Page 89 of My Debacle with De Lorenzo

11. Isabella

November 15, 2018

If Charlotte doesn’tback away in the next ten seconds, I’m going to punch her in the throat. I’m not in a good mood and she is making it worse. Last week, she had the nerve to insinuate that IstoleDylan fromher. She was angry about it, too. She told me she had a good chance with him at the Halloween party and she was just about to shoot her shot when he was forced to go back inside andrescueme because I was behaving like a drunk slut. Those were her exact words. And then when he took me upstairs, I seduced him because that’s what drunk sluts do.

I didn’t retaliate against that statement because it’s partially true. I never should’ve gotten so drunk at that party. But Charlotte has been a bitch on steroids since then, and I have to stop myself from slapping her. I’ve tried ignoring her, but she’s like a tick. She just clings to us, and Lana can’t tell her off because they’re cousins and it will lead to family issues. Charlotte was supposed to be at cheerleading practice right now, but she overheard me telling Lana about how I messed up last week, and now she’s just hanging around, scrolling through her phone and pretending as if she’s not listening to our conversation. I know she’s eavesdropping because this concerns Dylan, and she is waiting for the day that hedumpsme. And I think he did.

Lana and I decided to skip the last period (because we had PE) and laze in the sun like lizards on the benches outside the cafeteria. We’ll probably get into trouble, but that’s tomorrow’s problem. Other problems need solving today. I try to ignore Charlotte and push on with my story because Tommy is going to be here in fifteen minutes to pick me up for work, and I want Lana’s input. As much as I value Tommy’s opinion, he’s a guy, so he thinks I’m overreacting.

“So, he hasn’t called since last Friday?” Lana asks.

“No. And I called him a billion times, but his phone was off. He hasn’t read any of my messages. It’s Thursday already. He hasn’t been to school this whole week.”

Lana shifts on the wooden bench to get under the umbrella. The afternoon sun is gleaming off the cafeteria window, and she’s trying to protect her eyes. “But doesn’t he have a habit of doing that? He just skips school for a few days. I’m sure he’ll be back tomorrow.”

“So, it’s just a coincidence that he stopped speaking to me on the day I had something to drink?”

I let out a small groan because I’m disappointed with myself. I had gone without any alcohol for two weeks by last Friday, and it just felt like something was missing. I still have panic attacks when I get to school, but they’ve been getting milder. It wasn’t like I was edgy or going through any emotional turmoil. I’ve been...happy, so I didn’t feel like I needed alcohol, but I felt like Ishouldneed it. It’s been a crutch for a while, and I felt a little off-balance without it. I asked Lana for her bottle before school ended, then I snuck into the storeroom at work and drank what was left in it.

Regret came the second I finished it. I didn’t get the desired effect. I used to crave the numbness, but on Friday Ihatedthat feeling. Tommy’s disapproving grunt made me hate it more. And then Dylan showed up. He had a game on Friday and wanted me to see him play. That’s when I felt like the shittiest person alive, because the way he looked at me showed how disappointed he was. I apologized, and he said he wasn’t mad but that was a lie because he left a few minutes later, and I haven’t heard from him since.

“I don’t think he would stop talking to you because you had one drink,” Lana replies. “It’s not a big deal.”

Of course, Lana would say that because drinking isn’t a big deal to her, but Dylan wouldn’t have included it as part of the contract if it wasn’t a big deal to him. I just can’t get over the feeling that I’ve messed up badly, and I didn’t mean to. I didn’t know he was going to come to the store. This is why he told me I should be someone else’s problem because I tend to screw up like this on the regular.

I just wish he’d be upfront and tell me to my face. This ghosting is anxiety-inducing and childish.

“He has to surface eventually,” Lana assures me. “And I’m sure there’s a valid reason why he hasn’t called you.”

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