He used to call me Angel, and I used to love him. That’s almost the whole story, summed up in one quick sentence. I don’t think my name is important to him anymore, so it isn’t important here, but I’ll tell it to you anyway: Angelie Rose Hart. He called me Angel " Ryan did, that is. It’s so hard for me to even say his name, but this is for posterity. Welcome to the journal of Angelie Hart.

September 1st

It’s the first day of my junior year. The year of SATs and colleges and driver’s licenses. The first year since eighth grade I’ll be without Ryan Abercrombie. Ryan, the perfect boyfriend and my best friend. Ryan is a senior this year I can see by the way friends " mine and his " look at me sympathetically that word of our breakup has gotten around. It wasn’t like this for any other girlfriend of Ryan’s, and I know why it’s like this for me: they know we really loved each other. There won’t be a rebound or a drama-filled fight. Just me and my pathetic heartbreak. My summer was full of friendly smiles; the only ones I’m getting now are fleeting.

The bus ride felt empty. The only people I know on my bus are Sara and Jack, and they were couple-friends, the kind you make when you’re all so happy in your respective relationships. They didn’t give me a second glance today, and it was pretty much what I expected. Truthfully, I wish Sara and Jack wouldn’t have even taken that one look, because in it, I saw mirth.

“Angie, hi,” my one close friend Alexis said, tapping me on the shoulder and grinning. “Hi, Lexi,” I replied, not smiling; Lexi’s smile faded in return. “I’m so sorry about you and Ryan and your dad and everything, Ange.” I tried to smile but ended up crying instead. Lexi hugged me, and the bell rang as I tried to swallow my tears.
As luck would have it, I got Mr. Fiscal as my homeroom teacher. I wiped the last of the tears from my face and tried to collect myself as I walked through the door. It wasn’t good enough for the hard-a**. “Guidance office, Ms. Hart,” he said as soon as he took in my dejected posture and red eyes. “Guidance won’t help her, sir,” a male voice called from the doorway. I turned around to see Ryan’s friend Brian. He nodded at me and said, “Ry wants to talk.” I started crying again. Mr. Fiscal, as if guessing this was far out of his league, just rolled his eyes and turned back to the attendance list.

After roll call we were allowed to find our lockers and go to class. The first one I had was AP English and Composition, and Ryan was one of those eight AP Comp students. Of course, I thought. I’d met Ryan through the AP track in elementary and middle school. I just didn’t think he would be in my AP class. He was talking to Brian when I got in, but they ceased conversation immediately and looked at me as I took a seat. There was no teacher in sight, and so I looked away and tried not to start crying again. I felt a gentle tap on my shoulder. “Hey, Ange. I’m so sorry about you and Ryan. And about your dad. Ryan’s sorry too. Please let him talk. All you need to do is listen.” With a halfhearted hug, Brian was gone. The other students filed in, the teacher arrived, and the first day began.

“Hi, Clara? I might be going out later,” Lexi said to her older sister at lunch. “Okay, bye,” Clara replied, turning back to her senior friends. “Oh, and Angie, I’m sorry about Ryan and your dad.” I forced out a smile that probably looked more like a grimace and a polite thank-you. Over the summer, Ry and Lexi had tried to keep me together after my dad died. It ended with Ryan insisting he couldn’t help me and breaking off our three-year relationship and subsequently our eight-year friendship. I remember Brian calling Lexi the night before Ryan broke it off. (“Lexi, listen. Ryan’s a total wreck. He can’t be with Angelie like this, so just be there for her, okay?”) I never heard anything about this until after Ryan broke up with me. (“Angel, I love you, but I can’t help you grieve. You need to grieve, and I can’t watch you do it. I’m sorry for everything, and I’ll always love you.”) Lexi was there for me that night, offering up her conversation with Brian as some sort of explanation. I was just so upset with my dad’s death and the breakup. Eventually, my family life got more normal, but when I called Ryan, he didn’t pick up.

“Lexi? Where are you going tonight?” I queried as we carried our trays to the nearest empty table. “I am going to see a movie with my friend Brian, and you are going for a walk with your…uh…Ryan,” Lexi answered, stumbling a little over the end of her sentence. I froze. “What are we doing tonight, Lexi?” “You’re going to talk with Ryan!” Lexi repeated. I sighed, though I felt suddenly sick at the mention of talking with him. Lexi rolled her eyes at my show of drama and got up to go to her next class.
I got through the rest of the day with little difficulty, and went home with Lexi. “Ryan will meet you outside here, okay?” Lexi called from Brian’s car. I nodded bravely, and Lexi smiled encouragingly. “You’ll be fine,” she yelled as Brian waved and pulled away from the car. I sat down on the bench out front of Lexi’s house and stared at the corner where Ryan’s house was. I watched the fuzzy figure wander up the street and watched as it took the form of Ryan Abercrombie. Ryan stood at the end of the driveway and I blinked back tears. “Angel,” he began, loud and clear at four in the afternoon on a quiet street, “I love you. I can help you. I’m sorry for everything and I’ll always love you.” I stood up, all of my inhibitions gone at those simple words, and strode to the end of the driveway. There, I took the hand he offered me, and we began where we left off.