Cheerleaders Don't Cry

Epilogue

3 years later

Marcy Hannon

It wasn't a breakup.

We would've had to actually have been dating for it to qualify as an official breakup. Anytime that I tried to have the serious "relationship" discussion with him, Wade would silence me with a kiss and say something hipster about disliking labels. I thought it was cute at first, but by month five of us being together, it became clear that he wasn't looking for a girlfriend.

And tonight, that fact became painfully obvious when I rounded the corner of the kitchen and found him with his tongue down some freshman's throat.

Wade was the first person to talk to me when I transferred to MIT; second if you counted Kathy Jefferson, who was my lab partner in thermodynamics and also, surprisingly, my assigned roommate. Her last roommate had dropped out after getting pregnant during the winter semester of sophomore year.

Kathy wasn't too happy when Wade started sleeping over.

"Couldn't you date a guy who isn't a complete tool?"

"We're not dating."

I didn't deny the part about him being a tool. Wade wasn't exactly famous on campus for being a gentleman. But he was a genius at electrical engineering and I was a community-college transfer aiming for A's in that department, so it wasn't too bad of an arrangement.

I didn't expect to start liking him. I didn't expect it to hurt when I saw him with other girls.

Finals week for the spring semester was in full swing. I'd already studied and memorized as much as I was capable of, so Tuesday night I headed over to a party at a popular off-campus apartment complex. I knew that Wade was there from the posts on his Snapchat.

And he was.

Making out with some girl I'd never seen before.

It felt as if I'd been punched in the chest. I hated him - more than usual, anyway.

Somehow I ended up here, hiding in the cold bathtub of a dim bathroom, the stained and faded blue-green shower curtain pulled across the rings. My legs hung over the edge of the bathtub but the curtain nearly obscured me from view, aside from the toes of my sneakers.

The frigid feeling of numbness spread from my chest throughout my entire body. People came in and out of the bathroom periodically but nobody noticed the girl crying in the bathtub - or if they did, they didn't care.

Until a hand pulled back the curtain.

***

Albert Cooper

I was going to fail my advanced electrical engineering class.

I'd known for several weeks that I was going to fail it. I had a 71 in the class at the moment, but Professor Jenkins was famous for giving extremely difficult final exams and I'd already received a poor grade on the lab exam. It'd be a miracle if I even finished the class with a 65.

I'd spent the weeks leading up to final exam week cramming my brain with the contents of my textbooks. I had safe grades in all of my other classes - but even if I'd had a year to study electrical engineering, it'd be of no use. Every time I reviewed the material, it became more confusing and my understanding of it became more warped. I'd probably give myself a better chance at passing if I stopped looking at the textbook.

Of course I did what every college student does when faced with a challenge - I went to a party. A popular off-campus apartment complex was hosting parties every night of the week. Tuesday night, I made it my mission to relieve every last trace of stress from my mind.