She didn’t want to go to school, but she had no real excuse.  Grey and Monica were allowed to do what they wanted even if Hannah had wished they hadn’t.  So, that horrible Monday, she pulled herself, or what was left of herself, into the usual pattern.  They would all be standing near the art room door.  She threw her head back and strode right towards the crowd.  She was going to face this like nothing happened.

            “Hi, Hannah.”

            She stopped short as Ezra slid into her path.  “Ezra,” she mumbled, smiling slightly while trying to look over his shoulder.  Were Grey and Monica standing next to each other?  “Hi.”

            “You left sort of quickly Friday.”

            “I’m sorry I didn’t say goodbye or anything…no one saw me, I know,” she apologized nervously.

            “Everything OK?”  He seemed so worried, but it was hard to believe he cared.  It was hard to believe anyone cared when the only person she thought could have turned her away.

            “Yeah.”  She brushed past him and joined the rest of her usual friends.  Stacey, Toby, Gwen, and Grey all smiled in greeting.  “Hey.”

            “Hi.”

            “Weren’t you off pretty quick Friday?”

            “I called you—did you get it?”  Some people she could always count on, she smiled to herself.  Grey seemed a little forced with his weak grin.

            “Actually, Grey, can I talk to you alone?”  She made sure to put every note of her intent into her tone.  He chilled and nodded, stepping forward. 

            “What’s up, Hannie.”

            “I—”

            “Hey, guys!”  He stopped.  Monica slid into the middle of the ring, flashing a golden sneer as she took Grey’s arm and laid the other around Hannah’s shoulder.  She would be more comfortable with slime oozing off her back.  “Anyone finish the math assignment for today?” 

            “Here!” Toby eagerly shoved his paper forward.  Monica grinned sweetly and slid it into her notebook.  Hannah thought she saw Stacey look twice, but that would mean that someone actually didn’t like Monica, and that was impossible.  Hannah cleverly stepped to the side.

            “I need to go.”  Grey suddenly stepped forward again.

            “Hey, listen.”  Hannah stopped, surprised that he had gotten out of Monica’s grasp.  “Why don’t we talk in the art room?”  She could see he wanted to sort this out.  Her mind started racing—maybe it was all a bit mistake.  Monica could have seduced him; he was only human.  A few hours later he would be kicking himself, almost doubled over with guilt because he must really love Hannah.  They walked in silence to the art room as all these excuses swam about her head.  Everyone makes mistakes, everyone slips up.  They stopped at his usual desk in the corner.  He just looked at her with those cool blue eyes, brewing and cooking as she thinned her lip.  “What’s up?” he finally asked, although at that moment it was unnecessary to ask.

            “I saw you Friday night.”  She was proud that she sounded so confident, because inside, she was falling apart.  His reaction said it all.  It wasn’t guilt or pain, but surprise…shame.  He knew he had done it but there wasn’t regret.  Hannah’s eyes began to burn.  He was just ashamed he got caught.  “I saw you with Monica.”

            “Oh…that.”

            “Yeah, that,” she snapped, losing the hurt and getting anger instead.  “You could have told me about that.”

            “I’ve been meaning to, but…but I don’t know, you…you kissed me and then…”

            “What?”  He froze.  His eyes were suspended on something close to his feet.  Hannah couldn’t believe what she was hearing.  This was going on all the way back since when they kissed?  “How long have you been making out with her, Grey?”

            “It’s not like that,” he protested firmly.

            “Then what is it like?”

            “We’re together, all right?”  Her chest felt tight.  “We’ve been together for some time, and I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, but she didn’t want anyone to know.”  Hannah wiped under her eyes, because she could feel the tears although she didn’t remember being upset enough to cry.  “Hannah, you’re my best friend,” he pleaded.  “But this is all messed up.”  Hannah could only think of when Monica had sat there while Gwen told her how she felt about Grey.  “I don’t want to loose you.”

            Hannah couldn’t help what happened next.

            She slapped him, and hard.  If anyone else was in the room (the two didn’t notice in their intensity) they would have jumped.  He gasped a bit, but then bit his lip, and Hannah thought it was to fight the pain.  Her hand was stinging.  Fuming, she stormed from the art room and flew the door shut behind her.  She didn’t care about the hushed taunts behind her.  As soon as she was out of his sight, she fell against the wall beneath the art display case and buried her face in her hands.  At exactly the right moment, Ezra appeared.

            “There you are,” he comforted, sitting next to her and putting an arm over her shoulders.  “Christ, Hannah, what’s wrong?”  Behind them, they heard something crash to the ground, a chair or table.  That was Grey’s temper.  She winced a bit, and Ezra frowned.

            “Everything,” she mumbled.

            “Whatever it is, it’s nothing, I promise,” he replied, pulling her to her feet.  She drew a deep breath; she had cried too much already, and she wouldn’t waste Ezra’s time.  “Come on,” he smiled, “Gwen’s looking for you.”  She brushed the hair from her face.  One quick glance into the display glass, and she liked what she saw.  Hannah and Ezra, cheering up.  Right above her reflection was Grey’s art project.

            A stencil portrait of a girl with curling blonde hair. 

            Hannah walked under Ezra’s arm and tried to forget the image of the icy amber eyes of the picture staring as she left the only boy she had ever really loved.