K Y L I E
Someone was crying in the toilet. I hadn't heard it at first, because I had come in just as the bell rang, courtesy of Mr. Hernandez letting us out early, but I could hear it now, loud and clear. Someone was crying in one of the stalls. I looked in the mirror. A girl in leather pants and red lipstick looked back me. To speak or not to speak? That was the question.
"Are you okay?"
No one answered. Instead, whoever was crying stopped. I didn't think anyone could make themselves stop crying that fast. They had definitely just put their hand over their mouth. I turned around and walked over to the stall the crying had been coming from before.
"I know someone's in there," I said.
Nothing.
"Fine, let's see how long you can hold your breath for."
Nothing again.
"I'm not giving you mouth-to-mouth if you pass out."
Nothing still.
"Fine, kill yourself, bitch," I said, turning around and going back to the mirror. I grabbed my lipstick from my bag. Then I heard her breathe again. "There you go!"
"I'm fine," she said.
"Skylar?" That was definitely Skylar Clark's voice. "Is that you?"
"No."
"You're a shit liar. I know it's you." I was back in front of her stall, arms crossed over my chest, a frown on my face. Why was Skylar crying in the toilet?
"I'm fine," she said again.
"You don't sound fine." She sounded like she had been crying for a while.
"Well, I am," she insisted.
We'd just had class together, so it had to be something that happened during it.
"Is this because Mr. Hernandez forced you to pair up with Jacob for the presentation next week?" I asked because I, Kylie Green, had been right. Jacob and Edward did have a fight, a fight so big, they had refused to keep being each other's partners in Spanish. For some reason, Mr. Hernandez had let them switch. Jacob got paired with Skylar, and Edward with Skylar's old partner, Liam Chan.
"How do you know that?" Skylar asked.
"Can you come out, so I don't have to keep talking a door?"
She came out. She had definitely been crying. Her face was all red and puffy.
"You didn't see me in class?" I asked her.
"I did," she said.
"Well, there you go," I said. "If you saw me, don't you think I saw you too?"
Skylar shrugged, "I guess."
"So what is it? Most girls would die to pair up with Jacob for literally anything."
She frowned, "Why?"
"Have you met him?"
"I have."
"And...?"
"And what?"
"Are you gay?"
"No."
"Are you blind?"
"No." She was more and more confused.
"He's really hot, Skylar, like, it's offensive how hot he is."
"Oh," Skylar said. "Well, why does that matter? This is Spanish, not American's Next Top Model."
I smiled, "Right, but still."
"I know how boys like him work."
"How?"
"They don't."
"So what, it's not like you need his help. You don't need anyone's help."
"So I'm just supposed to do everything on my own? That's not fair."
"Did he say he wasn't going to help you?"
"He said I could go over to his so we could get some work done."
"See?"
"I'm not going over to his."
I was very confused, "Why not?"
"I don't want to."
"Skylar."
This was Jacob we were talking about. The only reason nothing had happened between me and him yet was that he was under the impression I was somehow very lucky to have him interested in me, when really, it was the other way around. He was the lucky one. Once he realized that, then maybe, something would happen, surely not before.
I was, however, ready to admit to myself, and only myself, that this whole thing was really just me compensating for the fact that I did feel lucky. I didn't know how not to. I had spent years feeling it, feeling I needed the validation, the approval, most of all, the respect of boys like Jacob.
Then Allora had started reading a lot of feminist theory, and she said all this did was have us cater to the male gaze, which, according to her, was the worst kind of gaze. She was right. She was always right.
I thought having Jacob understand he was the lucky one, not me, was a way of making up for this need for approval, but probably all I was doing was needing more of it, so much more, that it wasn't approval I wanted anymore, but worship. Because back then, Allora had been reading all those books, but she had also been dating Jason, and I had never liked Jason, but I had always liked the way he liked her. He would have kissed the ground she walked on. I wanted that. I needed that.
Skylar was different though. I doubted someone like her needed anyone's approval, specially not from some quarterback with an ego so big, it bordered on narcissism. She should just go for it. She didn't agree.
Instead, she asked, "Why can't we just work at the library?"
I frowned, "You're being so weird right now."
"I really need to get an A in Spanish."
"You always get an A in everything! What are you talking about? Also, did you put concealer on this morning? Cause it's coming off. You need to retouch it, like, immediately."
She touched the circles under her eyes, and said, "I don't have concealer with me."
"I do," I said, grabbing one of her hands and pulling her with me to the mirror, "Do you know how to do it, or do you want me to?"
She looked at the tube of makeup I took out of my bag, "I know how to do it."
I laughed, "You're such a shit liar. Come here."
She didn't. I had to step closer to her.
"I'm not going to his house," she said again.
"You should. It's a really nice house."
She closed her eyes, maybe afraid that I would stab her with the concealer, then she said, "He said we were gonna have fun. I don't wanna have fun with him."
I frowned, "What do you think fun means?"
She opened her eyes but said nothing.
"Go on," I insisted.
"I don't mean that he's interested in me in any real way, but he probably thinks I'm interested in him, because he thinks everyone is, and he'll try and use that to have me do the whole project for him, I just know it. He said he really liked what I did with my hair this morning. I didn't do anything with my hair. Look at it, it's a mess."
I looked at her hair, "It's a bit of a mess, yes."
She shrugged, "Whatever he thinks he's doing, it's not gonna work, and I'll end up feeling very uncomfortable, and doing the whole project for him anyway, not because he's swopped me off my feet, but because I need an A in Spanish, in everything really, and he'll end up feeling very emasculated, or whatever it is boys like him feel, and calling me a bitch, probably in front of the whole school, which I don't really care for, but, you know, it's not very nice."
"Wow." I put my concealer away and got a brush to blend it with. "What happened to you?"
She closed her eyes again, not because she was afraid that I would stab her this time, but because she didn't want to have to look at me, "You think I'm an idiot."
"No, I don't," I said. "I just think you shouldn't take yourself so seriously. So what if he wants to use you? Use him too! I heard he's a good kisser."
"I don't wanna kiss him," she stopped me. "That's the whole point."
"Why not?" I asked. "You're so smart. I'm sure you can find a way to keep your grades up and have a little fun. None of this bullshit is gonna matter in a few years. Also, you're done. Look."
She opened her eyes and looked in the mirror. No more bags under her eyes, no more red and puffy cheeks.
"Thank you," she said. "It looks nice."
"You look nice," I said. "Look at you, bitch! Why wouldn't Jacob be interested in you?"
Her face went red, and she shrugged, "Why are you doing this?"
"Doing what?"
"Being nice."
"I'm a very nice person, Skylar, what the fuck?"
"Right," she said, but she didn't believe me. "I gotta go. I have Calculus next, butâ Thank you, I'm fine really, I just, I get really, I don't know, it doesn't matter."
I started putting my things away, "Don't worry about it. I cry a lot too. It's great."
"You cry?" She seemed surprised.
"All the time, Sky. Can I call you Sky? I'm gonna call you Sky." She shrugged. I threw my bag over my shoulders and walked to the door. "Buena suerte con tu proyecto."
She laughed, "Para ti también."
"I'm with Zoey Rodriguez. Her mom's Mexican. I don't need luck." Usually Zoey paired up with Daisy so they could go on losing their shit over whatever character had died in the book they were reading, but according to Allora, Daisy had gone for Germain instead of Spanish, just like Jason. All this Allora had learned unwillingly, courtesy of the girls at practice, who even after finding out Jason and Daisy were siblings, not boyfriend and girlfriend, had gone on talking about them.
"Right, well, see you around," she said before opening the door and rushing out into the hallway. The bell rang. Next class was Precalculus. Jacob would be there too.