T A M A R I S K

[tamarix aphylla] ➳ guilt.  

HIS BIKE WAS MISSING from the rack. I skated an aimless loop around the block, coming up empty save for the realization that Isaac had abandoned me.

At school, our drinks drew every gaze in the hall to my hands. My shoulders sagged and I kept a death-grip on the plastic cups, condensation on my fingertips. I fast-walked to my locker, head down and insides all twisted up.

Leo approached as I placed a folder into my backpack and held my locker door ajar. He smelled nice, if ordinary, like library books and cheap shampoo. "Hey, Ren," he greeted. "Are those for me?"

He nodded pointedly at the drinks on the top shelf of my locker, his expression curious but watered-down. Thinking fast, I passed him the one that should've been Isaac's. "Of course. Do you like Mountain Dew?"

It was dripping wet but still icy, and its contents sloshed when Leo accepted it. He investigated inside the cup, grimacing. "Yeah, but... who has Slurpees for breakfast?"

"Not me," I said honestly, though I took my cup from the shelf regardless. I gently pried his fingers from the door and closed it, snapping my lock into place before facing Leo again. "Maybe it'll be better for you than coffee."

Leo moved away from my locker, adopting a look of resignation. "Maybe," he said, taking a cynical sip from the straw. His brow tightened as he swallowed. "Did you really get this for me?"

"Um," I started sheepishly, turning and watching the stream of students moving through the hall. "There was a two-for-one deal."

His smile was so boyish yet barely there. "Well, thanks, Ren."

I beamed back at him, trying to hide the anxiety that erupted inside of me as I tried to locate the root of the problem: Isaac. I knew I wasn't doing anything wrong, since I paid for the drink myself. But I couldn't help studying every face in the corridor.

As if Isaac would ditch me just to get to school.

Truth was, I didn't know anything about him — what his grades were like, who his parents were, where he lived. And that thought was an advancing storm cloud that never would release its downpour: the anticipation was surely the worst part.

Leo stood next to my locker, arms crossed over his chest. I sucked on my straw, hesitating just briefly before asking, "So what is it with Isaac Marshall?"

He noticeably held his breath before answering, like I was a troublesome child wondering why the sky was blue. "I don't know," he said evenly. "What is it with him?"

"I've heard a lot since you mentioned him that day." For some reason, I was certain Leo remembered our conversation on my second day of school just as vividly as I did. "About him being a drug addict, sleeping with prostitutes... stuff like that."

Leo nodded. "Yeah. Some of that's exaggerated, but nobody knows which parts."

"You think it's possible he's not actually as bad as everyone thinks?"

He snorted. "Have you seen the guy? He barely shows up to class."

"I've seen him," I said defensively. "He was in pre-calc just yesterday."

"He probably just heard about the pop quiz," he told me. "He can't afford to fail. He's already a year behind."

"Really?" On instinct, I glanced at the ceiling when the warning bell went off, signalling five minutes until the start of first period. "How do you know?"

He gave me a funny look and made a move to leave for class. "Everyone knows. He got held back last year. He would be in grade twelve now, but he failed a ton of classes because he'd rather smoke on the soccer field than put effort into anything."

That wasn't right. I knew Isaac without knowing anything about him — I'd seen him top his dog's grave with flowers and heard him throw rocks at my window before the rest of the world was even awake. He was effort defined. 

Leo added, "Why so curious all of a sudden?"

"No reason," I said, releasing him into the busy hallway. The Slurpee was making me queasy and the brain-freeze didn't help. "Thanks for letting me know."

I wasn't sure he deserved the thanks, though, considering I couldn't stop thinking about Isaac after that. He seeped into the pages of Macbeth and every chemical equation. I spent the latter half of chemistry counting down the seconds until I could jump on the only lead Leo had unwittingly given me — the soccer field.

I debated trying to find him. My stubborn half won.

Smoke assaulted my senses as soon as I stepped outside at the start of lunch hour, but none of it was Isaac's. I carried on, trying to ignore all the stoners taking notice of me. I walked along the long edge of the school field and stopped at the bike rack near the front of the building.

Isaac's bicycle was there, parked and chained in its red and retro glory. I briefly admired its rusting paint and plastic seat, pedals that hung loosely at their hinges. It was a wonder the thing moved at all.

But reassuring as it was to know Isaac was at school, this was merely confirmation that he had left this morning on purpose. I didn't understand why he would ask to hang out only to disappear for school partway.

Maybe he didn't want to be late for class. Or maybe he'd simply lost interest. Maybe he'd been whisked away by cops as a preventative measure.

I turned into the school, stomach grumbling and heart a heavy sigh. There was no use thinking it through. As always, it was enough to simply know that he was alive. All these months away, I had grown used to checking on my friends without speaking to them and experiencing all their happiest moments second-hand.

It was strange to think of Isaac that way when we'd only known each other for four days, but it wasn't really a friendship I was missing — more like an opportunity. Now that he was MIA I could admit to myself that he was kind of cute.

I was halfway through the door again when he slammed into me full force and I face-planted into his chest.

Isaac grabbed the doorframe as I removed myself from his proximity, brushing my hair back and choking out a breath. I allowed myself a quarter of a second to marvel at the fact that he looked exactly the same as he had that morning, even without the sunrise to filter out his imperfections — like the wrinkles on his forehead, the caught-red-handed open circle of his lips.

"Shit," he said. "Shit, shit, shit."

I stood in his way, unimpressed as he held up his hands. I didn't have to ask him to explain himself, because he was immediately apologetic. "I'm so sorry, Ren. I screwed up. I was scared —"

"So was I," I exclaimed. "You left me back there without a word. Did you think you could just avoid me until fourth period?"

Isaac's shoulders slumped. I couldn't explain the defeat in his eyes, but he swung his backpack around and unzipped the front pouch. He handed me a brown paper bag.

I snatched it away from him. My stomach growled again when I realized it held my blueberry muffin — I had skipped breakfast and now I was late for lunch. Scowling at him didn't improve my hunger, but I felt a little better for it regardless.

Or maybe that was just my heart swelling to the size of my chest.

Maybe he hadn't meant to leave me after all.

His arm shrunk to his side and he studied me guiltily. "I'm sorry," he said again, over the paper bag crinkling as I scrunched it up with a fist. "I should've said something."

"Yeah," I agreed, glaring at him. "You should've."

Someone tapped me on the shoulder and I finally moved out of the doorway, standing off to the side of the stairwell. Isaac followed, exhaling sharply as a group passed us by. I waited until we were alone before holding up the muffin bag. "You stole this, didn't you?"

He nodded.

"Why?"

"Doesn't matter," he said. "It was a mistake."

"An illegal mistake." I huffed and my hair fluttered above my face. "Did the irony even occur to you or are you just so accustomed to stealing anything you can get your hands on that you just had to?"

Isaac looked pained. "See, this is why I couldn't tell you. I didn't want to implicate you, and I knew you'd make a big deal of it."

"Well, I'm sorry, but I'd like to eat my breakfast without feeling like I'm committing a sin," I retorted, and he cracked a smile. A withered one, but a smile nonetheless.

I couldn't believe this was funny to him, but I realized this whole conversation would've been scarier if it wasn't. "So, what?" I said, more quietly. "You can't afford a two-dollar muffin? Is that it?"

Isaac laughed. "I can afford two dollars. I actually have a job."

"Really?" I was being diverted but was too curious to hold back. "Where?"

He didn't immediately answer. Instead, he stared at the floor, gaze intent on the ripped-up canvas of his shoes. In the momentary silence, I remembered giving his drink away to Leo and hoped Isaac hadn't witnessed that betrayal.

The muffin was warm in the bag and his eyes were molten with shame.

"Forget it," I said, and without thinking about it any longer I latched onto his arm. "I'm starving. You can tell me over lunch."

His eyes widened as I tugged him out of the stairwell.

It was weirdly liberating for him to be the confused one for once. "If you want to make this up to me," I said, "help me pretend I have friends."

"You want to sit with me?" he asked, like a kid invited to a birthday party. I almost stumbled back, but I kept a tight hold of him and squeezed. He was warm, too, but I wondered if the lumps on his skin were the same goosebumps running up and down mine. "Really?"

I withdrew my hands and folded my arms, rubbing my elbows as I quickly whirled away. "Come on, Isaac," I mumbled. "Don't make me regret this."