Free Damsel Distressed by Kelsey Macke

off my face as he repositions himself on the floor. He puts his back to the window and faces me where I lie sideways across the foot of my bed.
    â€œShe was in my English class.”
    I pause.
    For effect.
    I roll onto my back and let out an exasperated, “See? You don’t get it.”
    â€œGen, I know you think there’s some real drama between you and her, but if you don’t tell me, how am I supposed to understand? All I know is you say she decided she hated you last Christmas. Other than that, you’ve shut the Carmella door and locked it.”
    â€œOnly because I don’t want her getting to you. I don’t want her to ruin you.”
    He laughs. “Ruin me? How?”
    â€œWhat if she uses her feminine wiles to make you hate me, too?”
    â€œDid you just say ‘feminine wiles’? Please tell me you did not just use the phrase ‘feminine wiles.’”
    I reach up and pull my hoodie out from under my neck and bring it over my head and face.
    He reaches up and pulls the hood open and brings his face horribly, soul-crushingly close to mine. “Gen, I could never hate you. Never.”
    I close my eyes because staring at him that close is making my heart break, and I can’t handle more cracks in there.
    â€œNow tell me what really happened today.”
    I speak slowly and force myself to look at the ceiling so gravity won’t pull my tears out and so I won’t be tempted to look at his hair when I’m trying to focus.
    â€œShe was in my class. And she came in all gorgeous and perfect. And I don’t care that she’s gorgeous, but it was like she was doing this super-sexualized flirting thing or something. And all of the boys were making gross comments, and she seemed to like that.”
    â€œWell, maybe she enjoys attention,” he says reasonably, as if that somehow is supposed to make me feel less like a Judgy-McJudgerson.
    â€œThat’s not really even the bad part. I mean, if she wants attention, more power to her. I don’t care about that. The bad part is that she came in while Mr. Reed was taking roll, and he called her last name first…”
    Grant is sitting, watching and listening with his most attentive face, but he has no idea why that is a problem. I’m going to have to say it.
    â€œHe called her Cinder-Ella, Grant. In class, he called her Cinderella.”
    In a burst, I recount the wet towel-under-mysheets incident and what she’d said in class today and how Jonathan had come to my rescue. When I finish, I take a giant breath and try to regain my composure.
    â€œBut, wait,” he says. “Her name is Carmella.”
    I roll over to face him and ask, “How is that the only thing you took away from what I just said?” He pushes back with his feet and props himself up against the wall below the window. The increased distance between us makes it so I can finally breathe properly again. “Of course her freaking name is Carmella, but I guess Evelyn let her register as Ella. There’s no other explanation ‘cause Reed’s official roll sheet said Cinder-comma-Ella.” I pause. “If she’s Cinderella, just who does that make me? Ugh! I wanna hit her.”
    Grant holds up his hands and cowers against the wall. “Easy tiger, no need for violence.”
    â€œStop making fun of me, I’m serious.”
    â€œI’m not making fun of you!” He crawls to the foot of the bed again. “Okay, I am making fun of you, but just barely , so it doesn’t count.”
    He’s close again, and I can smell his hair and I just cannot.
    â€œYou know what we need?” he says as he stands up and grabs my hands, pulling me up into a sitting position. “We need some Mythbusters .”
    â€œI hate Mythbusters .”
    â€œBlasphemy! How could you say that? It’s our show!”
    â€œIt’s your show, but I endure it because I love hearing you say,