The Boyfriend Who Always Picked Someone Else

On graduation-photo day, the photographer told the couples to stand closer together.

Instead, Bill Henson pressed a hand to my shoulder and steered me to the edge of the group, moving Phyllis Swanson into the spot beside him.

"Phyllis and I are the top humanities and top science students. It makes sense for us to stand together."

It wasn't the first time he'd pushed me aside.

When I brought him questions I'd gotten wrong, he said my basics were weak and I was wasting his time.

But Phyllis was shaky at math, and for her he'd stay up till dawn, breaking every problem down into the simplest possible steps.

When I wanted to study with him at the library, he frowned and said I'd throw off his review.

Yet when Phyllis slipped one rank in the standings, he skipped class to walk with her on the beach.

The photographer teased with a grin: "You two aren't a couple, are you? You look right together, and your grades match too."

Bill looked over at Phyllis, his smile soft and proud. "We've always been the perfect pair."

Phyllis flushed and lowered her head, and the classmates around us started whooping.

I stood outside the crowd, still gripping the number card for the photo I'd wanted to take with him.

The spot beside him was never meant for me.

And now, I didn't want it either.

…

I looked down at the card in my hand, and it suddenly struck me as absurd.

For this one photo, I'd spent a whole night choosing a dress, and even tied my hair up over and over to get it right.

And in the end, I didn't even have the right to stand next to him.

I turned, walked to the trash can, and dropped the card in.

In the homeroom teacher's office, he handed me my scores and patted my shoulder with a smile.

"You did well. Go home and think carefully about your college applications."

He thought for a moment, then said:

"I hear you're planning to apply to schools in New York with Bill? The cutoffs in New York are very high. With your scores, going to New York… isn't really worth it. My advice is to put your own future first."

I clutched the score sheet, thanked him,

and the moment I stepped out of the office, I ran straight into Bill and Phyllis.

They both froze when they saw me.

Then Phyllis hurried over to me, her smile warm and easy. "So this is where you were."

Smiling, she held out the drink in her hand.

"We bought drinks. Bill got one for you too."

I looked down at it.

They were both holding the same jasmine milk tea, the cups stickered as a couples' combo.

And what she was handing me was the mango iced tea that came free with the set.

I'm allergic to mango. Bill knows that.

I twitched my mouth into something like a smile, took the mango iced tea, turned, and dropped it in the trash can beside us.

Phyllis's face stiffened, her eyes reddening, and she looked to Bill, at a loss.

Bill's brow furrowed at once. "Cordelia Fox, what are you angry about now?"

His tone dropped a notch.

"Because I moved you aside just now and let Phyllis stand next to me? That was me. Why are you taking it out on her?"

"I already explained it to you! Phyllis is the top humanities student and I'm the top science student. The two of us standing together is exactly what the school wants for its promotional shots."

"Besides, didn't I say we'd take a separate photo later?"

I looked at him, and suddenly I didn't even have the strength to argue.

He said we'd take a photo.

But once the group shots were done, he never thought of me.

In our classmates' posts, he and Phyllis had taken more than a dozen photos just the two of them.

Everyone whooped for a good ten minutes while he held Phyllis tight and never let go.

Afterward he went with her to the back alley to buy drinks, and then here, to the office, to pick up his scores.

For a solid hour, he hadn't sent me a single message. He'd long since forgotten I existed.