How to Get Rid of Your Ex Girlfriend

As it transpired, Sophie did tell people.

And let me tell you, it was pretty bad. Uncomfortable stares seemed to follow us wherever we went. People muttered things to their friends, some of them even going as far as laughing while they did it. Conan Green knocked me with his shoulder as he passed by in the hall, giving me a glower and an almost indistinct “fag”. I had the feeling it would have been worse if Ms. Fallon hadn’t been standing nearby.

As the day wore on, I got angrier and angrier. What right did they have to talk about us like this? What exactly had we done to them? They couldn’t change us! We were gay because we were born that way!

Then I reminded myself that we weren’t actually gay, merely pretending. Still. People are idiots.

The first five periods of the day passed without too much happening. Chemistry, Spanish, World History, Lunch, English. It was during Dance that it happened.

Now, let me impress upon you that I hate Dance with a passion. Our school forces us to take as least one arts course each year, and I chose Dance. It was either that or “Still Arts”, which is just a fancy name for drawing, painting, and hateful teachers, because apparently I wasn’t qualified for Drama. Turns out, this class might even be worse than Art. Here’s how it usually goes:

Mr. Dumas: Warm ups! Now! (switches on bad 80’s music)

Me: (to Tyler) His name sounds like dumbass.

Tyler: And that jumpsuit…

Dumbass Dumas: Adams! Fischer! I said warm ups, now!

Me: Yes, Mr. Dumbass…whoops, I mean Dumas.

(cue laughter)

Dumas: Do your fucking warm ups!

And after warm ups, he forces us to learn dance routines that, when performed best, make us seem like a horrifying mix between ballerinas and slowly dying shot people. The smiles he forces us to wear add a serial killer aspect.

Anyway, on this particular day, we were practicing a routine to some old disco song. Dumas was standing behind us, screaming at us to correct our poise, getting quite red in the face. I watched my reflection in the mirror as I tried to dance. My face wore the expression of one who had just smelled something particularly nasty.

Oh yeah, Green’s in this class too. Another reason to hate it.

“Hey Adams! I thought fags were supposed to dance good!” he jeered, stopping mid-spin to leer at Tyler. Dumas watched happily, because he likes to see us humiliated, tapping one foot to the beat and grinning.

Tyler kept dancing, though he turned a little pink in the face and bit his lip. Personally, I thought he was pretty good. At least compared to me. If you haven’t caught on, I don’t dance.

“Shut the hell up, Green,” I muttered through gritted teeth. I knew it could spark something bad, but I couldn’t help myself. I didn’t care about defending myself, but of course I’d step up to help my best friend, no matter the cost.

“What was that, Fischer?” He took a step closer to me.

I kept dancing. Maybe if I was lucky, he’d come closer so I could kick him during a dance move and make it look like an accident. “I told you to shut the hell up.”

Green ignored this. “Stepping up to defend your boyfriend, are you?”

“You bet I am.” I smiled, hoping this would incense him.

“Well, I told you he dances like crap,” he drawled. “Whatcha gonna do about it?”

“Don’t…” Tyler warned, but I had already stopped dancing and taken a step toward Green and his smirking face, hot anger forcing my hands into fists.

“You want to hurt me, you insult me, got it?” I growled.

Green shrugged. “Nah. I’m just expressing my opinion. Your boyfriend is a loser. He’s just a dumb fag. No one likes him.”

“Say that again!” My voice rose. We were squaring up. “Say that again, and I swear-”

“Adams. Is. A. Loser,” he ground out, leering at me with his hateful icy eyes.

I took a deep breath, trying to keep myself from flying at him.

It didn’t really work.

º º º

Of course, I found myself in detention later that day. Since Green is Dumas’ favorite student, he got off, which irritates me beyond belief. And apparently because Tyler had been the “source of the commotion”, he got detention too.

But I’m glad he’s here. It’s so much less boring in detention when you’ve got your best friend to talk to.

I kicked back my legs and crossed them on my desk. Next to me, Tyler laughed. We both knew if Ms. Fallon, who supervising detention today, found me like this I’d get in big trouble, but I didn’t care. If I got detention again, I don’t think I’d mind that much. I do spend half of my afternoons in here. I’m a naturally chaotic person, so I tend to cause a fair amount of trouble.

The far corner of the classroom was our corner. Sometimes Tyler wasn’t here, but at least Sam usually was. Vickie ended up here every once in a while too, often because she had decided to spray-paint the side of the building or brought a squirrel into class.

“Are you ever going to thank me for coming to your defense?” I joked.

Tyler frowned at me, the kind of frown that parents give their children when they’ve been bad. “You should have just ignored it.”

“Aren’t friends supposed to stand up for each other?”

“You didn’t think I could deal with it? Listen, I don’t really care what people say about me.” He looked at me thoughtfully. “It’s better to ignore them.”

“Still, I don’t like hearing people say stuff like that about you. Especially when it’s not true. You’re not a bad dancer – way better than me, at least.”

He leaned over to whisper in my ear. “Sorry all this pretending stuff is causing you so much trouble.”

“It’s no problem,” I said instantly. “As I said, friends always help each other.”

Tyler’s mouth curved into a smile. “Thanks.”

“No problem.”