1: 1
After the SATs, the whole class decided to go to the paintball club together.
We'd team up in pairs, one guy and one girl, and the winning couple would take home a matching couple's bracelet.
I started toward my girlfriend, Margot Henson, without even thinking about it. She went and stood next to Chester Harding, the class heartthrob, instead.
Chester slung an arm around her shoulders, grinning wide.
"Sorry about this, Seb. Margot and I are used to gaming together."
"Somebody with two left hands like you, rich boy, would just drag her down."
Thirty-five people in our class, and in the end I was the only one without a partner.
But I still made it to the final ring.
When only three players were left, Margot suddenly messaged me that her stomach hurt.
I hurried out to find her, and caught a faceful of green paint head-on.
Chester jumped out, howling with laughter.
"You're out, Seb! Wow, you look like a green-shelled turtle right now."
"Told you you were stupid. Margot pretends to be a little sick and you actually fall for it."
Seeing me frozen there, Margot's brows drew together.
"Chester's had his eye on that bracelet. I promised I'd help him win it."
"You already win enough on every exam. It's just a game. Don't be such a sore loser."
I watched Chester slide the women's bracelet onto her wrist while everyone whooped and egged him on.
And Margot, a smile at the corner of her mouth, didn't refuse.
Turns out it wasn't just one game I'd lost.
……
The green paint was smeared across my face, some of it in my eyes, stinging until tears welled up on their own.
The deskmate jumped, then rushed over.
"Seb, are you okay?"
He shouted to ask if anyone still had tissues, wanting to wipe me off.
The class monitor shook his head.
"It's hot out, everybody's been sweating, the tissues are all gone."
"Miss Henson always carries a handkerchief on her, but she's a germaphobe and hates anyone touching her things. She probably won't want to—"
He didn't finish. He shut up mid-sentence, his face gone awkward.
I turned to follow his line of sight.
It was Margot, wiping Chester's sweat with her handkerchief, frowning as she did it.
"You played so hard your makeup's all smudged."
Chester gave a little laugh. "Well, someone wanted to give you a bracelet as a graduation gift. I'm not loaded like Seb, I can't afford diamonds."
The handkerchief picked up some foundation, but Margot didn't mind. She folded it neatly again and tucked it back into her shirt pocket.
"Compared to certain people who leech off their family's money like a freeloader, something you earned with your own effort is the best kind."
I stood there clutching the hem of my shirt, humiliated.
My deskmate wiped at my face with his sleeve and muttered under his breath.
"Damn, what's Margot's problem? Since when is being rich a crime? Your grades aren't any worse than hers."
"So the germaphobe thing depends on who it is. Is she really your girlfriend?"
I gave a tight, humorless smile. "Maybe."
But I couldn't stop my eyes from landing on the bracelets they both wore, glinting harshly in the sun.
Margot had told me she didn't like childish things like that.
Last White Day, I'd made a special order at the counter for a matching pair of diamond pendants, meaning to give hers as a gift.
Margot glanced at the brand and laughed, mocking.
"Seb, are you scared people won't know? Not only was my grandfather your family's driver before he died, now I'm a dog you get to leash with your fancy little collar too?"
"I'm not your servant. I don't need your handouts. Pull another childish stunt like this and I'll move out on the spot."
Margot's parents died when she was young, and her grandfather drove for my family for over ten years.
When the old man got sick and passed, my family took her in to look after her.
I figured she was just sensitive, so I apologized to her for a long time, said I hadn't meant it that way. She wouldn't so much as look at me.
Now, though, she didn't find it childish anymore.
Margot walked over and looked my face over.
"I asked. The club's water is off today. Just hang on and wash it off when you get home."
Not one word about the handkerchief she was carrying.
I looked at her. "You're wearing a couple's bracelet with him. So what does that make me?"
Margot's brows knit with impatience.
"They're just two bracelets in pretty much the same style. Can you stop acting like those people whose brains melt over relationships, slapping some boring meaning onto every little object?"
"Besides, it's not like you're short on accessories. Every one of yours is worth more than this. No need to fight him for it."
My nails dug into my palm. I worked up the nerve and asked the same question my deskmate had.
"Margot, am I really your boyfriend?"
The classmates around us all held their breath and looked over.
Margot's expression stalled for a beat, her voice cool.
"Seb, only someone insecure at the core needs the whole town to know just to feel safe."
"You really should take a lesson from Chester. He's never like this."
Bitterness crept up my throat.
Here it was again.
She would never acknowledge what we were in front of other people, like it was something shameful.
Because Chester was loudly demanding she squad up with him for a game, he ended up in my seat again, easy as that.
I sat in the back of the car, listening to Chester flame his own teammates over the mic.
"Big deal, your girlfriend fights your battles for you. Like anybody else doesn't have a girl backing them up!"
He nudged Margot and pleaded softly.
"Come on, come on, goddess. It's the principle of the thing. Save my ass here."
Margot shot me a glance, like she was hesitating.
But in the end she still switched on her voice chat and said, flatly:
"Bad? Then practice more. Don't like it, solo me."
I suddenly laughed.
Right. Chester didn't have to beg for reassurance the way I did, because someone would always give it to him freely.
Turns out the germaphobe act isn't the only thing that depends on who you are. So does what you are to her.
