Through the Break in Her Hair

Chapter 11

"Stupid idiot," Van muttered under his breath. "Don't even know where to start or how I'm supposed to fix this. Who knows what this moron said or better yet, what he didn't say!?"

Van had been going on like this for about a half hour, angrily cursing the ground I stepped on, slept on, you name it. I didn't get it. How could I possible screw things up in one single conversation? He acted like I had made a complete fool of myself, when in reality, that was the best conversation I'd had with her. And to think, I did it all without his help. Ha!

"Calm down, will ya. Everything's fine."

"No, John," he turned on me like a rabid wolf, foam dripping from it's muzzle. "Everything is not fine!"

I blew him off with a wave of my hand, too tired for this crap so early in the morning. Yes, I waited a whole entire day to break it to Van that I broke his precious rule. I figured he'd be pissed, so I wanted to give myself time to brace for the impact. But this reaction was somehow worse than I thought plausible.

He exploded in a fit of unintelligible slurs and curses, making me regret not telling him altogether. The problem was that I couldn't run the risk of Mindy saying anything if he cornered her, just to get herself out of his slimy grasp. God knows there'd be retribution to pay, severe retribution, if he found out from her and not me. So my only option was the Band aid rip method—yank the sucker off and hope the pain is swift and fleeting.

"Even with your patchy, biased memory, I still can't tell what affect you had on her," he growled.

Van turned a cold shoulder to me, grumbling in a volume so low that I only caught every other word or so. Mainly, "incompetent," "dim witted," and, "egotistical moron." I didn't care what he said. I just thought it was funny that we thought the exact same thing of each other. I guess that made us mutual friends, in a way.

"Hey!" I grabbed him by the shoulder and spun him around. "Calm down! That memory I showed you was perfectly clear."

Van crossed his arms tightly over his chest, pinching his lips closed. His eyes glinted, barely open wide enough to see through. "Your memory is only that...yours! It's not hers! It's not her take on the situation, it's not her friend's opinions or input. It is simply a one sided, flat recollection from a love-struck boy!"

A boy who can't see raw emotion even when it's staring him in the face!...He thought, ending his rant.

"What are you talking about? I saw everything!" I hissed out of the corner of my mouth. We had earned a few unwanted glances from the other passengers on the bus. I tried to look as cool as possible, but my irritation with him was causing my blood pressure to spike. And there was no way I could hide the angry flush of my cheeks or the tension in my jaw. Van, on the other hand, was an expert at hiding his emotions. Or as much of an expert as I had ever seen.

He smiled at me, bent over, and pulled a text book from his pack. He set the heavy tome on his lap, letting it fall open where it may. "Allow me to show you then," he said quietly, not looking up from the book. He didn't flip to another page, or point to a specific paragraph, he just stared blankly down at a section labeled "Typographical Errors: The Black Plague of a Resume."

I shook my head, failing to see what he was getting at. How could I have typos when I'd never written anything to Lindsey?! All of our conversations had been verbal, out loud, duh.

John, you ignorant burnt out light bulb, this book is merely a ruse.... He thought, a sigh weighing heavily on his words.

I bit down on my cheek, the pain keeping me from lashing out at him, and peered reluctantly into the textbook. It wouldn't be much of a ruse if I didn't go along with it.