Apolonia

“You like chicken fried rice, right? Extra soy sauce?”

“I do,” I said, more than a little surprised he knew that. We’d never gone anywhere together but Gigi’s Café.

After finishing the last of my rice, I wiped my mouth with the napkin at the bottom of my sack and threw away my trash.

“I’d better get going,” I said. “Thanks again for dinner.”

Benji beamed. “Anything in particular you want for next time?”

I shook my head as I packed my things. “Just whatever. Beggars can’t be choosers.”

“You’re not a beggar. It’s a barter system.”

“I’ll eat whatever you’re buying.”

“What if we went out sometime? For dinner. You can drive.”

Benji knew I didn’t have a car. What he meant was, he’d let me drive his yearling Ford Mustang that was orange with black racing stripes. The engine roared, and everyone could hear him coming. It was his high school graduation present from his parents, and in my opinion, they were hoping it would score him a girlfriend who had an appreciation for expensive things and a nice, reputable family. Unfortunately for him, he had a thing for invincible, mean weirdos.

“No, Benji. See you tomorrow.”

“It won’t be a date. It’s the same thing as today. It’s just geography.”

“Not gonna happen.”

“Mess-free, remember?” When I didn’t answer, he changed his approach. “Lunch then?”

“Sure,” I said, trying not to think too much about the hopeful smile on his face as I shut the door.

I leaned back against the wall. He was cute, and I liked spending the afternoon with him far too much. I was getting to know him too well. And he smelled too good. Caring was dangerous, for both of us.

The door swung open, and Benji popped into the hall with my bottle of water in his hand.

“Rory!” he called, realizing too late that I was next to him.

I stood up straight, trying to pretend I wasn’t just feeling sorry for myself and struggling with my emotions. His face was so close to mine that I could feel his breath on my lips.

“What?” I snapped.

“You forgot your water,” he said, taking a step back and then handing the bottle to me. “You okay?”

“I’m fine. You’re just exhausting.”

Before he could respond, I walked away. Even pretending not to care felt more empowering than the messy cluster of f**ks I was giving two seconds before. With every step, the internal conflict disappeared, and the perpetual state of bitchiness that I was used to took over.

“Sorry,” Benji called just as my fingers touched the door handle.

And just like that, with that one word, he pulled me out of my comfort zone and back to feeling guilty with a twinge in my chest. I pushed out the door and walked straight to the Fitz, my breath rising up in front of me in white clouds.

Whatever the reason Benji had for liking me, it was the wrong reason. If I had to tell myself that a thousand times a day, I would. If that wasn’t enough, I would remind myself that getting involved with Benji would inevitably hurt him, and if I cared about him enough to even entertain the thought of ruining his life by giving in to his stupid crush, I should care about him enough to push him away. I was messed-up. A sob story. A charity case.

Maybe that was why he liked me? He felt sorry for me. That thought, true or not, erased any mushy bullshit going on in my head.

Whatever works.

The lab door crashed behind me as I made my way to my stool.

“Shouldn’t you be wearing a coat?” Cy said from behind his computer.

I didn’t answer him.

“What is that saying? You’ll catch cold?”

“Germs cause colds,” I said, picking up my first sheet of data. “It’s an old wives’ tale, like having wet hair outside in winter can make you sick. That’s not true either.”

“Old wives’ tales have a touch of truth.”

“Did you record these isotopic signatures?” I asked, standing and holding up the page in my hand.

Cy looked up and narrowed his eyes. “Not yet.”

“They’re important, you know.”

“I know.”

“Then, why are you dicking around with transcriptions?”

Cy took off his glasses and placed them carefully on his desk. He didn’t speak. He just watched me.

“I’m angry!” I yelled.

“I sense that.”

“Then, why are you staring at me? Shouldn’t you be asking me what’s wrong?”

“You wouldn’t tell me.”

“So?” I yelled again, breathing hard. I collapsed onto my stool. A full minute of silence filled the room before I spoke again, “I’m calm now. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Cy said, returning to clicking on his computer.

Chapter Four

TWO WEEKS INTO OUR STUDY AGREEMENT, Benji was staring at me, waiting for a different answer.

“Still no,” I snapped, a little perturbed he wasn’t accepting my answer and letting it go.

He grinned. “You just said you needed a change of venue.”

“We can’t study at The Gym.”

“We can do whatever we want.”

I rolled my eyes.

“Is that a yes?” he asked.

“No. It’s still a no.”

“Just once. Come with me once, and I’ll never ask you to go again. I’ll throw in a freebie dinner, one you don’t have to study with me for.”

“What am I? A food whore? I said, no.”

Thirty minutes later, we were at The Gym. I was in a loose-fitting Rolling Stones tee, black leggings, and high-top Converse, poking buttons on a treadmill and fantasizing about where I would eat my freebie dinner. Benji was next to me, jogging along, spouting information from that day’s notes. He wasn’t even out of breath, and he was wearing the T-shirt I liked best on him. It was maroon with yellow lettering that said, Come to the dork side. We have Pi.

I clicked a green button, and the treadmill began to move. I held on to the rails as if I were being led to the fiery pits of hell.

Benji burst into laughter. “It’s okay, Rory. It’s not going to eat you.”

“You don’t know that,” I said.

Benji leaned over and pushed a button a few times.

“What are you doing? Push your own buttons!” The treadmill began to move faster, and so did my feet.

I jogged next to Benji at half the pace, but I was already breathing hard. In high school, I was in volleyball. I could run laps all day and barely break a sweat. I even had friends, and they would beg the heavens for my thick, shiny brown hair and perfectly peach skin. Boys had just begun to notice me. Then, I died and came back an angry shaven and pierced pale hermit who gasped for air after slowly jogging for two minutes.