had fights before, but you’ve always stayed together.”
She looks at me in an almost condescending manner. “Emily, I know you don’t understand this. But someday you will.”
Make that an extremely condescending manner.
“Okay,” I say. “Call me later if you need someone to talk to, okay?”
She nods. “Okay. Thanks.”
She goes back to her classroom and I go into the bathroom where I take out my phone and call Andrew.
“Heya. We need to talk.”
Chapter Forty-Six
Once again I am leaving school early in an attempt to sort out someone else’s life. I meet up with Andrew outside his school just before his lunch-time is over. He has a study period after lunch he can get away with missing. I have forty minutes to talk some sense into him.
We are sitting underneath the trees beside their basketball court, amid cigarette butts and empty crisp packets. I say, “Honestly, Andrew, what were you thinking, proposing to Lucy?”
He looks embarrassed. “I thought it’d be romantic. Besides – you know I’m . . .”
“Madly in love with her,” I supply.
“Yeah.” He grins. “I wanted to show her that, because sometimes I don’t think she gets it. I mean, everyone’s always going on about how cute and sweet we are and how we’re going to get married eventually – and by everyone I mean mostly you,” he adds, and I laugh. “And we don’t really talk about it, but sometimes we’re like, we should just go and get married to shut everyone up. And I started thinking, well, she’s the one person I really want to spend the rest of my life with – so what’s the point in waiting?”
I nod. “Yeah. I see your point.”
“Of course, it turns out that she clearly doesn’t feel the same way,” he says bitterly, “and that she’s basically just been wasting time with me for the last two years.”
“It’s not like that.”
“It feels like it.”
“Andrew, she loves you. You know she loves you. Her eyes light up whenever you’re around and she can’t stand being separated from you for more than a day . . .”
“Although she does seem to manage. How many times has she cheated on me?”
I sigh. He’s got a point. “A few,” I admit.
“How many times with you, even?” he asks. “I mean, she just does whatever the hell she feels like. I should have known she wouldn’t say yes.”
“She’s scared,” I say.
“Of me?”
“Of committing herself. Of saying to someone, ‘Yes, I love you, completely and utterly, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you, and be faithful to you’. It’s tough. It’s tough enough for people in their twenties and thirties to say it, and she’s eighteen, Andrew. She’s worried about whether she’s going to get the points to do what she wants in college. She doesn’t need to be thinking about this stuff right now, and neither do you.”
“Emily, you really don’t get it –”
“I am sick of being told that I don’t ‘get it’. What I ‘get’ is that two people I really care about are going to fight about something completely ridiculous and destroy the most amazing relationship I’ve ever seen. And I don’t want to see that.”
“You’re really one to be talking about destroying relationships, aren’t you?” he asks.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I ask, confused. “Hugh was the one who ended it with me, remember?” Unless – unless Hugh has been telling people about the night after Sarah’s party, and how I led him on and played games, and Andrew sees his point of view. I start to feel slightly sick. Stupid Hugh, stupid Hugh – I’m angry. Of course I’m angry. I’m angry that he made me feel guilty about it, that’s what. And yes I can forgive him, and yes I can still be friends with him, but I will never forget, and it will never happen again. I will never let myself be manipulated like that ever again, by anyone.
Andrew is staring at me. “Not Hugh.”
I’m confused. Only – oh, no,
She looks at me in an almost condescending manner. “Emily, I know you don’t understand this. But someday you will.”
Make that an extremely condescending manner.
“Okay,” I say. “Call me later if you need someone to talk to, okay?”
She nods. “Okay. Thanks.”
She goes back to her classroom and I go into the bathroom where I take out my phone and call Andrew.
“Heya. We need to talk.”
Chapter Forty-Six
Once again I am leaving school early in an attempt to sort out someone else’s life. I meet up with Andrew outside his school just before his lunch-time is over. He has a study period after lunch he can get away with missing. I have forty minutes to talk some sense into him.
We are sitting underneath the trees beside their basketball court, amid cigarette butts and empty crisp packets. I say, “Honestly, Andrew, what were you thinking, proposing to Lucy?”
He looks embarrassed. “I thought it’d be romantic. Besides – you know I’m . . .”
“Madly in love with her,” I supply.
“Yeah.” He grins. “I wanted to show her that, because sometimes I don’t think she gets it. I mean, everyone’s always going on about how cute and sweet we are and how we’re going to get married eventually – and by everyone I mean mostly you,” he adds, and I laugh. “And we don’t really talk about it, but sometimes we’re like, we should just go and get married to shut everyone up. And I started thinking, well, she’s the one person I really want to spend the rest of my life with – so what’s the point in waiting?”
I nod. “Yeah. I see your point.”
“Of course, it turns out that she clearly doesn’t feel the same way,” he says bitterly, “and that she’s basically just been wasting time with me for the last two years.”
“It’s not like that.”
“It feels like it.”
“Andrew, she loves you. You know she loves you. Her eyes light up whenever you’re around and she can’t stand being separated from you for more than a day . . .”
“Although she does seem to manage. How many times has she cheated on me?”
I sigh. He’s got a point. “A few,” I admit.
“How many times with you, even?” he asks. “I mean, she just does whatever the hell she feels like. I should have known she wouldn’t say yes.”
“She’s scared,” I say.
“Of me?”
“Of committing herself. Of saying to someone, ‘Yes, I love you, completely and utterly, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you, and be faithful to you’. It’s tough. It’s tough enough for people in their twenties and thirties to say it, and she’s eighteen, Andrew. She’s worried about whether she’s going to get the points to do what she wants in college. She doesn’t need to be thinking about this stuff right now, and neither do you.”
“Emily, you really don’t get it –”
“I am sick of being told that I don’t ‘get it’. What I ‘get’ is that two people I really care about are going to fight about something completely ridiculous and destroy the most amazing relationship I’ve ever seen. And I don’t want to see that.”
“You’re really one to be talking about destroying relationships, aren’t you?” he asks.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I ask, confused. “Hugh was the one who ended it with me, remember?” Unless – unless Hugh has been telling people about the night after Sarah’s party, and how I led him on and played games, and Andrew sees his point of view. I start to feel slightly sick. Stupid Hugh, stupid Hugh – I’m angry. Of course I’m angry. I’m angry that he made me feel guilty about it, that’s what. And yes I can forgive him, and yes I can still be friends with him, but I will never forget, and it will never happen again. I will never let myself be manipulated like that ever again, by anyone.
Andrew is staring at me. “Not Hugh.”
I’m confused. Only – oh, no,
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