His Girl Friday

I finish all my classes by two-thirty on Mondays. Since she’s a senior, Friday gets out around one. She calls me every Monday at three. We talk till four-thirty. Then, she goes to cheerleading practice at five. We’ve never tried to do anything on a Monday; it’s just unspoken that Monday is phone day. The conversation is usually pretty happy and fun. We just talk—about nothing in particular, about everything.

Today, I sensed a difference. I couldn’t tell whether Friday was pissed or sad. Either way, it was highly unusual. She’s such an upbeat person, even when something’s bothering her. So, when I heard her monotone responses that barely made it above whispers, I knew it was something big.

“Friday, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” she mumbled. I could almost detect a sad attempt at her usual soprano.

“You know I know better than that,” I coaxed.

She sighed heavily. “I’m thenewmascot…”

I just heard a jumble of small sounds. “What? I can’t hear you.”

“I’m thenewmascot…” she broke off into another unintelligible mumble.

“Friday, I—”

“I’M THE MASCOT, OKAY?! THE GODDAMNED MASCOT!”

I hadn’t expected that. The problem or the outburst. Friday doesn’t yell.

“Oh, um…” I wasn’t sure how to reply. “That’s, uh, that really sucks,” I finished lamely.

“Yeah! It does!” I heard her cough lightly. Then, there was a sniffle.

I paused to listen before asking, “Friday…are you crying?”

“No.” Her voice came out small and pitiful.

“Yes you are. Do you want me to come over? I can be there in five minutes.” I started collecting my shoes and jacket from their various resting places.

“No, don’t. I’ve got practice.” She cracked on the last word. Through the phone, I heard her try to stifle a rattling sob.

I made my decision. “You’re upset. I’ll be there in five. No arguments.”

“I-I-I,” she stammered.

“I’ll see you then. Don’t worry. I’ll be there soon. G’bye.” I hit the end button before she could retaliate. “I love you,” I whispered.

If she really doesn’t want me there, she’ll call me back.

I left my dorm room quickly. I think I passed Nel and Rodd in the hall as I ran to the exit. They said something to me, but I didn’t hear them. I just stuttered out something about the library closing early. They’ll forget before I see them again.

I threw myself into my old Honda Civic, a hand-me-down from my father’s friend’s son—or something like that—and sped off like a maniac. Maybe I was overreacting, but I was panicky. I’d never heard her cry before. Friday is strong. There must have been something more to it than the mascot. She wouldn’t breakdown over something as small as that. I know her. Last I’d seen or heard from her was Friday, the day we tried to get some together time in before her weekly date with Brett. A lot could have happened over the weekend or at school today. Something could have happened on their date. I was worried.

I turned onto her street carefully, but no less quickly, and made my way down the road. Her parents would both be at work and her younger brother and sister, twins named Melanie and Creighton, would be at daycare. We’d have the house to ourselves. We should have, anyway. As I got closer to her house, a glint of red flashed between some trees that blocked my view. I parked parallel to the curb and got out. The red truck looked familiar, but I couldn’t place it. It certainly didn’t belong to anyone in her family.

I rang the bell when I approached the side door. I heard hushed voices. Friday peered out at me.

“Friday, what’s going on?”

“Sh!” She stepped outside, closing the door behind her. “He’ll hear you.” Her eyes were red and puffy. I could see that through her makeup.

“Who?”

“Brett.”

I was taken aback. “What’s he doing here? I thought he worked out on Mondays.”

“So did I. He just showed up. He’s in the bathroom now, but he’ll be out any second. You have to leave.”

I believed her, but I wasn’t going to let her off that easy. “Not until you tell me what’s wrong.”

“Skelly, this isn’t the time or place. I have practice.” Her voice had returned to normal since I’d spoken to her a few minutes earlier.

I grabbed her arm comfortingly. “You don’t get upset easily. Something big is bothering you.” I tried to look her in the eye, but she glanced away nervously.

“I want to tell you. I really do, but—”

She was interrupted by Brett calling through the house. “Babe? Where’d you go?”

“I have to go back in. And you have to leave.” She pulled away.

I didn’t run away like she’d hoped.

“Now!” Friday shoved me and she opened the door to slip back inside.

“Wait! Friday!”

She turned, an urgent glint in her eye. “What?”

“I-I…I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Yeah. Now, go!” She shut the door behind her and I was left alone in her carport.

I just stood there for a minute, trying to understand. We tell each other everything. What could possibly be so awful or embarrassing? I was worried…and torn. Half of me wanted to go in—despite Brett’s presence—and find out what had happened that had harmed her so deeply. The other half told me to be logical and just leave. Friday would tell me when she was ready. The second half was right. I ran quickly to my car, hoping Brett wouldn’t see me through any windows, and got in. As I started the ignition, I spared one last glance towards her home. I noticed a light flicker on from the other side of the house. I knew which window it was: Friday’s bedroom. The curtains swung shut before I caught sight of anything. I sighed as I put the car in Drive and drove away.