk about much unless the weather sucks or Mr. Wang’s speech was weirdly interesting that day. Every day comes and goes just like the one before it.

What the hell did I do wrong?

“Rabbit, rabbit ladies,” Coach Carter says at the start of gym class. It’s November first, and she says that at the start of every new month. I don’t know why, and no one has ever asked. Her pen bobs through the air as she counts all of the girls sitting in rows on the gymnasium floor. She gets to the end of my row and goes to the next one, frowning after counting a few people. “Where’s Ruby?”

Someone says Ruby is out sick, and Coach Carter marks it on her clipboard. When she’s finished taking attendance she gives us a look over, drill sergeant style. “Ladies, you are not dressed appropriately for the weather outside, so we’ll be doing free choice in the gym today. Keep in mind, it’s supposed to be a record cold this month, so take your dirty gym clothes home for once and switch them out for

pants and long sleeves. We’re about to start running again. You can’t run if you aren’t warm and you can’t pass the class without at least a twelve-minute mile.”

I sigh, leaning my chin on my hand and tuning out the rest of her lecture on the art of dressing for weather that’s colder than what the average Texan is used to. Somewhere across the hall and through another door, Emory hangs out in the weight room. I want to sit here and wonder if he’s thinking about me. If he thinks this sudden turn in the way things were is normal, if he’s happy about it. But I can’t let myself think those things. That would be admitting that my stupid brain and even stupider heart have let him slip through my heartbreak force field and slither his way into my head. Just like he’s done with so many other girls before me. That’s just Emory. A snake. I have to keep telling myself all of the bad things about Emory. I can’t think about the way his lips felt on mine. No, I definitely can’t think about that.

On Friday, Ciara waits for me after school, leaning on the hood of my car with her arms crossed like she’s the guy in an eighties movie trying to win my affections back. If only she were someone else. I shrug the thought away.

“Hey there, bestie,” she says. The playful tone in her voice tells me there’s a little more she wants to say than just hello.

“Trey’s not picking you up today?” I ask, putting a hand to my chest. She’s wearing a grin the size of my car, so I know nothing bad has happened. Still, I gape at her in a scandalous way. “Is there any drama to report?”

“No, ma’am,” she says, sauntering over to the passenger side of the Civic. “Things are perfect with Trey. But I want some after school girl time. I don’t get to see my Isla as much now that I’m with Trey, and I refuse to be one of those girls who ditches friends for a guy.” We climb into my car, and she tosses her backpack in the backseat. “You free tonight?”

“You know I am,” I say, making a gagging sound. “Unlike someone in this car, I don’t have a hot college boyfriend taking me out every weekend.”

“No worries, Isla. You have a hot high school best friend—me,” she says, splaying out her fingers over her chest. “And you’ll be my other date to this party tonight. Kappa Theta Delta shindig. Trey invited us.”

Her eyes sparkle with anticipation, and her grin widens until I can see all of her teeth. She bites her bottom lip. “What do you think? Wanna go?”

“A frat party?” The invitation is cool, but I must say it in a weird voice because she shakes her head.

“It’s nothing like whatever you’re expecting,” she says. “Well, at least Trey promises it’s not like that. I’ve never been. This is the first time he’s invited me to meet his frat brothers so it’s kind of a huge deal.”

I crank the engine and turn on the heater, twisting the knob to the far right to get as much heat as possible. “I don’t mind going, but won’t you two just be making out the whole time? Why should I be a third wheel?”

“Because Trey is a finalist in their beer pong championship. He’ll be busy most of the night and told me I should bring you.”

“Beer pong championship, huh?” I roll my eyes and pull forward out of my parking space. “Sounds like quite the guy you’ve got there.”

The sarcasm is lost on her. “I know,” she says, dreamily as she stares out the passenger window. “Trey is perfect. I don’t even care if this ends badly like every other relationship I’ve ever had. It’ll be worth it.”

When we get to Ciara’s house, she holds out her hand when I reach for the keys in the ignition. “Don’t turn off the car. I’ll just be a second.”

I lift an eyebrow. “Since when are you ever just a second?”

She grabs her backpack and pulls it into the front seat with her. “Trust me, I’ll be quick. Mom can’t say no to me spending the night at your house if you’re here in the driveway and all.”

“Seems like she can still say no,” I say, lifting an eyebrow.

“Not if I’m in and out before she realizes what’s going on,” she says, smirking. “Plus I might have told her we’ve been hanging out like every day of the week so she wouldn’t know I was with Trey. It would take hours to brief you on all the lies I told about what we did, so you absolutely cannot come inside and talk to her.”

“Tsk tsk,” I say, shaking my head. “You say things like that, and you know the first thing that pops into my head?”

“Bastian’s annoying voice saying something about Trey being a bad influence?”

“Yep.” We laugh, and she throws her braided hair over her shoulder.

“Hang tight. I’ll be right out.”