another. There’s no dressing on it. She eats it dry. My plate has a corndog and fries. Bad days call for foods that are bad for your butt. I dip my dog into ketchup and take a bite. I’m not that hungry, but maybe eating something will help me feel better.
Tia looks at me like I’m eating asphalt off the road with a side of squirrel. I snap, “What?”
“Nothing,” Tia responds, glancing down at her own plate.
Millie sighs and glances at me. “What’s wrong? You seem off-balance.” She stabs another piece of salad and turns the leaf over, examining it, before popping it in her mouth.
“Nothing.” Everything . “Today is just turning into crap, that’s all.” My favorite teacher died. I nearly slept with a guy last night, but he blew me off. Oh, and he’s my new boss. What a train wreck.
Tia choses that moment to say, “I heard Tadwick’s replacement already called you into his office. What’d you do?”
“Way to be tactless, Tia.” Millie scolds, shaking her head and spearing more greens onto her fork.
“Who told you that?” I ask, not caring that Tia’s blunt.
“Marshal. He was in a mood after class. He said something about how you pissed off Dr. Grant—”
“ Granz,” I correct.
“Yeah, him, and how you pissed him off already. Seriously, Sidney, what’d you do?” Tia leans forward. She’s sitting across from me and hasn’t touched her food.
I shrug and paint my plate red with the half eaten corndog. Ketchup streaks across the white dish in wide arcs while I tell them, “I don’t know. Granz just seems mean. He probably wants to make a point with me or something stupid like that. You know how teachers are hard-asses on their first day.” That’s usually true. It sets the tone for the rest of the year. A professor who’s a pushover on day one, is a doormat on day two.
Millie’s eyes have been burning a hole in the side of my face. “Well, in light of today sucking, I think we should end the night with some margaritas.”
“You always want to end the night with margaritas,” I respond, still not looking at her. My ketchup resembles a disturbing Van Gogh painting. I could call it, The Missing Ear .
“Well, you’ve needed one lately. Take a hint already.” Millie’s back straightens and she looks straight ahead. Tia ducks her head and eats her food, not looking at either of us.
“Take a hint? What are you talking about?” Millie says nothing. She just looks at me like I should know, but I don’t get it. “Come on Millie, if you’ve got something to say, say it.” I’ve dropped my corndog, sensing a verbal bitch-slap coming on.
She looks as thought she’s going to say something and then thinks better of it. Instead, Millie shakes her head and says, “It’s nothing.”
“No, come on—tell me.”
“I really shouldn’t—”
“Just say it!”
“Fine!” she shouts way too loud for her little body. Blonde curls bouncing, she grips the table and yells, “Nothing makes you happy. Everything I do is wrong. Every guy is wrong. Everyone is wrong. Jeeze, Sidney! You ever stop to wonder if it’s you? I mean, when that many things are wrong, maybe you are the one who’s wrong? Maybe you are the one that doesn’t fit.”
I blink at her. This is as much of an argument as I’ve ever gotten from Millie. On another day, I could have brushed it off. On another day, I might have laughed and agreed with her—but not today.
I stand up and grab my tray. I walk away without speaking. Millie’s words cut me to the core, because out of all the things that are wrong with me, that’s the one that’s been hanging around my neck like a noose. I don’t fit anywhere. Maybe I pretend that’s okay, but it’s not. The isolation makes me crazy. I feel as if I’ve been drifting on a crappy little blow-up boat, and my best friend just popped it.
Millie’s voice rings out behind me, but I don’t stop. I dump my tr ay with my half-eaten food and leave. Pushing through
Tia looks at me like I’m eating asphalt off the road with a side of squirrel. I snap, “What?”
“Nothing,” Tia responds, glancing down at her own plate.
Millie sighs and glances at me. “What’s wrong? You seem off-balance.” She stabs another piece of salad and turns the leaf over, examining it, before popping it in her mouth.
“Nothing.” Everything . “Today is just turning into crap, that’s all.” My favorite teacher died. I nearly slept with a guy last night, but he blew me off. Oh, and he’s my new boss. What a train wreck.
Tia choses that moment to say, “I heard Tadwick’s replacement already called you into his office. What’d you do?”
“Way to be tactless, Tia.” Millie scolds, shaking her head and spearing more greens onto her fork.
“Who told you that?” I ask, not caring that Tia’s blunt.
“Marshal. He was in a mood after class. He said something about how you pissed off Dr. Grant—”
“ Granz,” I correct.
“Yeah, him, and how you pissed him off already. Seriously, Sidney, what’d you do?” Tia leans forward. She’s sitting across from me and hasn’t touched her food.
I shrug and paint my plate red with the half eaten corndog. Ketchup streaks across the white dish in wide arcs while I tell them, “I don’t know. Granz just seems mean. He probably wants to make a point with me or something stupid like that. You know how teachers are hard-asses on their first day.” That’s usually true. It sets the tone for the rest of the year. A professor who’s a pushover on day one, is a doormat on day two.
Millie’s eyes have been burning a hole in the side of my face. “Well, in light of today sucking, I think we should end the night with some margaritas.”
“You always want to end the night with margaritas,” I respond, still not looking at her. My ketchup resembles a disturbing Van Gogh painting. I could call it, The Missing Ear .
“Well, you’ve needed one lately. Take a hint already.” Millie’s back straightens and she looks straight ahead. Tia ducks her head and eats her food, not looking at either of us.
“Take a hint? What are you talking about?” Millie says nothing. She just looks at me like I should know, but I don’t get it. “Come on Millie, if you’ve got something to say, say it.” I’ve dropped my corndog, sensing a verbal bitch-slap coming on.
She looks as thought she’s going to say something and then thinks better of it. Instead, Millie shakes her head and says, “It’s nothing.”
“No, come on—tell me.”
“I really shouldn’t—”
“Just say it!”
“Fine!” she shouts way too loud for her little body. Blonde curls bouncing, she grips the table and yells, “Nothing makes you happy. Everything I do is wrong. Every guy is wrong. Everyone is wrong. Jeeze, Sidney! You ever stop to wonder if it’s you? I mean, when that many things are wrong, maybe you are the one who’s wrong? Maybe you are the one that doesn’t fit.”
I blink at her. This is as much of an argument as I’ve ever gotten from Millie. On another day, I could have brushed it off. On another day, I might have laughed and agreed with her—but not today.
I stand up and grab my tray. I walk away without speaking. Millie’s words cut me to the core, because out of all the things that are wrong with me, that’s the one that’s been hanging around my neck like a noose. I don’t fit anywhere. Maybe I pretend that’s okay, but it’s not. The isolation makes me crazy. I feel as if I’ve been drifting on a crappy little blow-up boat, and my best friend just popped it.
Millie’s voice rings out behind me, but I don’t stop. I dump my tr ay with my half-eaten food and leave. Pushing through
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