Page 13 of Beneath the Helmet
Maybe he’s not back with her after all? All the signs would point to no, but they’re together alone, so I don’t know. Plus, he talked to me with her here and he’s never done that before…
Do I dare text him when I get home and ask him? What if he’s still with her when I do?
Oh, God, no. I can’t. I won’t. I’m not going to get tangled in that.
“Oooohh, who’s that girl he’s with?” Dad says in his high-pitched gossipy voice.
“That’s his or was his girlfriend. I’m not really sure if they’re still dating or not,” I whisper, leaning over the table.
“There’s no way. She’s notnearlyas pretty or smart as you.” He winks.
“DAD! Stop.” I attempt to hide my face to save myself the embarrassment he’s putting me through, but my mother removes my hands, forcing me to participate in this conversation. “It’s not like that. You know Ben and I are just friends. There’s nothing there. He’s like my brother.”
But the words felt wrong as they left my lips. He definitely doesn’tfeellike a brother anymore. Once again, my brain defaults back to the “what is this” question.
I dare a glance over at Ben and Tree but all I can see is their heads leaning toward each other over the top of the table with their hands intertwined.
My stomach plummets again. I feel sick. This emotional turbulence mixed with stuffing my face too quickly is not a great mix. Turning away, my nose and mouth crinkles from the nausea. I can’t watch them anymore.
“You okay, Charlotte? You look a little pale.” Mom’s gaze bores into me so deeply it’s like she’s peering into my soul. She pauses before glancing over her shoulder at them and then turning back to me.
“Uh, yeah. Can we go, please? I need to go home and lay down.”
“Sure, sweetie. Did you want to go say bye to Ben first before we head home?” Dad says, pointing over to their table the exact moment I catch them stealing a kiss.
Kill me.
“No.” I force out a small chuckle to hide the pain. “I don’t think they want to be disturbed.” Wetness clouds my vision as I bite my trembling bottom lip, focusing on my fingers twiddling nervously with each other in my lap.
Mom lightly punches Dad in the shoulder, making him retort, “What? What’d I say?”
On the way to the door, I pretend my eyes itch and rub all the wetness out of them to prevent any trace of unwanted tears. All I want is to go home, go to bed and not think about anything.
The drive home was quiet, an awkward tension hanging in the air. So many new uncomfortable emotions surfaced this week.
Is this going to be a new normal?
God, I hope not.
The second the car pulls into the garage I’m out, kicking my shoes off at the door and speeding upstairs to my room to check my phone and see if he texted me at all, knowing I’m glutton for punishment.
My heart flutters as I softly close my door and stare at the phone sitting face down on my desk. I want to see if he texted me, but I also dread checking because if he didn’t, I won’t be able to hold back these tears that I've been fighting back since we left the restaurant.
I whisper some encouragement to myself, willing myself to believe it. “This doesn’t matter. I’ll be fine either way. So what if he didn’t text you? I’ve been through this before with him.”
Okay, deep breath and…I flip my phone over quick like it’s on fire.
Nothing. The screen is still black. I click the side button to wake it up and nothing. Really? After all that I can’t even check it? How is my battery dead? I had it plugged in all night.
Squishing myself in between my desk and the wall, I spot my charger laying on the floor, unplugged.Ugh.I reach back and plug it in so my phone will charge. Maybe this is the universe sparing my feelings.
Sighing deeply, I stand in the middle of my room, looking around like a lost duckling. What do I do with myself now? It’s only three o’clock.
Well, I could go on a run to try and clear my head, but if someone tries to kidnap me, I’m toast, so I guess that’s out.
Hm…I could see if I have any paperwork to do for college admissions now that I'm accepted somewhere, but then I'd have to sit at my desk where I'm sure I'd just stare at my phone the whole time.
Mandatory weightlifting for track, it is. At least I’ll be out of the house and away from my phone for that.
