Free Kiss And Blog by ALSON NOËL

making fun of everyone, and don’t think they didn’t notice.” She narrows her eyes at me. “Look, this is just way too important to me, and I’ve worked way too hard to risk having you . . . well . . . whatever.” She shrugs, and looks down at the ground.
    “Dragging you down?” I gasp. “Is that what you were gonna say?
You can’t risk having me drag you down?”
I stare at her, needing to hear her say it, yet fearing she will.
    But she just looks at me and shrugs. And when my eyes meet hers, it’s obvious that she’s already moved on, that she’s totally over me, and that this is just the messy, yet obligatory, breakup scene.
    So I take another step back. And then I turn away. And right before she closes the door, I turn back and say, “And the coach?” I look at her, waiting.
    “My mom’s idea.” She shrugs.
    And it’s not until I get home, and into my room, that I realize she still has my cheer.

 
    Seven
     
    That whole episode on Sloane’s porch seemed so surreal that on Monday morning I actually kept to my usual routine of stopping by Dietrich’s and buying two coffees and a chocolate chip scone. Can you even believe that? I guess that’s what people mean when they talk about denial.
    And if that wasn’t bad enough, I then found myself hanging by my locker during the ten-minute break, waiting for my ex- best friend who (big surprise) never showed. And it wasn’t until lunch, when I realized that I was now officially the only remaining member of Table C, while Sloane was quickly working her way closer to not just the middle, but the actual pinnacle of Table A, that the enormity of the situation finally hit me.
    And I just sat there, hunched over my cooler pack, taking tiny bites of the avocado organic sprout sandwich my mom had made, while sneaking peeks at Sloane who was tossing her hair and laughing, as though she was born right there on that very table. Then I gazed around at some of the lesser tables, wonderingif I could maybe find solace in some other low-rent location. Though to be honest, it didn’t seem like any of them would have me either.
    And when the bell finally rang at 3:35, well, I just grabbed my books and got the heck out. I mean, JV cheerleading try- outs would begin in just twenty-five minutes, and I planned to be as far away as possible when it all started.
    But on my way home, I found myself stopping by the café, even though I wasn’t scheduled to work. I guess I just couldn’t face hanging in my room, all alone, with nothing but my sad, lonely, depressed thoughts to keep me company. I mean, I just wasn’t ready to face all that. And since I’d barely spoken a word all day, I was feeling more than desperate for a little company.
    Heading into the back room, I drop into a chair, and toss my backpack onto the floor at my feet. And when my mom looks up from her calculator and pile of receipts she says, “Winter? I thought today was tryouts?” Then she glances at her watch and back at me.
    And even though I originally thought I wanted to talk, I definitely don’t want to talk about
this.
So I close my eyes, shake my head, and say, “I really don’t feel like discussing this right now.” And when I hear my own voice, I feel kind of bad about sounding so tight and clipped and mean, but I’m also pretty hopeful she’ll get the hint and move on.
    But my mom, totally blind to my plight, continues. “Is everything all right?” she asks, gazing at me with concern as she swivels her chair, ready to jump up and hug me if the situation should warrant.
    And the fact that she doesn’t get how I’ve suddenly changed my mind, that I’m no longer in the market for company, and that my new goal is simply to be left alone, makes me so freaking annoyed that I grab my backpack and storm out the back door, cringing as it bangs hard against the frame.
    And as I stomp past skinny smoker dude, I don’t acknowledge him, and he refuses to speak to me.
    By the time I make it home,