The Break-Up Artist

17

To: Robert Towne

From: Le Break-Up Artiste

Dear Mr. Towne,

Over the past month, I have made significant progress in the dissolution of Steve and Huxley’s relationship. Huxley, and several of her close friends, are beginning to suspect that Steve is having an affair with an old flame. Doubt and worry are two of my strongest tools. Nothing ends a relationship quicker than making a person override their heart with their warped, paranoid mind. Or at least that’s what I read on a Hallmark card once.

I will, of course, continue to keep you updated.

Sincerely,

The Break-Up Artist

The next day, SDA practice cannot come soon enough. In eighth period, I pull a fresh pen out of my backpack. When I sit up straight again, I find a paper football waiting for me on my desk.

LIFE = OVER

I crumple it up and toss it into my backpack. I don’t look her way.

“Becca! Wait up!”

Val catches up to me in the hall after class. She heaves for air. Sweat mats her hair to her face. She would be so embarrassed if she knew that.

“What’s up?” she asks in a fake, cheerful customer-service-rep voice.

I have places to be, so I give in and cut to what she wants. “Your life is over?” I don’t act concerned. I’m 99.9 percent sure this is a nonissue revolving around Ezra.

“My life is spiraling into a supernova of chaos,” she says. Worry clouds her face. “I don’t know what to do.”

Maybe this is serious. If we talk this out, I’ll be late to practice, but I know my priorities. “What happened?” I pat her shoulder.

Val clutches her two books and one notebook against her chest. “Ezra and I were walking to first period, and when he dropped me off, I kissed him.”

I wait for the rest of her story, but that was it. “So what’s the problem here?”

“Haven’t you been listening? I said I kissed him. He always makes the first move, but he didn’t kiss me this time. I had to kiss him.”

We speed down the side stairwell, our heels clacking against the steps as we get to the first floor. I check the time every few seconds.

“I’m not getting the problem,” I say.

“I had to kiss him. Why did he not try to kiss me first this morning? I don’t even want to think about how I looked, leaning over to lay one on my boyfriend, pulling him in for a kiss like I’m some kind of überfeminist freak.”

“This is the twenty-first century. That’s allowed now. FYI: we can vote, too.”

“Funny,” she deadpans.

“I’m sure it looked romantic.” Or rather like a PDA nuclear spill.

“I didn’t even tell you what happened four nights ago.”

You haven’t been telling me a lot of things, Val, I think to myself. “What happened?”

“We were making out, and Ezra wasn’t kissing me back hard enough. I was being the more passionate one.”

“How can you even judge something like that? He’s a very passionate guy, I’m assuming,” I say.

“I could feel it. He wasn’t kissing like he used to.”

“Used to? You guys have been dating barely a month—”

“Five and a half weeks,” she says. “Almost two months.”

I stop in the main corridor and do a massive eye roll for her rounding skills, and for my stupidity. “Are you serious?”

“I know! I’m kind of scared.”

“Will you stop it, Val. Do you know how annoying you sound?”

Val flips from worry to pissed off in a split second. “Sorry for pestering you.”

Usually I would be fine eye rolling, but I’ve reached a limit on frustration I didn’t know existed. The words spring out of me. “You have. You just keep me around to listen to your fake problems. I’m not your friend. I’m your sounding board.”

“I’ve always been here to talk. You just choose to bottle it up. I thought you were supportive of my relationship.”

“If you keep thinking your relationship is ending, then maybe it is.”

It’s 2:29 p.m. I don’t have time for this. Who knew that I would consider SDA practice a better place to be than talking to my friend? But she isn’t my friend. She’s turned into a relationship zombie, just like the rest of them. “I have to go.”

I skulk off to the locker room. I can’t wait to focus on dancing for two hours and forget this conversation happened.

I slap on a gigantic grin as I waltz through the gym doors. The girls are stretching. Now that we’ve all improved and become well versed with our routines, Huxley isn’t such a stickler about starting on time. Stretching time has expanded into catch-up-with-your-teammates time.

I change quickly and join Huxley and a cluster of girls doing the V stretch on the floor.

“Sorry I’m late,” I say. “I’ve felt pretty lethargic today.”

“Late night?” Huxley asks.

“Kinda, yeah. I went out last night.”

The stretchers lift their chests off the floor. I have an audience.

“Rebecca Williamson out on a school night?” Huxley asks. “I can’t even fathom the idea.”

“Oh, really? I went ice-skating. What did you and Steve do last night?”

The girls are more anxious to hear that answer than my nighttime plans. Huxley plays it cool and takes the added attention in stride. She’s a pro at being popular.

“Steve had to work, so I just relaxed,” she says.

“Where’s there ice-skating?” Reagan asks.

I tell them about the college ice rink and my remedial skating. “But I did it,” I say. “I even took pictures.”

Before anyone can ask to see them, I grab my phone and pull them up. Pictures of me pretending to twirl, pictures of Val and me, of Val and Ezra, all enjoying an above-average Thursday night. I look like some magical fairy. You would never guess I could only skate in three-second spurts.

“Isn’t it a nice rink?” I ask. “I am totally going back.”

Reagan peers into the phone, squinting her eyes to see the real picture. Other girls follow suit. They trade suspicious looks with each other.

I hand them the phone and play dumb. “What?”

“Is that...by those doors...?” Reagan starts then cuts herself off. She looks at Kerry, who nods back at her. They hide their smiles.

“What is it?” Huxley asks.

“Yeah. What did you guys see?” I ask. Wow, I didn’t think my acting was this good.

“Nothing,” Reagan and Kerry say simultaneously.

Huxley and I trade confused expressions. Only hers is real.

“May I?” Huxley asks. I hand over my camera. She scans the photo and remains unfazed. “Looks like a fun time.”

She hands the phone back to me. For all any of the girls know, she saw nothing.

Only I caught the slight narrowing of her eyes.