Kate Walker

"I just don't really see us going anywhere, Kate." Shelton leans sideways against the locker. He shouldn't be leaning, not when he's so obviously breaking up with me — even if his eyes are apologetic. My heart pounds, pushing a lump up my throat, which is going to be a problem when I have to talk.

Shelton's black hair is cut short. Perfect for a young African American guy heading off to college for great things. I think he took a picture of Obama into Super Cuts and said, "One day I want to be that guy. Make me look like him." He continues, "We're going to different colleges. We're about to graduate ... you know."

Now I need to play cool. Save face. I mean, it's not like I thought we'd get married or anything. Well, my brain might have known we wouldn't, but my heart doesn't know the difference. This stings, burns, and takes my breath away. But I'm determined not to show it.

I swallow a few times, trying to get rid of enough of the stupid ball in my throat to answer. "Well, yeah. I mean, we're in high school, heading to college ... I get it." I hate that I basically repeated what he said, and I still feel like I'm getting kicked in the chest.

"We probably shouldn't have gotten so involved in the first place." He exhales. "You know, with how temporary everything is at this time in our lives." He sounds like he's saying something rehearsed.

Now the ache in my chest is being replaced with something else, something that tenses my shoulders, my sides. I start to get kind of pissed, but I'm going to stay cool. What else can I do while standing in the senior hall while Shelton Ingram breaks up with me? I run a hand through my hair, mostly for something to do. For thinking time.

Wait. "What about prom?" It's in like six weeks. I spent half my savings for a dress. One I knew he'd like.

"It would be awkward. Don't you think?" His eyes catch something behind me.

I whip my head around to see Tamara smiling at him. A junior, long, blond hair. With the little bit I know of her, she seems ditzy and so beneath someone like him. As soon as she sees me turn toward her, she walks into the nearest classroom.

"Nice." I cross my arms as my eyes meet Shelton's again, but I'm determined not to make too much of a scene, not to let him see how much he's hurting me.

"What?" He raises his brows, which is a dead giveaway that he's trying to look innocent.

"If you liked someone else, you could have just said it." Why do boys feel it necessary to play stupid games? And it doesn't seem like Shelton, anyway.

He leans back. "That's pretty mean right? And ..."

"And lying isn't?" I uncross my arms and have to stop myself from shoving him.

"We're not getting anywhere." He shakes his head and walks off. That's it. Walks off. We've been dating for over a year and I thought everything was fine.

I hate that I don't have it in me to scream and yell. Instead I take a few deep breaths to keep from crying, which only sort of works. I blot a few tears away.

Must keep busy.

I know I have work in subjects other than AP English (like AP Biology or AP Chem), but I know it's the only class I'll be able to do any homework in tonight. I grab my overworn copy of As I Lay Dying, and stuff it in my bag. The lump in my throat and my pounding chest have left me weak. Defenseless. This sucks.

* * *

"How aren't you more surprised?" I wipe my eyes over and over as Jen drives us home. She's my best friend. She should be outraged — like I should have been when Shelton and I were in the middle of breaking up.

"How's your blood sugar?" she asks, tossing her long, blond ponytail behind her. Jen has these blue eyes that actually glow, and they make mine feel like muddy brown. Just like her bright blond hair makes my pale brown even plainer. Jen's also always dressed, while I seem to live in variations of jeans and T-shirts. But we balance each other out, and we've been friends forever. And we're going to college together at USC in the fall. All those things are worth a lot.

Wait. Blood sugar?

"Really? That's what you're worried about?" I hate it when Jen's meticulous nature makes her sound like my mother.

"Only 'cause the senior picnic is in a few days, and your mom gets all crazy with the curfews and letting you go places when you come home and your blood sugar is all out of whack. I want to make sure you can come."

"Fine. I'm fine." I hate dealing with shots and carb counting, and everything that comes with being Type I Diabetic. Hate. Everything. And I've only been dealing with it for a year, but unless there's some miracle cure, I'll be dealing with it for the rest of my life. Mostly I'd rather think about how inconvenient it is right now. A future with it is too overwhelming.

"Okay, so he mentioned it to Toby last night, who mentioned it to me this morning, so I knew it was coming." She cringes in the driver's seat as if I'd hit her or something.

"And you couldn't warn me?"

She grimaces. "My phone ... remember? And I tried to find you between classes but you were totally MIA."

Right. She got caught texting me in class yesterday, so her parents took her phone after the teacher called ... Oops.

"I gotta make a stop at my house for Honor Society stuff."

"Fine." I slump lower in the seat. "But I'm staying in the car."

"Because you're grouchy. I know." Jen smirks before stopping in the driveway.

I want to smile at her expression, but I'm determined to wallow in my sucky day for at least a little longer.

"Be right back!" She leaps out of the car and runs to her front door.

I slump in my seat and stare at her enormous, grey house. We're parked under the separated garage, and someone peers out from the apartment above. Our eyes catch — his blue eyes are pale, and I suck in a breath. The curtain drops and his face disappears. I didn't know anyone was living in there. We use it for late movie nights and sleepovers. It's awesome 'cause it's not attached to the house, and we have privacy.

How many late nights did Shelton and I have in that apartment? The thought sends another hard stab through my chest.

"Okay. I have that Honor Society Meeting at Shelton's house." Jen frowns as she jumps back in the car.

"Don't look like that. You're in Honor Society leadership. He's Mr. President. I get it." Maybe I should be mad, but that's ridiculous. They work together. Them and like five other people. I know this.

She blows her hair off her face. "I really need my phone. Writing down all my calendar schedule stuff in a paper planner is really getting old."

I roll my eyes. Only Jen would miss her phone for the calendar.

"Ready for home?" She pulls back into the roadway, so I guess it's good that I am ready for home.

"Who's in the apartment?"

Jen shifts in her seat, but doesn't make eye contact, which isn't like her. "My cousin's with us for a little while."

"Which cousin?" Since she's reluctant to share, I want info.

"Aidan?"

I think I met him once, but I'm not sure. He's a year or two older if I remember right. I'm about to ask more, but we stop in front of my house (which looks like a brown one-story toy after being parked in front of Jen's). I want to be mad about my day, but really it all still hurts too much.

I stand up out of the car...