Page 26 of When Darkness Calls

The laptop closes with a click as I sit back crossing my arms.

Issac balls up the burrito wrapper, scrutinizing me. “You okay?”

My shoulder lifts halfheartedly. “Just tired. Didn’t really sleep well.”

He hums, crossing his arms to mirror me, but he doesn’t say anything. Issac, despite his absentmindedness, is a good guy. Having known him for almost five years, I sometimes forget that underneath the inattention, bad jokes, and hair gel, he’s a good friend. Times like today, he somehow knows when I need the company but not the conversation. Although I may wish Liz was here instead of him, her whirlwind of chaos, the kind of distraction I desperately need, it’s still nice to sit with him.

We’ve not really been super close in the last year or so. I mean, there’s probably only been a couple of times where we spoke outside of face to face, which is a total one-eighty from how we used to be. I can’t think of many moments throughout high school where he wasn’t there.

Issac looked a lot different when I first met him compared to the guy sitting in front of me now. His light blonde hair that was messily spiked in the front has darkened to a deep sandy color slicked up and to the side. While he’s always been very slim, the last few years he’s lost the roundness in his face, leaving sharper angles and a hollowness on his cheeks.

The biggest change though, aside from his height now having him five or six inches taller than me instead of being eye to eye, is the way he dresses and carries himself.

When I met Issac for the first time, it was the second week of school in eighth grade. His family had just moved here, wanting to get out of the city. We were all sitting in Mrs. Rinehart’s homeroom when he came in without a care in the world. There was zero anxiety or nervous energy shown in the way he skipped into class and walked straight up to her, sticking out his hand with a big smile and introducing himself, holding a skateboard with the other. He was wearing baggy jeans, the bottom hem worn and distressed from dragging the ground and being stepped on in his dark blue Vans, with a blue flannel over his gray Spider-Man hoodie.

Liz leaned over her desk, whispering, “He seems cool.” And I couldn’t disagree with her. Issac waltzed in and had the definition of an easy going, slightly outgoing spirit that made it hard not to like him. Every conversation was filled with jokes, teasing, and surprising levels of compassion and understanding.

It was like that for years. Just us three forming a very strange dynamic trio. Issac the nerdy skater, Liz the bubbly cheer Barbie, and me the Lydia Deets wannabe. For all intents and purposes, you’d never think we’d have anything in common, let alone become such great friends.

Then Junior year something had shifted.

Liz had quit cheering in February, which if you ask me was about four years too late. She really hated it. I think the only reason she kept doing it was because she used to worry so much about what people thought of her and because she needs to have a busy schedule or she gets bored.

The first three years of high school she cheered, did theater, ran track, was on the student council, was class VP, did a fuck ton of volunteer work with the school’s community service club, and worked at the diner on weekends and during breaks.

I still don’t understand how she did it, had a couple AP classes with me, and still had time to sleep. But she quit cheering and picked up more shifts at the diner.

Around the same time, Issac began to work there too. The rest of Junior year went by normally. I’d pop in while they worked to hang out and do homework together between customers. Issac and I had begun to finally get Liz into some of our favorite alternative rock bands, and she even agreed to see a horror movie at the theater. Slowly, her interest in darker and heavier things grew and it made me so happy to see her trying something new and more so that it was stuff I liked too. I had more things I could share with my best friend.

Her concern about what other people thought about her lessened with each day…but Issac…Issac’s grew.

That summer his family had taken a trip to visit family in California. He was gone for months and had barely kept in contact aside from texting Liz. When he came back, the Issac sitting in front of me was the one who returned. Gone were the graphic tees and hoodies, baggy clothes, and skater shoes. In their place were khakis, polos and short sleeve button ups, sweaters, and leather sneakers. I thought he had been replaced by an imposter…a clone.

Nothing of the old Issac was there. His personality began to dull. His jokes became rare occurrences. His teasing began to feel more condescending instead of playful. And while the sympathy was there in times like today where there was something obviously bothering me, the casual day to day understanding and compassion disappeared. He may have mostly the same interests and more or less the same humor when it comes through, but the parts that were essential to who Issac is…was…were gone.

Since then, he and Liz have started dating. She seemed so happy in the beginning, and frankly despite my skepticism for his “new and approved” change, I was happy for them. It was a long time coming honestly, and I could only take so many more months of watching them pining for each other without saying anything. So even though my friendship with him had changed drastically, theirs seemed to be great…at first.

Liz may have only just realized there’s something a bit off between them since Orientation, but I’ve noticed it for months. His disinterest in the conversations. The way his eyes glaze over. The annoyed expressions I have glimpsed in quick moments before he realizes I’m looking at them.

I thought maybe I had been imagining it. That I was taking it the wrong way. But she’s noticed it too. I was hoping we’d get to talk about it after the Fest, when we would’ve been piled in my bed, and the hurt would be comforted by my baked-good monstrosity. Then everything happened, and by the time she had dropped me off, I asked her to rain check on the movie night because I just wanted to be alone.

I really need to talk to her.

“Soo…how are you enjoying Logan’s class? I've honestly been unimpressed so far.” He interrupts my thoughts. As my eyes focus back on him, I see he’s scrolling on his phone, pretty much his default setting at this point.

“Photography? You’re in that class?” I squinted at him.

“Yeah. Remember last spring when we signed up for classes?” He looks at me quizzically. I think hard about our pre-orientation session in March and can’t remember anything.

“No. No I don’t.”

“Remember, Liz’s advisor told her she should take her art later because she needed that extra math class. So, when we chose our required art, I signed up with you?”

Nothing. Not a damn clue what he’s talking about, but I smile and nod.

“Yeah. Yeah sorry. It slipped my mind. I guess I just assumed you guys had taken all your classes together.”

“It’s cool. I’ll see you later in class, alright. Maybe we can grab seats together?”