At school on Monday, I feel like Iâm missing something. People seem to stare at me for longer than usual and I get less polite replies to my greetings. In the end, I brush it off, convinced itâs just Monday morning gruffness.
My third period is art and Iâm just cleaning my paintbrushes when someone taps my shoulder. I turn around to see Lynn who looks uncharacteristically pissed. Weird, I think, sheâs usually such a sweet girl.
Before I can ask her whatâs wrong, she pushes her paint pallet forward, effectively smearing acrylic paint all over my shirt. My mouth drops open as I hear some distant chuckling and whispering but I canât focus on them. Not with the blood rushing in my ears while my head is trying to catch up to what just happened.
I ball my hands into fists, trying to blink back tears as I look down at my favorite shirt which is now ruined. When I meet the other girlâs eyes, sheâs mocking me with fake pity.
âOh no, is poor Florence going to cry? Itâs not nice when someone else ruins something important to you, is it?â she says. Unable to speak or stand being publicly humiliated any longer, I push past her and rush out of the room. I only stop running when I reach the girlâs bathrooms. While Iâm deciding whether I want to curl up and cry in self-pity or try to wash my top, the door opens again. My heart drops and I turn away, taking deep breaths to calm and brace myself for whatever might come next.
Instead of another hateful comment, strong hands settle on my shoulders and turn me around. Iâm met with the blurry silhouette of Elija, the last person Iâd have expected in a girlâs bathroom.
âHey, donât let her get to you,â he whispers even as I feel the first tear dropping. Honestly, what is it with me and crying in front of this guy? âPlease donât cry. Tell me what I can do,â Elija adds as he wipes away my tear. At that, I laugh a bit.
âItâs fine. Sorry, Iâm being dramatic. I was just surprised because Lynn and I are usually friends but itâs not that deep.â I take a deep breath. âDang, I really donât know whatâs wrong with me. I feel a lot better already,â I tell him truthfully. Then, realizing my sudden change in moods might have something to do with his presence, I add, âThank you,â as an afterthought.
âOf course. You sure youâre alright? Do you want to try to clean the shirt?â he asks though he eyes the damage skeptically.
âNah, forget it. Itâs ruined, Iâll see what I can do with it later.â
âYou donât know why she did it, do you?â I shake my head to answer him and he sighs. âYou really should check your phone more often.â
âWhy, whatâs wrong?â I ask, making a grab for said gadget only to come up empty-handed. I guess I left it in the classroom.
Sighing, Elija takes out his own phone before showing me a post. Itâs Marcus and me holding hands near my tent. I remember that night, he walked me back since the others were busy taking care of Jamie. Itâs a cute picture, weâre both smiling. I donât understand how this explains anything.
Apparently noticing my reaction, Elija clarifies things for me. âLynn has been hanging out with Marcus. Itâs nothing serious but she obviously wants him. I donât know who took or shared the picture but it somehow landed on our schoolâs page. Everyoneâs talking about how youâre trying to worm your way into our friend group, intending to break us apart or get with one of us. Honestly, there are some weird rumors out there so maybe try not to listen to them. Either way, Lynn mustâve seen this and come to the conclusion that you and Marcus are becoming a thing. Sheâs just shallow and jealous so ignore her, okay?â he says.
I nod, not sure what to think. On one hand, I feel bad for Lynn since her situation seems a bit too familiar. On the other hand, I am really disappointed in the way she reacted I mean really, shouldnât she know me better than that? How could she think Iâd go after someone sheâs into after knowing me for two years?
I guess Iâll talk to her after weâve both cooled down.
âFlorence? Where are you again?â Elija interrupts my train of thought. I canât help but smile at how he always catches me zoning out.
âSorry, Iâm back. So, want to talk about what happened on Friday?â I ask him. I havenât heard of him since he left but my mind spent hours thinking up why he came over.
âOh, right. Daniel had a tantrum and broke my guitar. I worked my ass off to be able to afford it so it was best that I left instead of doing something I would have regretted. When I came back home, he apologized and my parents said theyâll help me get a new one but, yeah. I donât want them to spend their savings on something so unimportant when there are so many bills to pay. Iâll try to get a job soon and work things out myself. Itâs fine,â he says nonchalantly. Despite his act, I can tell heâs still upset about it.
I had no idea his family was struggling financially and I hate the thought of Elija having to work after school to be able to make the music he loves so much.
âI know itâs not the same as a new one but if you donât mind, we have an old guitar in our basement somewhere. I could lend it to you until you have the money to buy one yourself. That way you could wait to get a job until the next break,â I offer. He smiles but I know heâll decline even before he says the words.
âI couldnât accept that.â
âItâs collecting dust in some dark corner, Elija. I mean it, please,â I insist. Really, I havenât seen the thing in years but I know we kept it. It belonged to my aunt and we have never thrown her stuff away.
âAre you sure?â Elija asks slowly.
âYes. I can take it to school tomorrow, does that work?â I ask him and his face breaks off in a grin. Guess he hated the idea of not being able to play as much as I thought.
âYouâre the best!â he exclaims before trying to pull me into a hug. As tempting as that is, I push him away.
âIâm covered in paint,â I tell him quickly. He laughs to himself.
âRight, sorry.â