PART IV - SOFIA

We bonded.

And I was about to ruin it all because I was noisy. Damn you, Baker, for putting me in this position.

"Helen?" I asked.

"Mh?"

"Is everything okay with you and Jamie?" Why, why, Sofia? Why would you think it was your place to ask? I should've listened to myself when I told myself that this would be a bad idea. But Bakers face appeared in my head and he looked so angry and sad at the same time that I couldn't say no to him.

"Yes, of course. Why do you ask?"

"I might've –" Baker told me – "heard something and you were avoiding him most of the last week."

"Apparently, you're already well informed. Why are you asking me?"

Because... "Because I want to make sure you're okay."

She scoffed. "It's not like we're friends."

But, hopefully, on our best way there.

"No," I said, "but I can still –" Worry about you. "I just wanted to make sure you're okay."

After the past few hours, when it went so well, it was frustrating to talk to her now. She had been friendly and talkative and now she was a wall – or just normal Helen.

"I'm fine."

"Okay."

"I said, I'm fine."

I parked on the school parking lot, applied the brake, and when I exited the car, Helen had nearly reached the school. Thankfully, she would never step on much less cross the grass which made it possible for me to get to her right before she entered the building. The hallway was empty since everyone else was either in their elective or already gone.

I said, "You sound like Piper in Orange Is the New Black when she tries to sound happy but it's all just fake."

I reached for her arm, but she pulled it away.

"Don't touch me!" At least she stopped for a moment and looked angrily up to my face.

"Helen, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to stick my nose into something that's none of my business."

She looked at me with a face that unmistakably said: Yeah, right.

"It's just – my mom has been through an abusive relationship and I know it can be hard."

"What the fuck, Sofia?" I honestly think that this was the first time I heard her curse. "I am not in an abusive relationship. My boyfriend got drunk and kissed me. There is nothing wrong with it. Please tell Jonathan to shut the fuck up the next time."

I let her storm away. It was too much, I realized it now. I pushed too hard. Though I thought I could make a difference, That I could make her see that this was crazy and that she was – when not in an abusive – at least not in a healthy relationship.

Or maybe she was right. Possibly, Baker did misunderstand something.

The rehearsal was bad.

Helen was completely off her game, Baker was looking worriedly at her for the whole time, and I was feeling sick. Mrs. Carter got a call about halfway through and ended the rehearsal half an hour earlier than anticipated.

"Is everything okay?" Luke asked her.

It was weird how casually we treated our teacher once we were in rehearsal. She might as well tell us to use her first name and to come over for tea on Sunday.

"Yes, Luke, don't worry. Our son's sick and my wife is losing her nerves. I'll see all of you tomorrow," she looked at me, then at Helen, "or next week."

She left and we all looked awkwardly at each other, not knowing whether to continue or go home, too.

Helen was the first to move. She lifted her bag on her shoulder and left the room without looking back. I shot a glace at Baker saying: This is your fault. He shook his head, took a step as if running after her, then stopped himself, and sat down on the stage's edge.

As the rest one after one packed up their things and got out, I sat down next to him.

"She's gonna be okay," I said.

Baker shook his head very slowly. "I don't think she is."

"If –" I didn't know how to say what I wanted to say. "If it is true what you said about Jamie, why is she not leaving him?"

"Because she is afraid of losing him."

If my boyfriend –girlfriend– groped and molested me in front of other people, I don't think I would hesitate. "Why though? Because quite frankly? He's an asshole."

Baker laughed, short and sharp. "It's not that easy."

I waited for an explanation, but he kept quiet. Why was he friends with him? But I asked another question: "Why did you think it would be a good idea if I talked to her?"

"Because she likes you. And you're a girl, you can do the whole talking-about-your-feelings better."

"It doesn't feel like she likes me."

He rolled his eyes at me. "Of course, she does. It's just not that easy for her to let people in. It took me a year to realize she wanted to be my friend. And now? I love her with every fiber of my body - platonically."

I put an arm around his body and my head on his shoulder. I didn't know anything about talking about feelings. So we just kept quiet and sat there for a few minutes.