Verse by Moses Roth Page B

out to the sports field. It’s too cold for anyone to be out here and all the reporters and picketers are in the front.
    I pace across around the grassy fields. Soccer nets have been set up in front of the field goals. I lie back against a net and look up at the grey sky. I pick at the net with my fingers.
    She says, “I thought I might find you out here.”
    I sit up and turn around.
    Iris is standing by the goal post and I say, “Oh, hey.”
    She says, “Surprised you, huh?”
    I nod, “Yeah,” and clumsily extract myself from the net.
    She comes to face me and says, “How are you doing?” placing a hand on my arm.
    I shrug.
    She says, “Do you want to be alone?”
    “No.”
    We walk across the field to the bleachers and sit down in the first row.
    We sit in silence. It’s nice, just sitting with her.
    This is the first time I’ve been alone with her since that night. I’ve been waiting for a moment to talk to her. I guess this is it if I want it. It makes me queasy to think of saying it.
    Ugh. Just do it.
    Finally I say, “There’s—” just as she says, “Hey—”
    I stop and she stops and I say, “You first,” when she says, “You go ahead.”
    We laugh awkwardly and I insist, “You first,” and she nods.
    She says, “I didn’t really have anything— I was just gonna say that you’re gonna get through this and that you’re not alone. We’re here for you.”
    “Who’s ‘we?’”
    She lowers her eyes and says, “Well, me.”
    I feel a little nauseated at that and maybe I feel a little less alone.
    She says, “What were you going to say?”
    And I say, “Well, I wanted to say that I’m sorry I kissed you.”
    “What?”
    “You know, freshman year.”
    “Oh, that’s okay. You know, you were just kind of an asshole afterwards.” I laugh. She says, “You ignored me and acted like… I don’t know, we were young and stupid.”
    “So you weren’t offended that I kissed you?”
    “No. I mean I was surprised. It was kind of awkward. You know… but we didn’t have to stop being friends.”
    I say, “Well, I wanted to say I’m sorry for kissing you, but the truth is I’m not. I’m sorry I was a jerk afterward, but I’m not sorry I kissed you.”
    “Manuel…” she says.
    But I say, the world tunneling in on me, “Because I love you.”
    And I look at her, but she won’t look at me.
    She says, “Manuel, you’re the most interesting guy I ever met. And I really like you. But I don’t feel that way about you.”
    I stand up and walk back inside.

Chapter 38
     
    School ends and I don’t want to go outside and deal with the crowd. So I find an isolated corner in a hallway, sit on the grimy carpet, lean against the wall, and work on my homework.
    I study Calculus, then English, then for the History test on the Battle of Stalingrad.
    A door opens and I look up.
    Sydney’s walking down the hall, away from me. I forgot he’d be here, he must be waiting for his dad.
    Oh man.
    I need to talk to him.
    I stuff my notebook in my bag, get up and sling it over my shoulder and run after him, the bag bouncing.
    “Sydney!” I yell.
    He keeps walking, out the door.
    “Sydney!”
    I push through the door.
    He’s the only one out there, thank God.
    He’s pulling a cigarette out, and I say, “Hey,” and touch his shoulder.
    He whirls, pushing me back, “Don’t fucking touch me.”
    “Hey, come on—”
    “What?”
    “Look—”
    “Don’t—”
    I say, “I’m sorry.”
    “Leave me alone.” He puts the cigarette in his mouth and digs for his lighter.
    I say, “What can I say?”
    “Nothing. What do you think? You say you’re sorry, I say I’m sorry, and then we’re just gonna be friends again?”
    “You don’t have anything to apologize for.”
    He says, “You know what I did? What I told them?”
    I say, “I lied too. I lied first.”
    “You were lying the whole time.”
    “No, I mean, I thought I was— I mean, I wasn’t lying, but I was wrong. So I misled you