Punk Love

Me: Yeah. I know.

Alex: Tell him tomorrow.

I logged off. Thursday came and went. I hung out with Ryan whenever I was at school, and then after school, too. We went to Hobby Lobby to buy some painting supplies. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t find a good opportunity to say, oh, by the way, I’m probably going to lose my virginity to your bitter rival at some point, and, also apropos nothing, we’re all going to hang out on Saturday together. Should I wear the Anti-Flag shirt or the Sex Pistols one?

I was a coward, and I knew it. What’s more, I was a confused and slightly bitter coward. I knew Ryan was going to go to this vegan picnic. Why hadn’t he invited me? He was telling me about his friends, about his band, about his life, day in and day out. Why didn’t he want to include me in his plans? Bring me into a community I obviously longed to be a part of?

On Friday night, I logged onto ICQ and found a message from Alex.

Alex: Did you tell him?

Me: No.

Alex: ?

Me: IDK. Maybe we should just…not? I mean, I don’t even like the outdoors that much. And freshly cut grass actually smells awful in my opinion. I think I’ll skip on the picnic.

Alex: You have to be fucking kidding me.

Me: …

Alex: You’re a wuss.

Well, you still haven’t kissed me, asshole, so I guess takes one to know one.

Of course, I didn’t have the ovaries to tell him that.

And I couldn’t tell him what I was really thinking—that a part of me was still biding my time until I managed to untangle what Alex and I really were. Friends? Soon-to-be a couple? Neither?

Alex: Tell him.

Me: No. And don’t you dare tell him yourself.

Alex was going to stomp all over Ryan’s heart and make a show of it. He might’ve been mildly nice to me, but he was ruthless with everyone else, and I knew it.

Alex did not write back to me.

He logged off without saying goodbye.

The next day, I was in a shitty mood.

Did I lose Alex because I couldn’t find it in me to tell Ryan I was hanging out with him? I didn’t owe Ryan anything. But, as with many girls my age, the idea of letting someone down was frightening, if not downright traumatic.

I wanted to do well by everyone, and to be liked by all.

Aside from sitting too close to me, and looking at me like he wanted to kiss me sometimes, Ryan had been a really good friend. Emotionally supportive and encouraging.

Friday afternoon, I got out of school and headed straight to the gym, drinking the vegan protein shake my mother had bought me, that tasted like a stale fart. I froze in my spot the minute I got out of the gates of my high school.

Volvo SUV.

Shiny and suburban and filled with a gorgeous Viking who sat behind the steering wheel, drumming on it with one hand, his signature I-have-no-time-for-this-BS move.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

I took measured steps toward the SUV, straightening my spine, mentally taking inventory of what I looked like. I raised my arm to sniff my armpit.

I had changed to my gym clothes earlier that day, so I had on a white tank top and pink shorts. I also had a cute side-braid and glittery eyeshadow. Not exactly the epitome of punk rock. I began to sweat. It felt like he was going to catch me cheating on him, and we weren’t even together.

I looked cute and fun.

The opposite of everything he stood for.

He was going to notice that I was a faker. Just a normal girl, with normal clothes, and aspirations to one day have Britney Spears’ abs.

Alex noticed me and rolled the passenger window down. His face was a mask of icy indifference. There was something seriously wrong with me, because I found his staggering stoicism at the sight of me thrilling.

He looked right past me. Through me. Like I didn’t even exist.

Maybe I’m a ghost?

I stopped in front of his car.

“What are you doing here?” I demanded, folding my arms over my chest.

He looked at me like he just realized I was alive, and wasn’t thrilled about it.

“What are you doing at my school?” I repeated.

“Picking up Ryan for rehearsal. What the fuck else would I be doing here, Little Friend?” He stared at me like we’d never hung out. Like he didn’t even know me. Like I was some kind of stalker. And he used the degrading nickname from that day at the demonstration.

I opened my mouth to say something when Ryan breezed past me, sliding into the passenger seat. He was so excited to get picked up by Alex, he hadn’t even noticed me.

“Ready to roll?” Ryan turned to Alex, raising his hand for a fist-bump. Alex ignored his fist, his eyes on me, his indifference morphing into a smug, evil smile.