You'll Be the Death of Me

by Karen M. McManus

Nobody should be that good at so many different things. It doesn’t build character.

are people supposed to abandon potential soul mates just because of a few socially constructed complications?

You can be right in principle and still wrong in approach, Mom used to tell me when I’d get frustrated that other kids in student government wouldn’t follow my lead. Nobody likes to feel steamrolled.

“What—and I cannot stress this enough—the fuck is going on with you?”

A trace of color returns to Ivy’s cheeks. Without realizing it, Charlie just gave her a much-needed shot of energy. Getting called smart is her own personal Red Bull.

They were still magnets vibrating in each other’s presence, but—I flipped them. All the things that used to draw them together started pushing them apart, until they were so far away from one another that I was left standing alone in the middle.

I thought what I’d done was a ripple on a pond, something that would be barely noticed and easily forgotten.

“I’m leaving,” Ivy says. I shrug with pretend nonchalance. “This isn’t Logan Airport. You don’t have to announce your departure.”

I preferred extreme failure to admitting I needed help.