Free Life of the Party by Christine Anderson Page B

just on the verge of crazy enough, to be brave
enough, to make it happen.
    I had my plan
in action the moment the bell rang. I nearly sprinted down the hall
towards Riley’s locker, smiling victoriously when I beat him there,
and turned to wait. Kids rushed by me on their way to the cafeteria
or to the parking lot and their awaiting cars, some pushed through
the nearby doors to begin the walk uptown to the closest
convenience store. I spotted Riley coming down the hallway, but the
smile fell off my face when I saw Emily close beside. The people
had to move around them instead of barging through the middle,
because to my horrified eyes, Riley’s hand was wrapped tightly in
Emily’s, their fingers as intertwined as their eyes seemed to be,
completely oblivious to all those around them. Completely oblivious
to me.
    I felt like I
couldn’t breathe. Like I had been kicked in the guts, like I had
been horribly, brutally betrayed. I took a breath to steady myself,
to try and talk some rationalization into my befuddled brain. Riley
wasn’t mine, I had never claimed him in that way. So why did I
hate, with every part of me, the fact that he was holding Emily’s
hand? I couldn’t answer that question. I just hated it. I fought
the urge to run over and tear his hand from hers and make him look
at me. Maybe that would snap some sense into him.
    I can’t imagine
what my expression must have been. Riley did look up eventually—it
was inevitable as they came closer—and when he saw me his face
became alarmed. But his hand was still tight around hers.
    “Mac? Are you
okay? Did someone die or something?” He asked.
    “… No … no—” I
choked out. My throat seemed to have closed. I shook my head
instead of trying to talk.
    “What’s up
then? Oh, hey, you know Emily, right?” Riley looked down at the
chubby girl and I saw it then … how his dark chocolate eyes warmed,
how his face seemed to beam at the sound of her name on his lips.
He loved her. I knew he did. I wanted to cry, right there in front
of them. How did this happen? How did I let this happen? I felt the
panicky tears start climbing up my throat, and I gulped to hold
them in.
    “Yeah, sure,” I
barely looked at her, “hey, Ry, do you think I could talk to you
for a minute?” My voice was a raspy whisper.
    “Yeah, of
course. I’ll just be a minute, okay Em?” He smiled again at her.
“Save me a seat?” She nodded submissively and grinned.
    “Sure. Just
don’t be late, okay? Bye Mackenzie, nice to see you.”
    I gave her a
tight smile. It was probably more like a grimace, but at least I
tried. Emily galumphed off down the hallway and I let my breath
out, the tears held at bay for the moment.
    “So, are you
okay or what? You look kind of terrible.” Riley smiled, opening his
locker to exchange books. “Late night or something? Can’t say I
miss that. You’re looking at a full eight, every night. I’ve never
felt better.”
    “That’s really
great, Ry.” I tried to be enthused, tried to seem light-hearted. It
all sounded wooden to me. “Um … so, I was just wondering, well, I
was hoping that we could hang out sometime soon … just me and you.”
I looked up at him hopefully. Emily was definitely not invited.
    “Sure … yeah of
course. Um ….” Riley thought it over. I frowned impatiently. When
did this become so awkward? Hanging out with Riley used to be as
natural as breathing, and now we had to watch ourselves, had to
keep things from each other, had to think things through before
saying them.
    “I’m just
trying to figure … this week is crazy, when I’m not working I’ve
got to get my studying done, what with the camping trip this
weekend ….”
    “What camping
trip?” I interrupted suddenly. A faint hope that he had planned our
trip in secret, to surprise me, glimmered briefly.
    “Oh, yeah,
we’re heading to Moose Lake this weekend, Emily and her family and
I, kind of a pre-grad celebration thing.”
    “What?” My