Page 16 of Lessons in Timing

Another text popped in, but in the group chat this time. And it was Delia.

Delia:um exqueeze me hello matt just said you were a cowboy now so pls spill

Skyler:Matthew has misinterpreted the situation, I am not a cowboy

Skyler:I am a model. Who has a proximity to horses. But also doing ranch work. It’s a whole thing

It was the most I’d spoken to her since...since I’d left. It was so easy to fall back into our rapport; I could see her perched on the corner of the couch, stroking Matt’s hair as we watched a film to make fun of—

I wanted to ask how she was doing, how her latest painting was shaping up. But my throat burned, and my fingers were frozen.

Delia:EXPLAIN RIGHT NOW

Skyler:I would but I gotta get to class, first day, ttyl

Matt:wow less than a week there and you’re already snatching jobs and nabbing friends, sooo happy for you

Matt:do good school with whatever it is you decided to study over there

He was furious.

I was contemplating how to respond when Delia private-messaged me.

Delia:hey I know he was kind of bitchy a minute ago but I wanted to make sure you know we are both really proud of you for doing what you want to do, okay? Even if it’s in California. We just miss you and I haven’t forgotten that you owe me $20 from our last poker match, ignore at your own risk

Delia:go to class, I love you!

I stared at her message long enough that the screen went fuzzy, before:

Skyler:love you too.

July 17th

Getting out of bed was hard, but I did it, and even made it all the way to rehearsal. Fortunately, it was a wire-work day, which was mostly for the benefit of the tech-crew and didn’t actually require much from me. At least, intellectually.

“Loosen up!” Maggie, our set designer, assistant manager, jack-of-all-trades and also my friend, yelled at me from down below. “We’re trying to make this lookfluid!”

I tried. But I couldn’t. My entire body was clenched around the idea that Terri was back, and the nightmare of high school was happening again.

Less than an hour spent on social media last night had produced the factual pearl that Terri had officially transferred to Norse-U. He’d been straight-up kicked out of his prestigious East Coast pre-law program, but luckily, our no-standards garbage program had been more than happy to have him.

He was back in town to stay.

Which was a thought that I absolutely couldnotmaintain inside my body.

So I tried to make my bodynotmy body. It was a tool, and I forced it to relax, to let itself swing from side to side like the carefree Peter Pan I was meant to be—as far from that sad helpless little bastard who’d got a face full of paper as possible.

“Better,” I heard Maggie mutter. “Now, less wet rag being shaken, more leaf fleeting on the wind?”

I closed my eyes and let the wires rock me, leaning into the swing and trying to keep each one from ending. Letting every swing be its own endless moment.Fuck endings. Endings aren’t real.

Like how the nightmare hadn’t ended.

Over the years at school, I’d learned to avoid Terri; I’d memorized his schedule every term and had done my best not to call attention to myself: his or anyone else’s. But despite my efforts, it had become an established fact that Terri Bishop bullied Robin Finch—even teachers accepted it with a helpless shrug. The school colors were red and yellow, the mascot was a hedgehog, and Terri Bishop bullied Robin Finch.

I’d spent years hiding my light under a bushel, when all I’d wanted was to set the fucking bushel on fire. But now I was supposed to be able to be my fully authentic, loud, extroverted, and sparkling self.

So much for that.