Trinity (21)

Pearl frowns at me, and it’s then that I realize that I’ve been scrunching up my face.

“What?” Pearl asks, her tone lurching from discomfort to defiance.

I open my mouth. “Why?”

Suddenly Pearl pulls away from me, jolting to her feet and plopping down sideways in her desk chair. Her arms are folded as she looks down on me. “Why?” she scoffs. “I don’t know. What’s that supposed to mean?”

I twist my hands in my lap, wishing she was still sitting next to me. What a dumb question. Why? Because she likes Amber, that’s why, you idiot. That’s what people do.

“If you think it’s wrong, then we don’t have to talk about it,” Pearl states, spinning to face the wall.

“I--”

“Pearl!” A sharp voice is coming from downstairs, her mom. “We’re going to the store. I need you to watch William!”

Pearl shoots up from her seat and throws her door open. “Bring him with you, I’m studying with Trinity!” Pearl shouts back.

“You know he hates car rides! Just do this one thing for me,” her mom yells back. I know that tone from my own parents: exasperation.

“Fine!” Pearl flings the word like a throwing knife. I freeze, not dumb enough to not sense conflict.

We hear the front door open, then close.

Pearl mutters something under her breath, then leads me downstairs to the living room. There’s baby toys everywhere, and in the middle of them is a light blue blanket and a little boy: William. He’s sitting in one of those baby-chair things, silently scribbling in green and yellow crayon on both a notebook and the surface of the coffee table he’s seated in front of.

Pearl sits down on the ground next to him and begins to color with him, but her lines are confined to the notebook pages, at least.

“I didn’t mean ‘why’ like that,” I start tentatively, perching on the edge of the couch nearby. I have to scoot a plastic truck and a stuffed dog out of the way.

“I’m not sure there’s many ways to mean why,” Pearl snaps without looking up. She’s scribbling thick red lines in between William’s yellow ones.

I sink in on myself and fish for words. “I meant… I just didn’t expect it. In general. Not because it’s Amber, just because it’s… anyone.” I stare at the floor, realizing it’s the truth, even if it is naïve. I’m surprised that she’d wanted to kiss anyone, because I thought we were more similar. How could she want things that I didn’t want? And when did this happen, us becoming so different?

“Sure, because if I said that I’d kissed a boy you’d have the same reaction, right?” She glances up at me, but I think it’s only because my phone has chimed. I check it, and she huffs. I’m surprised to find that it’s not either of my parents.

i just heard that u like kelly??? confirm or deny???

I’d exchanged numbers with Maggie at her birthday party, but I hadn’t expected her to text me. Or, text me this, at least. I click off my phone.

“You know why I never talk about crushes with you? Because in fifth grade I told you during recess that I liked Max Griffiths and you laughed so hard that you almost fell off your swing, and Kelly had to come over and ask what was so funny.” I can see Pearl’s grip on her red crayon tightening. “And, for obvious reasons, I didn’t tell you about girls, and you never talk about boys or girls or anything, and for a while I thought maybe that you had something you might be hiding, like I was, but of course not, because you don’t hide things--”

A loud buzz cuts her off, and she jumps in surprise, the crayon in her hand snapping in two. William swats his tiny hands at the broken crayon and begins to cry, and the buzzing comes again, reverberating through the house. Doorbell.

Pearl scoops up her baby brother and attempts to shush him, but he only gets louder, and she stands too quickly, knocks into the table, and sends coloring supplies scattering. She swears, and, carrying a bawling William on her hip, heads to the front door.

I stand but don’t leave the living room.

I can’t hear what Pearl’s saying to the person at the door, but William has stopped crying and a few minutes later Henry enters the room. “Hey Trin,” he greets, then stretches out on the section of couch that I’d cleared off earlier.

He looks different outside of school. I almost hadn’t recognized him. He’s got on ripped black jeans and a large t-shirt with a band logo I don’t recognize and a dangly chain necklace with a cross hanging off of it. I realize in that moment that I’ve never seen him in regular-people clothes before. Not ever. Only the school uniform and the football uniform and the dress clothes he wore to the Spring Fling.

Pearl enters next, trying to extract William from her person. He’s clinging to her pink cardigan with tiny fists and apparently surprising strength.

Suddenly I feel strange that I’m still in my school uniform. Then again, I don’t have anything else to change into.

“I can go, if you two are doing something,” Henry says as he leans back into the couch. His eyes skip from Pearl to William as she reseats him in front of his coloring.

Pearl folds her arms. “It’s ok. Trinity was leaving soon anyway, I think.”

I shift on my feet and meet her gaze. She’s staring back at me, her big eyes accusing. “No, I wasn’t.”

“Then maybe text your parents.”

The sharpness of her words make my eyes prickle, and I turn away and shove my hand into my skirt pocket and pull out my phone. I hesitate when I see Maggie’s message, then swipe it away and text my mom.

“So, Henry, what’s up?” Pearl asks.

When I look up, Henry is turning his head between the two of us, Pearl on one side of the room and I on the other. He runs a hand through his hair. “What’s up with you?”

She snorts, then lets out a bubble of laughter. Then waits. Then speaks. “Well. I haven’t told you this, but I just told Trinity… that I kissed Amber. It was after the Spring Fling. After you both had left. And--” Her voice breaks, and I stare at her from across the room.

She’s tugging at her ponytail and staring into the ceiling light, eyes shiny. Henry gets up and wraps his arms around her. Suddenly Pearl is sobbing into him.

“I thought she liked me,” she admits through tears.

“I’m sorry. Hey, you’re too good for her anyway, we could all see that,” he says into her hair. Henry is raising his eyebrows at me over Pearl’s head, and I have no idea what he’s trying to communicate.

“I hate her. I miss her,” Pearl says thickly.

Henry squeezes her, then releases her so he can look her in the eyes. “I know,” he tells her.

And even though Pearl’s sopping up tears with her cardigan sleeves and I know I should be doing something about it, all I do is watch Henry Foley hold her. Somehow, I’ve done everything wrong. Again.

.

.

.

(first part: https://theprose.com/post/432343/trinity)

.

(previous part: https://theprose.com/post/444775/pearl-20)

(next part: https://theprose.com/post/446860/trinity-22)