The Quarterback Dilemma

Monday 25 February

I am pissed. Really pissed. How dare he treat me like this? I am going to school today and I am holding my head up high and I am not going to let him get to me. I am making sure I look Super Hot (well, as hot as I can manage) and I am going to laugh and chat with my friends and totally ignore him.

The Douche is old news. He is dead to me.

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Well, that went well. I managed to get through most of the day with nonchalance and NOT CARING radiating from me. Stu wasn’t fooled though and had a look of almost frightened puzzlement on his face all day as I insisted he accompany me everywhere. Unfortunately he is not in my Math class (being a genius) and so I had to cope with that one alone. And I did not cope well. The minute the Douche fixed me with a look I felt my resolve crumbling. It wasn’t even his usual steamy look; it was a questioning look full of hurt. He looked like a little boy all of a sudden, and he had me suddenly questioning my perception. Could I have been wrong? How could that be possible?

At the end of class, I hung back a little and as I had hoped he came up to me. He shuffled and looked nervous and whispered, “I was busy yesterday.”

“So? What’s it to me?” I said. I couldn’t help it; I was still pissed.

Then The Girlfriend said his name from across the room; I hadn’t even noticed she was still there.

“Yeh, I can see what you were busy with,” I said and pushed past him, not taking another breath until I reached the car park.

I am ashamed to say that when I got home I cried. I can’t do this on my own any longer. I need to talk to someone. Why isn’t Mum here when I need her?