We're Trying

The past

Hanna

Valentines' day passes and on my bed sits the biggest chocolate box with a note that says To Rose. Ever since middle school when we stopped getting valentines from the whole class Rose and I would get each other valentines. Rose would go all out and invite me over to eat some of her dad's chocolate cake and I would get a chocolate box from a grocery store. This year is the first year I looked at the box and thought how pathetic it is. Rose spends hours baking with her dad and I just waltz into a Ralphs or a Walgreens while my mom goes into the magazine section.

I give the box to my mom and she blushes before bringing me into a hug.

Rose still hasn't texted since she said no problem. I miss her so much, she even shows up in my dreams, and I wish I could train my mind to see these as real but I know they're fake and artificial. She's all I have, there's no one else.

I spend third period in the bathroom. When I get out of the stall Ella is at the sink scrubbing soap in every crevice of her hands. Her edges are laid as usual and her lip gloss bounces off the dirty mirror. A rumbled black string sits on the top of the soap dispenser.

When she's done she grabs the string and looks at me. She stares at me for a second before she looks down at the sink in front of me. "You're supposed to turn on the sink to get the water out if you want to wash her hands."

Normally I would say something like no shit sherlock but I just turn the faucet on. She's about to leave when I say, "I'm sorry."

She turns around still staring at me, the string moving between her fingers. "You should be." And with that, she walks out of the bathroom.

Jamari

I invited Ella over, and when I hear her knock I look around. I've never been embarrassed about having less money than my peers because I knew my mom was working hard, but now I can't help to compare the apartment to Ella's house. It's not even about the fact that it's two stories, but more so that it is a home. There are photographs of her and Jess as babies and the house even smells like Ella. Here in this shitty apartment, there are no photographs or old memories of my childhood. There are just scraps that remind me of Caleb and everything I dislike about him. His game council lays on the couch, the trash is stuffed with all of his chik fil a bags, and even worse the fridge is covered in pictures of women he likes but will never be able to go near. Beyonce. India Love. Zendaya. I take them down every week but he keeps on putting them back. I'm starting to think he masturbates in the kitchen.

I open the door and there she stands. All beautiful and perfect. She doesn't belong in a place like this, the place where my brother smashed my ex-girlfriend. But her lip gloss, goddess braids, and necklace all brighten the room up.

"Your staring," she says.

I lean against the door frame. "You're beautiful."

She tries to hide it but she's blushing and playing with her string a bit more. "Thank you." She looks me over, still smiling. "Are you going to let me in?"

I move aside and just like her, I walk backwards. She shakes her head and somehow I almost fall. She reaches out and pulls me to her stopping me from hitting the ground. We're face to face again, and I can feel her breath on my face. It smells sweet.

She ruins the moment when she doesn't lean in to kiss me but instead says, "Hanna apologized."

I cross my arms and roll my eyes. I keep trying to exile Hanna out of my life but she keeps coming back in. "Don't say her name again."

"Why not?" She crosses her arms as well.

I smirk and look down at her. "Because I don't want to hear it."