Page 42 of Lonely Hearts Day

She walked over and kissed me on the top of the head. “Love you.”

“Love you too.”

“Where is your game of pin the knife on the heart?” I asked Troy with a smile. He was pouring a bottle of Sprite into some sort of fruity mixture. I’d gotten there early, thinking I could help. But that was a mistake because all I was doing was watching the door.

“That game does not exist at a co-ed party. But I have an even smaller closet than yours that you and Jack can occupy for seven minutes. Just say the word.”

“Is that why you herded us in the closet all those times? Because you knew Jack liked me?”

“Not the first time,” he said. “The first time was to be funny. And it was. But after I saw how you both reacted then yes, it became about forcing one, or both of you, to admit your feelings.”

I looked at the front door again. Did Jack still have those feelings? Or had they died a slow painful death over the last year?

“He’s not coming until seven,” Troy said, calling me out.

“I know,” I said.

But he didn’t come at seven. Or seven-thirty. He didn’t walk in until seven forty-nine. He was wearing a deep green, long-sleeved shirt with jeans. His hair was tamed, his black framed glasses were on, and he wore a large smile as he greeted the people sitting on the couch in the living room.

I couldn’t hear what he said because Troy had the music on louder than I’d ever played it at my parties. And I was sitting on the back patio where a game of ping pong was happening next to me. Like actual ping pong with paddles. No Solo cups involved.

Jack hadn’t seen me back here yet, and, considering he was forty-nine minutes late, I decided to stay in my seat and wait for him to come to me. Out of the corner of my eye, I watched him weave through the crowd until he found Troy at the table playing a real-life game of Guess Who. Players would each pick an unaware person in the room and then try to guess who the others picked. I sensed there were going to be some hurt feelings at some point when someone asked something likeIs your person always taking selfies?OrDoes your person need to get a haircut?But it wasn’t my party, so I kept those opinions to myself. I didn’t have to control everything.

Jack leaned close to Troy and said something then Troy pointed my way.

I quickly averted my gaze so he didn’t see me carefully watching his every move.

I smelled Jack before I saw him. He smelled exactly like he always had: like that green deodorant and those little scent balls he put in the washing machine. He sat on the arm of my chair, his leg millimeters from my hand. I shifted in my chair to look up at him.

“Hi,” I said.

“Hey,” he returned.

“How’s the puppy?”

“Very needy. But I made Topher stay home tonight to watch him. That’s why I was late. It was a fight.”

I nodded. He stood up to Topher. That was new. Or it could’ve been a year old; I didn’t know. That thought made my throat tighten. He dug something out of his pocket and held it in his palm where I could see it was a wadded-up piece of paper.

“What’s that?” I asked.

He meticulously unfurled it, trying not to rip it in the process. When it was mostly back to its original shape, he held it up for me to see. It was the poem I had written and thrown away earlier.

“Where did you get that?” I asked, but I already knew the answer. Either Laney or Troy had dug it out of the trash and given it to him. I already knew they were traitors. “Whendid you get that?”

“Troy chucked it at my head on the way to my car after school.”

“It’s supposed to be terrible.”

A smile spread across his face. “Mission accomplished.”

“It was a joke. To make fun of the ones we hear every year.”

“I understood the joke.”

“I wrote it before I heard yours.”

“Why did it meet such a terrible end?”