The Tragedy of Loving Jamie Clarke by Rebecca R. Cohen Page A

want him to leave. People always say you shouldn’t leave angry. Or is it you shouldn’t go to bed angry? Whatever it is I don’t want to do it. I want to fix this and I want to fix it now.
    “It’s fine. I’ll talk to you later,” Jamie says and slams the door shut.

 
     
     
    -11-
     
    “He’ll forgive you sweetie, they always do,” my mother says as she slides a brush through my hair. “He just needs time to cool off.”
    "What if he doesn't?" I whisper, afraid my father will hear me.
    I haven't told him about the fight. When Charlie and I used to fight I would tell my dad and he would always flip out and say things like, "I'll kick his scrawny little ass if he hurt you!” Or "Did he try something? Oh just tell me he tried something and I'll make sure he never gets near another girl again!" The truth is, my dad is not a violent man. I'm not sure he's ever been in a real fight before. He claims that when he was in high school he fought the school bully and won, but every time he tells that story mom always giggles. Still, I'd rather not put any negative thoughts in his head about Jamie so that when we reconcile they will still be buddies.
    "He will," mom says as she slips on her felt mouse ears that she has worn every year even if she isn’t dressing up as a mouse, and pushes a stray piece of hair into a bobby pin. "Men are more sensitive than they would like you to think. Trust me I am sure he is having as hard of a time about this fight as you are."
    "I'm not so sure," I choke back the lump building in my throat. “What if this is the end of Jamie and me? No one else is going to look at me the way Jamie does. He’s the only person in my life who looks at me and sees more than just a girl in a back brace.”
    Mom enters the frame of the mirror and I can see both our reflections. I never realized how much we look alike. I guess this is what my future self will look like. It could be worse, right?
    “Oh, April. No one looks at you and sees only a girl in a brace. They see you, the wonderful, bright, charming, writer that you are. Jamie is special but he isn’t the only one who knows how incredible you are,” mom insists. "Having your first fight with someone is tough but I promise you everything will work out. You'll see." Mom pats my shoulders and kisses the top of my head as she exits the mirror. "Now get dressed and make sure you wear your dancing shoes because this mama wants to cut a rug tonight!"
    She waltzes out of the room with her imaginary partner and I muster a giggle. I'm still miserable but it is an important night for my parents so I have to go. Besides it gives me an excuse to wear my favorite Minnie Mouse costume. I’ve been wearing the brace for 23-hours a day for several months now so since tonight is a special occasion Dr. Meresh feels that I could leave my brace off for the party.  It is a relief to not have the weight of the plastic and metal resting on me. The bars, although not directly on my shoulders, put a lot of pressure on the rest of the brace and I often feel sore right before bed, like I just went to the gym. I’ve got that whole sexy-mouse vibe going on tonight, although it would be a lot sexier with the glisten of the translucent stockings rather than the mournful vision of the black leggings. It is a shame that Jamie isn't here to see this. I have played the fight over in my head a hundred times and each time I do the more I realize how selfish and stupid I was being. I wish I could hit rewind and be meeting up with him after the party. Instead I am going solo and coming home to an empty room.
     
    The Anchor looks magical tonight. White twinkling lights are strung up along the main business and ocean-view walkways leading to each of the guest rooms. It looks like a Christmas paradise even though it's a Halloween-themed event.
    “Still no word?” my mother asks quietly as we approach the twinkling restaurant.
    I can hear music blasting from inside and see faint