Me, You, & The Party Rock Crew

“Ignorance is your new best friend.” Paramore, Ignorance, 2008.

The hallways are bustling with students chatting, there’s the occasional slam of lockers, sneakers squeaking against the tile, laughter, and a random girl crying to her best friend about her homecoming date dumping her. It was high school and things were back to normal after homecoming festivities. Izzie had just made it to the water fountain after biology, filling up her water bottle at the “freshman water fountain”. Just before she could pick up her backpack to swing around again, a hand caught her shoulder. 

“Iz–you won’t believe what went down in English today,” Simon’s voice is annoyingly chipper. 

“Jesse finally bit the big one,” Izzie’s voice was flat, there was no emotion to her voice, and Simon, being as perceptive as he was, picked it up. He still played it off, however. 

“Well, no,” he leaned onto the wall that was near the “intersection” between the freshman and senior hallways and he was bold for leaning up against it. 

He maintained this air of being unfazed and gave a light chuckle as he recalled the memory. 

“This kid named Sunwoo, he’s like this 6-foot Korean dude roasted Jesse Cabrera so bad, I almost peed myself from laughing,” he chuckled again at the memory only to be met with Izzie’s look of annoyance as she swung her backpack around to her back again. 

“Cool. We should get going to class, we have two minutes until the bell,” Izzie started to walk off and Simon quickly caught up, pushing himself off the wall. 

“Iz, what’s up?” 

She took a soft breath through her nose. She could say it–You mean the fact you didn’t respond about the party, show up, and completely ignore me? Blow me off? Practically humiliate me all because of a girl? 

“Nothing, I figured you were too busy and preoccupied to notice these sorts of things,” she shrugged as she continued to walk, not bothering to look at him.

Simon caught up to her and cut her off, they were right outside of their algebra class. His relaxed demeanor had tensed, his easy smile faded, and he crossed his arms.

“What? You’re mad ‘cause I was talking to Lil?” 

Lil. They’re on a nickname basis now. Gross. Izzie looks at Simon now, her expression, unreadable. 

“I’m mad ‘cause you didn’t tell me you were going when I had asked. Then you ignored me and acted like you didn’t know me, what gives?” 

“It wasn’t that big of a deal, Iz, it was loud in there anyways. I probably didn’t hear you–” 

Don’t make a scene. Don’t make a scene. Her jaw locked. Her chest tightened. But he smiled–just barely–like this wasn’t even a conversation worth having–and she snapped. 

“We made fucking eye contact!” A few of their other classmates caught wind of the conversation and Drew flashed a look of concern over to Izzie. She waved it off to not draw any more attention than she already had. 

Instead, she turned to make her way into the classroom, the clock was ticking and Ms.Flores would be in soon. 

Simon, however, caught Izzie’s wrist. His voice lowered. 

“Izzie, I didn’t mean it that way.” 

Izzie yanked her wrist away. 

“Then what did you mean?” 

Simon’s face flushes red. His emerald green eyes dart between hers–searching for an excuse? A way to smooth things over? His lips finally parted. 

“Iz, I just–I wasn’t thinking.” Then the sound dies. 

That’s all he got. A weak, “I wasn’t thinking,” and even he knows it’s not good enough.

And maybe, just maybe, that’s the problem. Years later, looking at his email, Isabella wonders if he finally figured it out.