Page 11 - My FlipBook

90 days of different

happened. I was trending. Luke was probably posting
photos of his freedom celebration on Instagram. I was only
on Facebook, and I never looked at it. Ella would report
back soon enough about how this was playing out on all the
social media.
It was a relief driving away from the school. It was like
I was leaving behind a bad memory. Is that what Luke had
done? Had he managed to wreck my memories of high school?
“You know I never liked him,” Ella said.
“You always made that clear.”
“Remember, any guy who has that many hair-care prod-
ucts is not somebody a girl should want to be with. Guys like
him should come with a warning label. Beware—danger of
over-involvement with my hair, unable to become involved in a
meaningful relationship with another person.”
“I’m not sure if I’m supposed to be encouraged or upset
that he likes his hair better than he liked me,” I said.
“Don’t take it personally. I’m positive he likes his hair
more than he likes his friends or family. That boy never saw a
mirror he didn’t look into.”
More than once I’d caught him glancing at his reflection
in windows and even adjusting the rearview mirror in the car
to check out his hair. He did have nice hair. Nice everything.
“You don’t have to feel embarrassed,” Ella said.
“I’m not embarrassed.” There was no point in trying to lie
to Ella. “Not much.”
“You’re not the first person to be dumped.”

“That sounds so bad. The dump. Where you put trash or
things you don’t want. I guess that’s how he felt about me.
He didn’t want me.”

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