Hey Monday-Sincerely, Tuesday

Monday-I'm going to throw someone

I was steaming.  Absolutely livid.  I was so angry, you could probably fry an egg on my head.  If I didn't find out who Tuesday's admirer was soon, I was goig to throw something.  And it would probably be Tuesday's lunch, which  would result in her eating my hand off.  Tuesday had mentioned it would stop now that he said his piece, and it would be so-if this admirer was a girl.  Guys aren't like that.  We will stop at nothig to get what we want.  So I had a plan.

Rig up a camera near Tuesday's locker, positioned to be able to see who the admirer was, catch  the little bastard, and wring his neck.  Violent? Sure, but I loved Tuesday more than the world.  I'm a little protective of her, and I don't like it when other guys try to worm their way into getting her attention.  I reached into my bag and ran my hand over the camera and wires.  Operation: Catch the Admirer was a go.  I just had to wait.  

At lunch, I was fidgety and distracted.  I didn't even argue when Tuesday wanted one of my tacos.  Most of the time, trading or sharing a taco  is nonnegotiable.  Today, I barely even blinked.  I had to find this guy.  

I was so wrapped up in my own  thoughts, Tuesday had to say my name three times before I came back to Earth.  "Yeah, okay.  I'm back," I said, snapping back to attention.  

Tuesday rolled her eyes, which looked larger than normal due to the liner on her upper and lower lids.  "I know you're distracted, Monday, but please listen when  I say something," she teased lightly.  "I said, don't worry about this guy.  I'll tase his balls off if I find out who he is," she said cheerfully.  

I cracked a smile.  " Yeah, you'll do that with your nonexistent taser," I said, knowing full well Tuesday had always wanted a taser, just to bedazzle and call her own.  

She shoved the rest of the taco in her mouth, and stuck  out her tongue at me, giving me a view of her half-chewed taco.  I laughed.  Even though she was sometimes emotionally haywire, eating my food, or puking her intestines into a trash can, Tuesday was still Tuesday.  She still was carefree for the most part, and she was cheerful, laughing so easily.  She was so much...brighter than she used to be.  Since Pop (her dad) had died, Tuesday's light had dimmed.  When I left, it seemed to be completely gone.  Now it was back.  It was a relief to see her the way that made me happiest.  When Tuesday was happy, I was happy.  Her light rubbed off on me. 

She smiled at my intense staring, and glanced at something to my right, and a shadow passed over her face, followed by a face.  I knew that look...but she shook it off and tossed her empty tray.  She said, "I gotta go. C'mon, Jamie," and she left with a confused Jamie following her. 

"And then there were two," Bryce said, picking at his food.  He then chucked it, which was weird to me.  I'd seen Bryce eat like it was necessary to save the world.  I remembered Tuesday's look...it was her 'ohshitthisiswrong' look.  It was the look she had given me two summers ago, when I told her I was leaving.  And Bryce was sitting on my right...oh no.

My best not-Tuesday friend, of all people...