How to (Unsuccessfully) Get Over a Guy | Tyrus

Part 6

TJ's POV

I'm actually starting high school as well next year, so I know it's a bit scary going into a new place with no idea of how people will see or accept you. But if you do go to the GSA club, I might see you there. I assume you'll be going to Grant too, since it is the only high school in Shadyside. Unless you go to the city for school. I spend most of my time in Shadyside. I don't think I'd like it in the city. Too loud. I like the quiet of this town and the way I can walk across it if I set aside a few hours. You can't walk across the city. But that's just my opinion. I can see how living in a city could be appealing. It would be lively and exciting. You'd never know what's just around the corner. But I find comfort in knowing what's happening. I like knowing what shops will be open and what cars will be parked where each day. I think it makes me feel like, if I can't have control of everything, at least I have control of this. And I guess I don't control any of it, but I do know what to expect. And when everything else in the world is so spontaneous, it's nice to have a little stability. 

Sincerely, Eleven

The paper is torn at one corner from where something had been messing with it. I feel oddly protective of the note. It's nothing important—just a letter from some boy I don't even know the face of—but I feel like I need to keep it from getting wrecked. This boy put in the effort to write me back, so I don't want his effort to go to waste. 

Cars zoom past me, sending rushes of wind toward the paper, making it crinkle in my hands, but I do my best to keep it flat. I could put it in my pocket to keep it safe, but, every time I start to tuck it away, I pull it back out, needing reassurance that it's there. 

I have to put it away when I reach Cyrus' house, though. He doesn't know about . . . well, anything I've told the letter boy. I guess with Cyrus I've just always felt the need to watch myself to make sure I didn't say too much, which also kept me from really opening up to him. With letter boy—who's name definitely isn't Eleven, but I guess that's what I'll call him—I don't have to worry about anything I say. If I slip up, he doesn't know me, so it doesn't matter. Plus, I don't think he'd judge me if I did. 

Cyrus opens the door a few seconds after I knock, and he greets me with a smile as he steps aside to let me in. 

"Teej," he says. "How was the rest of volunteering?"

"Pretty good," I reply. 

Cyrus closes the door behind me while I take off my shoes. 

"What do you want to do?" he asks me. 

"You still got that ping pong table? I think I've gotten a lot better."

"Yeah? You think you can make a rally last more than three seconds now?"

He grins at his own comment before turning to head toward the stairs. I follow him down into the basement then claim the far side of the ping pong table as mine. Cyrus picks up his paddle and the ball and does the first serve. I hit it back, scoring a point for myself. 

"You have gotten better," Cyrus says. 

"I told you."

He smiles and picks the ball up from the ground to serve it again. While we rally the ball back and forth over the net, Cyrus is able to talk at the same time. 

"So you make origami?"

The question causes me to lose my focus, and the ball whips past me, scoring Cyrus a point. Cyrus is grinning when I look over to him, clearly pleased with his win.