Inertia

Chapter 3

I stepped past the threshold into my home and closed the door behind me. I sank down to the floor and let out a deep breath.

All the way to my car, I kept thinking: I am a rock. I will not crack. I am a rock. I will not crack.

And I cracked. I spilt my guts to Mark completely over a chocolate chai latte and way-too-high-caloried-but-totally-worth-it pound cake. I mean, I couldn’t not tell him. He was my best friend, it’d be like withholding information from the police.

As soon as we’d sat down with our drinks and the cake we were splitting, Mark demanded that I tell him what was wrong. I replied, “No, it’s really not a big deal, I promise. It was just something that was... bothering me earlier.”

“Bullshit.”

I looked up from stirring the straw in my drink. “Huh?”

He gave me a pointed look, and broke off a piece of our cookie. “I said, ‘bullshit’. Something has been bothering you, you seemed so out of it today. Tell me, or I swear to God I’ll tell the barista you’re in love with him.” My ears turned bright red, and my eyes darted to the cute barista who I’d (mistakenly, obviously) told Mark about.

“Okay. Fine, I’ll tell you.”

So all in all, I spilt the beans. I rambled about what happened earlier that morning, and what Mr. Bradford had said to me after class. With each passing sentence, Mark’s (perfectly done?) eyebrows inched higher and higher. When I’d finished my story, he leaned back in his seat and whistled.

“Babe. He’s got a thing for you.” I buried my face in my hands at his words. “No, there’s no way. I’m a child, for god’s sake! He’s... he’s a...”

“—Manly man?” Mark suggested, waggling his eyebrows at me. I glared at him, and he cracked a smile.

“Kinda,” I admitted quietly, looking down so that I wouldn’t have to see the evil glee slapped onto Mark’s face.

“Emmy, look up.” I did, and I was a bit surprised to see Mark looking at me empathetically and sweetly. “Em, it’s just a crush. It’s not like he’ll ever know.” I felt my ears heat up.

“My god, Mark, I barely know him. I don’t like him, I swear. I just think he’s really hot,” I said, before pursing my lips (having realized what I’d just said).

Mark grinned triumphantly. “You so like him.” I shook my head vehemently.

“No.”

 “Yes.”

 "No!”

 “Yes, bitch!” Mark cried indignantly.

 “Marcus Elizabeth Kellan, I’m declaring it a no.” I said firmly. He flinched, probably scared that someone had heard his fake middle name. Yes, I won! I fist pumped mentally.

 I finished my coffee and stated, “I should get home. I want to see my mom and John.” Mark nodded and threw our cups away.

 “Catcha later, bitch,” he said, giving me a soft hug. I laughed at him. “Ditto,” I replied, and left him to walk home.

 

***

DARE ME TO JUMP OFF OF THIS JERSEY BRIIIIIIDGE
I BETCHA NEVER HAD A FRIDAY NIGHT LIKE THIIIIIISSSSSSS

KEEP IT UP KEEP IT UP LET’S RAISE OUR HAAAA—

 “Aughhh!” I screamed, startled. My hand desperately banged on my alarm clock, and it somehow shut off. I fell back in bed breathing hard, my heart beating a million miles an hour.