Tears streamed down his reddened cheeks in a continual flow, his face a taut mask of pain.
He stared at the screen, not even glancing at me, and howled, all the while pounding away at his controller.
How are you, Hazel?asked Augustus. “I’m okay,” I said. “Isaac?”
No response. Not even the slightest hint that he was aware of my existence.
Just the tears flowing down his face onto his black T-shirt.
Augustus glanced away from the screen ever so briefly. “You look nice,” he said.
I was wearing this just-past-the-knees dress I’d had forever.
Girls think they’re only allowed to wear dresses on formal occasions, but I like a woman who says, you know,
I’m going over to see a boy who is having a nervous breakdown,
a boy whose connection to the sense of sight itself is tenuous, and gosh dang it, I am going to wear a dress for him.”
“And yet,” I said, “Isaac won’t so much as glance over at me. Too in love with Monica, I suppose,
which resulted in a catastrophic sob. “Bit of a touchy subject,” Augustus explained.
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