Chapter 3: The End of Us

“Natalie, why didn’t you wait for me this morning?”

This morning, Caleb was late. After class, he came over and complained, then dropped a bottle of chocolate milk on my desk. The carton was still cold, beads of condensation running down the side.

My hand, which had been scribbling vocabulary, paused. Out of the corner of my eye, I glanced at the bottle. The gesture almost made me smile.

“I already had breakfast. And from now on, I’m not walking to school with you. I get here way earlier.”

Caleb plopped down in the seat next to me, clearly confused. He propped his head on his hand and looked at me: “Did I do something to piss you off? We always walked together before, right?” His voice was soft, almost hurt.

“It’s different now.” I put down my pen, took a deep breath, smiled at him, and said, “You have a girlfriend now. We should keep some space.”

After I finished, his expression froze, then he snapped back: “She won’t care. She knows...”

“I care.”

I told him, word by word: “I don’t want to be the scapegoat if your relationship hits a rough patch.”

“Natalie...”

Caleb actually has a short fuse, not much patience. For him to say this much, he was really pushing himself. He fidgeted with the hem of his hoodie, jaw clenched.

So now, his face went cold, and he suddenly stood up. The sudden scrape of his chair made everyone turn.

His chair screeched across the floor as he left, tossing out, “Whatever you want.”

I ducked my head and closed my eyes. The sting in my chest was sharp, but I forced myself not to cry.

Last night, I sat on the porch in the wind for hours. Should I keep pretending to like him, hanging around like a fool?

Or should the bond from childhood end here? I watched the neighbor’s porch light flicker, thinking about the person I wanted to be.

They say you can’t hide the look in someone’s eyes when they like a person. If I keep following him, it wouldn’t be fair to me or to Aubrey.

No girlfriend wants her boyfriend to have a girl best friend who’s always around. It’s not right to put anyone in that spot.

After that day, Caleb never spoke to me first again. Even when we passed in the hall, he just walked by like I was invisible. Sometimes, I wondered if he missed me at all.

The girl by his side became Aubrey. He introduced her to everyone in his circle. I heard them laughing in the courtyard between classes.

Aubrey was his first love, the girl he really liked. His world shifted, and I was left standing on the sidelines.

I quietly focused on my grades, listening to others talk about their love story. Their voices felt like static in the background.

Because of dance practice, Aubrey sometimes got so hungry at night her stomach hurt. The next day, she’d bring a low-cal dinner her family’s nutritionist made for her. I wondered if she ever missed greasy pizza or drive-thru fries.

A jock from a neighboring school liked Aubrey a lot. A few days ago, after school, he cornered her behind the gym. I heard Caleb beat him up pretty bad. The story made the rounds, and Caleb’s legend grew even more.

This month’s exams, I took first place in the grade again. My teachers posted the results on the bulletin board, my name circled in red.

The teacher once told me not to worry about Caleb, or it would drag down my GPA. She meant well, but it stung anyway.

Caleb’s family is loaded, so grades don’t mean much to him. Money cushions everything in this town.

After school one afternoon, I propped my head on my hand and looked at the blazing sunset outside the window. The sky was on fire, and for a moment, I wished I could run right into it.

“Natalie, what college do you want to apply to?”

On a muggy evening, Caleb sat beside me, his long fingers absentmindedly twirling my hair. I felt my cheeks heat up, but I didn’t pull away.

I answered without thinking: “University of Chicago.”

“That’s so far away.”

Actually, I never told him that I wanted to go to UChicago not just because it’s a top school, but because I wanted to get away from here, away from that house. Sometimes, you need distance to breathe.

My dad, like a lot of men, changed after making it big. My mom refused to divorce, convinced Dad’s cheating was because she hadn’t given him a son. I’d hear their fights through thin walls, even with my headphones on.

Late at night, she’d point at me and cry, asking why I wasn’t a boy. That way, Dad wouldn’t have strayed. I learned to keep my head down and my feelings to myself.

Later, she really did have a son.

Dad only came home for appearances. Mom, with my little brother, poured everything into him.

She felt she finally had someone to rely on, a son to take care of her when she’s old. The house was full of noise, but I’d never felt more alone.

“Hmm... Then I’ll apply to UChicago too. You’re such a dork—if I don’t look out for you, who knows how you’ll end up.”

The boy bragging in front of me was the light in my broken days. I wanted so badly to hold onto that light.

So I was willing to spend all my time on him. Even if I couldn’t get into UChicago, as long as I could go to the same college as him, that was enough. I thought that was what love meant.