“First of all, when Oliver and I get into his car to head to rehearsal after school, he goes, “Just so you know, Whitney and I are finished.” “Wait, what?” He jerks one shoulder up around his ear in response. So that’s why we were walking so fast after school—he didn’t want to chance running into her. “When?” “This morning.” “Hang on. You broke up with Whitney this morning? Why?” “Why are you freaking, Spider? You hated her. Everyone did.” I hadn’t realized I was that unsubtle. “I didn’t hate he...r. I just—” “You did and it’s cool. She’s an albatross, anyway. I just got sick of her shit.” “Her usual shit, or extra shit? I mean, is it about the band?” He lets out a long, irritated sigh. “Just shit, man. She’s not my girlfriend anymore, so I don’t see why we need to talk about her any further.” This is one of the extremely irritating aspects of being friends with boys: their utter refusal, or perhaps inability, to divulge any kind of important information when it comes to matters like this.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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