I guess part of our truce. And she takes a big sip and smiles. Again. Why?
âI love coming here.â Ellen says something nice, so I look around to see if the park is on fire. Nope. But somethingâs definitely wrong.
âI know?â I say, hoping she wonât hear the question mark.
And she says, âIâm really glad you came with me.â And I donât know where to look. What is wrong with her? Is it even her? Whatâs going on? And I would usually just not say anything, but I do. Why is she glad that Iâm here?
âOkay, Ellen, seriously, what is wrong with you today?â I canât help myself.
Ellen looks over at me really slowly, and I can already see a new spit bubble forming.
âWhat?â she says. And I know Iâve screwed up, but I just keep going, Iâm in too deep.
âYou like things? You like things with me? Whatâs wrong with you? Are you even Ellen?â
Ellen takes a big gulp of water and stops. Iâm dead. Sheâs going to kill me. Iâve finally pushed her over the edge. I donât know if sheâs going to spit it at me or what, but she knows that I am thinking she might, so she stares at me and waits. Waits a little longer, her cheeks filled with all that water, and then at the last moment, takes a big swallow. This time, Iâm safe. Iâve been pardoned. But only for now.
âIâm just having a good day. That all right with you?â She pouts.
âSure, Iâm fine. But why?â I ask.
âI donât know if I should tell you now.â She mean-smiles.
âYouâre going to tell me. Thatâs why you brought me here.â
Ellen sits back on the bench and sort of tries to not be mad at that. One thing that always gets her crazy mad is when she thinks you know what she is thinking or you can tell what she is going to do. She hates that. I am definitelygetting water in the face today, just not yet.
âFine, if you know everything in the world, figure it out,â Ellen snarls at me.
âOkay, um, I donât know.â
âI know you donât.â Ellen pucker-smiles, which is this really gross face she makes with duck lips and a snotty sort of grin. I hate it so much, I want to take my water and go, but I have to guess now. Itâs the trick of that ugly smile.
âUm, youâre moving to Antarctica,â I guess.
âNo.â Ellen pucker-smiles.
âHannah is?â
Ellen laughs. âI wish.â
âTell me.â
Ellen real-smiles and snaps the rubber band of her side brace at me. âThese are about to come off.â
âReally?â I smile back. Thatâs all? Her braces? I thought it was a much bigger deal than that. Why does she have to make me so angry and run all over this park for something so simple and nice as that? Itâs not a big deal but now I get angry about it. Really angry. I want to leaveangry. I donât, I stay and listen as she tells me about the appointment and the retainer, and Iâm smiling and listening, and then it hits me. I know why Iâm angry, and suddenly all my anger turns to sadness. Or jealousy maybe.
When her braces come off, Ellen gets to be something different. Ellen gets to go back to school with something new about her. It probably wonât change her adjective. Sheâll still be super mean, but she wonât have all that metal to make her look so terrifying. I want to be happy for her, because she is my friend, and Ellen hates her braces, even more than most things. She hates not being able to eat stuff and to always be carrying around a toothbrush. And nothing makes any of it better. So I should be happy for her. But Iâm too jealous.
So I lie and say, âIâm happy for you, Ellen,â and sit on the bench and listen to more about her
new me
. And worry about my same old me.
For the rest of the day Ellen and I walk through the park and talk about, well, everything. I
Learning to Kill: Stories