“Here’s the ugly truth,”

I tell Seth after school.

“Trey never really

cared for me.

He just wanted

to add me to his list.”

I ball my fist,

fighting back the tears.

Seth slips an arm around me.

“It’ll be alright,” she chokes out.

“Besides,” she adds,

“he’s not worth the dirt

under your fingernails.

He’s a supercilious, joyless jerk.”

Clearly, Seth’s been

hitting the dictionary again,

which makes me smile

in the middle of my cry,

which is exactly why

I love her.

Later that week,

I finish up an essay for English

as my cell phone rings,

putting a period on my homework

for the night.

It’s Seth, of course,

calling to remind me

about Youth Group Video Night.

“It’ll probably be lame,” she says.

“Ya think? Bet you anything

it’ll be The Princess Bride.”

“Again!” we say in unison.

“Come hang with me anyway,”

pleads Sethany.

“We always have a blast.”

“Escuchame, pero

yo no hablo Ingles,” I say.

“Girl! Quit it!”

We ping-pong words

back and forth awhile

before I finally say yes.

I can’t help but smile

at the ease of it,

feeling like we’re almost

back to normal.

His heart must be

a light switch,

something he turns on and off

whenever the mood hits,

‘cause here he is,

weeks later,

pressing another girl

up against the hall lockers.

I can’t fly by

fast enough.

What was that line again?

“You’re killing me, girl.

You know I’m falling

in love with you.”