“I’m not a tool,” he told me softly.
“Tool?” I repeated, puzzled.
“Yes,” he nodded curtly, confirming what he had just said, “I’m not a tool for you to use when Isaac is gone.”
I sat up straight. “I have never treated you as a tool,” I said to him coolly, “As a matter of fact, Chloe told me I should ask, since you were obviously too scared.”
I was true. Chloe had called me as I was on my way to guitar class just now. She did suggest that I ask him. I wasn’t going to, but looking at how much he had changed, I asked him the question so that my old friend would come back.
In our present condition, however, “But since you probably have plans already,” I picked up my guitar case and stood up, “I’ll see you around, Mr.. Kingston,” I spat his name out. I didn’t know why I was feeling so angry. Maybe I was betrayed by the fact that my best friend didn’t trust me anymore.
I walked away.
With dignity.
“You’re not leaving,” Danny told me, as I strode off furiously.
I didn’t turn around. “Oh, yeah?” I questioned him mockingly, “Guess what I’m doing now?”
“Not till you answer me, Taryn.”
It was the first time he had said my name for a long while in that caring way of his. I immediately stopped in my tracks.
“Ask,” I turned around then.
He took a step forward. “Chloe’s right, I’m too shy to ask anyone out. Go to the dance with me, Taryn?”
I studied his face for a moment. I wondered if he was using me as a tool this time. “No,” I told him harshly.
His smile disappeared. “I should have figured,” he said quietly, voice dripping with disappointment.
“Unless…” I let my voice trail off thoughtfully.
He looked at me hopefully.
“Oh, never mind,” I told him. “Just consider yourself with a date to the dance.”
I swear. His smile then could have lit up the whole town.
* * *
“You did it?” Chloe’s shriek echoed around the school’s corridor.
Thank goodness I knew my friend enough to break her the news after school, when no one was around.
“Yes,” I told her calmly, “I asked Danny to the dance. Big deal. And anyway, he asked me himself, in truth.”
“But you said yes!” Chloe exclaimed happily, “I’m so glad you’re finally over--”
“Says who?” I asked her.
“Well, since you agreed and everything, I thought,” Chloe gave me a hopeful look.
I shook my head no. “Sorry, not yet, Chloe, not yet.”
She looked slightly let down, but she forced herself to cheer up, “Well, your friendship is back to normal now, right?”
“I…I’m not sure,” I admitted, frowning slightly, “We haven’t got a chance to talk, ever since we, well, were in the park.”
“Aww…” Chloe sympathized. She knew how it felt.
I forced a smile. “So, come over to my house?”
* * *
“It’s not a big event, Taryn,” Jonathan told me in school.
“I know, Jon, but I have plans that Saturday. Sorry,” I bit into my practically finished apple and threw the core away.
“Are you just avoiding me?” his eyes narrowed, “Because I am seriously inviting you to the family event as a friend.”
I laughed a little uneasily, “Of course not, but I really have something on that day.” In truth, I did have things to do that night. The dance. And in another way, I was glad to use the dance as an excuse to avoid going out with Jonathan.
“Then what?” he asked, still fighting to invite me.
“Danny invited me to his school’s dance,” I told him.
“Fine,” he muttered, admitting defeat at last.
“What’s wrong?” Ryan called out cheerfully, his expression on his face hardening when he saw Jonathan’s grumpy look.
“Nothing,” Jonathan and I both answered in unison.
“Okay…” Ryan’s suspicious eyes traveled to Chloe. He literally switched his lips upside down as he smiled charmingly at Chloe. “Suppose you tell me all about it.”
“Uh…” Chloe looked lost.
I mouthed: ‘don’t’ to her, but I didn’t think she saw it. Either way, she just shrugged her shoulders and replied, “Nothing major, she just told Jonathan she couldn’t go out with him this week because she was going to a dance with Danny.”
I could have sworn I saw his mind already starting to work.
“Ryan,” Jonathan warned, “Don’t do a thing.”
“Me?” Ooh. I could kill him for that innocent look he had on his face.
“Well, I’ve gotta go,” I walked away, telling them, “Science is next period, I need to revise on my notes before I do his test.”
“Good luck,” Chloe and Jonathan wished me.
“Yeah, good luck, Taryn,” Ryan sneered at me as I left. There was something in his tone that I couldn’t quite place. I decided to ignore it, for the time being. Well, at least until I finished the science paper.
Right now, my life was just starting to balance. The only thing I needed to worry about now was whether I should get some friend’s help in physics before the test, or just wing it, since I was going to fail, anyway. Very hard decision.
Oh, right, and I might need to worry about what I should wear to the dance. Yup, that too.
Apart from that, life was not bad. Borderline good.
Not bad at all.
* * *
I had no idea why, I still don’t, but life has a way of throwing lots and lots of problems to students. Namely, me.
I knew it.
Ryan had been plotting something. It was definitely something really good. In fact, he was so confident that he had the nerve to slip me a note. In French. (BTW, this means that it was French class, and he gave me a note in French language.)
Translated, the note read: Good luck. Buy a charm. You’re going to need it.
Now, which idiot would actually translate something like that into French unless he was so certain of himself?
I don’t remember much of what happened after that. The only thing that I can recall from that day was that I received a call from Danny, which was actually not a very good sign itself.
Danny usually, texted people instead of calling. In fact, in all my life I had known Danny Kingston, he had only called me three times.
The first time was when I told him to call me, because my phone was nearly out of credit (just enough money to send one text), and I felt like talking to him.
The second time he called me was when he told me not to confess to Isaac. Which was just a few days ago. And Chloe had told him to call me, kind of.
See? His calls were never voluntary.
This time, it was the third time he called me. And the only time someone hadn’t told him to call.
I picked up the phone, “Danny?” I had asked happily.
“It’s off,” Danny’s voice growled at me.
“What?” I was really confused.
“The dance is off,” Danny told me coldly.
“What? Why?” I was shocked, “Did someone get injured at your school or something?”
He muttered something under his breath. I thought I heard him say: acting so innocent, what a bitch.
I felt heat rise in my cheeks. Did my so-called best friend just call me a bitch? “What’s wrong,” I snapped at him, demanding for an answer.
“I hate you, Taryn, I hate you.”
