Her

21

PHOENIX

I'm like a snail. For a few weeks, Aza has managed to make me come out of my shell, slowly, cautiously. But now I'm realising how dangerous that is. My shell is my safe space; it keeps me from dying. Okay, maybe that is a bit overdramatic, and maybe the whole snail metaphor is a bit weird, but it's fitting. I came out of my shell, decided to trust Aza, but then realised it was a mistake. A huge one. So I'm going back to my shell, back to safeness, solitude, loneliness. And I'm used to being alone, so it can't be that hard to go back to being alone, or can it? At least that is what I try to believe.

I take a day for myself, meaning I skip a day of school. During that day Aza doesn't contact me. I'm glad about it; it makes me surer that my plan of staying away from her is a good plan.

Wednesday. I'm back at school. I'm standing at my locker, hastily putting some books away, when I'm greeted with a playful "Phoenix", which I only know too well.

"Aza," I say, not looking at her.

"How are you? Are you doing better?"

"Sorry?"

"You were sick, right?"

"Right. Yes."

"I missed you."

I look at her. It's been only one frickin day, but gosh, I missed that stupid, beautiful face, and I could slap myself for it. I turn back to my locker. "You did?" I say.

"I did," she says. Then she adds, "Since you weren't there, I couldn't copy your answers."

I laugh, just a little, then I stop. I have to think about how my mother said people only like me for my grades. But Aza is just joking, right? I bite my thumbnail. I don't know.

"So," Aza says. "The project..."

"Yeah?"

"When do you have time? Tomorrow?"

"Well, um..."

"No? Okay, well, how about the weekend? Or -"

"Actually," I say. "We don't have to meet."

"What?"

"Well..." I bite my thumbnail, shut my locker. "I've already finished it."

"What?"

"The project, obviously."

"No, I mean - what do you mean you finished it?"

"Well, it means exactly what I said. I finished the project. We don't have to meet, Aza."

"But - when did you even do that?"

"Monday. When you had to work."

"Oh."

A moment of silence.

"But -"

"I'll hand it in tomorrow," I say.

"Uh, okay."

"Okay."

"Um... Well, maybe, we could still -"

"I have to get to class. Goodbye."

_____

AZA

Thursday. 7pm. Ky's trailer. He's sitting on the couch, playing his guitar; I'm sitting on his bed, editing photos.

"Wanna hear some song snippet I made up?"

"You mean do I want to torture my ears? Sure, go ahead."

He starts playing a slow, dreamy tune, then starts singing in his raw, mellow voice.