Dump Him, He's Trash.

I lowered my face to look stare down at my lap, not wanting Chris to see me blush. There was no doubt he was the cutest, most coveted boy in school…and for good reason too. 

“So what do you say, huh?” he asked. I lifted my gaze to meet his and was greeted by those two deep, green oceans. God, I how I would have loved to dive into those welcoming waters. 

“Yeah. I mean, yes, I’d lov—like to go to the movies on Sunday. I just, I have to make sure I’m free. So, like, I’ll check and get back to you?” I exhaled quickly, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear and biting my lower lip to stop me from babbling on.

He smiled, flashing a row of perfect, white teeth. The sight felt like a gift that I didn't know what I had done to deserve. 

The hallway was bustling with activity and our raffle table was busy, but in that moment, I couldn’t take notice of anything but Chris. He leaned in closer to me and the mint on his breath was hypnotic. 

“Ayesha,” he started in a low voice, “I really want to make Sunday something nice and special. I mean, I like you, you know?” 

My breath hitched in my throat at the realization of what he was saying. I said nothing in response—I couldn’t—I just sat there, dazed, waiting for him to continue. And he did.

“You’re not like the other girls in this school, you’re different. I like that.” He was right, I was different. I glanced to my left where Rachel and Emma—the queens of Borden High’s social committee—were seated, tossing their hair and laughing with a group of footballers who had been at our table far longer than they needed to be to buy a couple of raffle tickets. 

I had always wondered what it was like to be like them. To turn heads everywhere they went. To walk around the school with a confidence that could convince an onlooker that they owned the place and everyone in it. To wear miniskirts and crop tops and have perfect hair and perfectly done makeup. To have hot, athletic boyfriends to walk hand-in-hand with through the hallways.

But, the girl who was known for her participation in the drama club and loved art class wasn’t a Rachel or an Emma, she was an Ayesha. A plain, nerdy, sits-in-the-hallway-with-her-band-friends, bespectacled Ayesha. The thought that a guy like Chris could be interested in a girl like me made my stomach flutter.

Chris cleared his throat, snapping me out of my fantasy of walking hand-in-hand down the halls of our school with him. “But you know, as much as I want to make Sunday special, I just don’t have the dough for it right now. Know what I mean?” As the daughter of hard-working immigrant parents who had not just me, but my two younger siblings and my elderly grandmother to support, I did know what he meant. I nodded in response.

“Help me win the raffle money and I promise, I’ll make Sunday really special.”

My body went stiff. I searched his face because he must have been joking, right? His expression told me that he was dead serious.

“Chris…I can’t do that.”

“Sure you can,” he said simply. He grabbed a red marker off the table and marked his ballot with a small smiley face before dropping it through the slit in the top of the box. “You help me win the raffle this Friday and we’ll celebrate with a movie and a nice dinner on Sunday.” He wasn’t asking me anymore, he was telling me. 

“Five hundred dollars is a little more than what you would need for a dinner and a movie, don’t you think?” The words were barely escaping my constricted throat. 

For just a moment, I thought I saw a shadow come over his expression. It cleared as soon as it came, making me second-guess myself. “I could really use it,” he said, “my car needs repairs…the car I’ll be picking you up in on Sunday.” He flashed me that glorious smile again and the thought of seeing that smile from across a table over a single, lit candle sent me soaring. 

“Okay. Okay, fine. I don’t know how I’m going to do it, but I’ll make it happen.” The statement left a knot in my stomach, but somehow there was still a little space for my butterflies to continue to flutter.

He straightened up, towering over me, and blessed me with a small wink before rejoining the group of football players, who were headed back to their lockers. My gaze followed his strong back and broad shoulders, until I was met by Rachel’s stare. I lowered my eyes quickly, embarrassed for being caught checking him out.

For the rest of the day, replayed that wink in my mind, so there was no room for the feelings of guilt I felt, for an action I hadn’t even taken yet.

***

Members of the social committee flitted about the empty classroom like an army of worker bees, counting cash and pollenating their spreadsheets. I glanced over at the large box of raffle ballots, feeling a deep sense of dread weighing on my organs, making it hard to breathe. I’d spent all week pushing away feelings of worry and guilt with images of Chris and I talking, eating, laughing, touching, kissing… And over the days, I’d grown weary. Fantasies of my date with Chris had gone from welcome invasions of my brain during long, boring lectures, to a movie I was being forced to watch time and time again; a tired plot and a predictable ending. 

I looked up from my tedious job of putting coins into paper rolls to see Rachel and Emma sitting near the front of the classroom. Those girls weren’t known as the queens of the social committee for no reason. Their social status at Borden High caused them to behave like they were royalty among their lowly subjects (or maybe vice versa, I wouldn’t know). While the worker ants slaved tirelessly to ensure everything was in order for the raffle draw that was about to take place, Rachel and Emma sat regally on adjacent desks. Emma looked relaxed; semi-reclined with her hands placed firmly on the desk behind her and her long, gleaming legs crossed at the ankles, swaying back and forth. Rachel looked equally relaxed and maybe even a little bored; she sat scrolling through her phone, her shoulders and sharp collarbones exposed by her off-the-shoulder top.

I tore my gaze away from the ethereal-looking girls, not wanting to be seen gawking. They were undoubtedly beautiful and I couldn’t help but to question why Chris would want to go out with someone like me, especially when I was sitting beside Rachel and Emma for easy comparison.

Trying to shake away my doubts, I pulled out my phone. 

“Can’t wait to hear my raffle number announced over the PA today. We’ll celebrate on Sunday ;)” Chris’ text read.

I’d seen his message over an hour ago, but couldn’t bring myself to respond. How was I going to ensure that I would be the one drawing the winning ballot? I figured that Rachel or Emma would want that role. That easy, glamorous task that would make one of them the centre of attention, as they generally always were. 

Without much thought, I walked over to them. Although I wasn’t popular, I wasn’t exactly shy or timid, either.

“Hey—Rachel, Emma—mind if I draw the raffle ballot?”

Emma couldn’t be bothered to look at this lowly subject; instead she looked at Rachel, who was still staring intently at her phone. 

“Mm…I think Rachel wanted to do that. Rach?”

“No, I don’t care,” Rachel responded without looking up, “she can do it.” Her tone was sour and her face was screwed up with irritation. I shifted uncomfortably, unsure as to weather or not this emotion was directed at me or at her phone.

“Okay, great. Thanks!” I said quickly, before they could change their minds. I turned back to my table before they could see the smile spreading across my face; if only I’d known that the task I had been agonizing over all week would only take ten seconds to accomplish. I tucked the few remaining coins into paper sleeves before heading to the front of the classroom where the big raffle box sat, in all of its glorious, tacky decor. I drew a breath, removing the lid from the box, and my eyes landed immediately on a small smiley-face, drawn in red ink.

“Don’t you want to let everyone know that you’re drawing the winning raffle ticket?” Emma’s voice cut through my thoughts, startling me.

“Actually…” I hesitated, beads of sweat breaking out on my forehead. I didn’t want to draw any attention to myself as I committed my crime. “Well, I think I’m just going to write the raffle number down and then go straight to the office so they can announce it over the PA.” Rachel looked up from her phone to raise an eyebrow at me; both girls looked equally confused. “Because, um…because then everyone will find out who the winner is at the same time. You know, keep it a surprise!” I laughed nervously and tugged at the hem of my oversized t-shirt.

Rachel looked back to her phone in disinterest, while Emma said nothing, turning her back to me to rummage through her bag for something. I took that as my green light and exhaled deeply, looking again to ballot marked in red ink. I reached toward it.

“God, he is such an asshole sometimes!” Rachel spat, practically slamming her phone down on the desk beside her. I snatched my hand back again, pretending to look for something on the table. My nerves were jangled; I wasn’t sure how I would accomplish this simple task when I was such a nervous wreck.

“Who?” Emma asked.

“Chris, that’s who.”

I froze. I couldn't help myself; I strained to listen as she continued.

“I’m just sick of this, you know? I’m sick of all the sneaking around.” She lowered her voice to a whisper, her words unable to be heard by anyone in the classroom except her friend Emma…and me.

“I don’t get it, Em,” her voice was shaking, was she crying? “You know, we’ve been seeing each other for, like, over a month now and he keeps telling me we’ll make it official soon. We’ll let everyone know we’re together. But he can’t right now because he’s just not ready, apparently.”

Emma rubbed Rachel’s arm in a futile attempt to comfort her now nearly sobbing friend. “And then, you know, I told him I have an important family dinner on Sunday and I really wanted him to be there. And he finally agreed to come. I was so excited, I told my parents and everything. And then what does he do? He cancels! He just fucking cancels.” 

A sob escaped her throat, her voice was weak and defeated, “Em, do you think he’s sneaking around on me? Oh my god, I can’t even—“ unable to finish her sentence, she buried her face in her hands, shaking, while Emma hugged her. Others in the classroom had begun to take notice of the commotion taking place and averted their eyes uncomfortably. 

I stood there, staring blankly into the raffle box at the little face smiling ominously up at me from the darkness. How could I have been so stupid?

In one swift movement, I snatched up the marked ballot from the box, shredded it and tossed it into the garbage bin behind me. Rummaging hard through the remaining ballots, I grabbed one at random and started toward the door of the classroom. But, something stopped me in my tracks.

I turned back to look at the distressed girl. 

“Rachel?”

Both girls’ heads snapped toward me; Rachel’s mascara-streaked face looked stunned.

“Dump him,” I said simply, “he’s trash.”

I strode out of the classroom, both girls staring after me.