We had a dog when I was little. Strictly speaking it was Linda's dog, but she named it White Fang and her responsibility ended there. White Fang wasn't a good name and it didn't stick, so we just called him Dog. I took Dog out for walks all the time and fed him under the table. The nine-year-old me would proudly tell anyone that listened how much I adored him, even more than I did my sister.

He fell ill in the end, but on some of the good days he would be in better spirits and could even run a little. That was when I thought maybe he would pull through after all. Then he got worse. It went back and forth for a while and we gradually lost hope, until it was just a matter of time before the inevitable happened.

Just because it was expected doesn't mean we weren't heart-broken when Dog left us. It was back in third grade and I hadn't thought of it for some time until now. It was bad comparing our relationship with a dead dog, but I sometimes thought maybe Flora and I would make it. When we didn't, I wasn't surprised at all.

But it still hurt like hell.

She couldn't stop crying. Every time I thought she was about to stop, a fresh supply of tears would follow, like a creek flowing after the spring rain. I didn't trust myself to comfort her. With each painful second that passed, the dampness in the room grew and I sank into somewhere darker. I felt a headache coming on.

She said I was hers but now she didn't want me anymore. I watched Flora falling apart in front of me, and instead of feeling a surge of emotions exploding in my chest, I felt as if everything was sucked out of me.

The unbearable lightness in the room made it hard to breathe. I was full with emptiness and I wanted to throw up. Other than that, a small thing at the back of my mind was starting to grow, and it was dread. I dreaded what was to come now that I had lost her. I dreaded if I could ever get over her.

It wasn't just a break up. It was breaking up with Flora, the person who was supposed to take me to Paris and straighten my tie before work everyday. The person who was supposed to always love me and accept my love in return. She stood before me, looking at me longingly, and I thought of bitter rain pelting against two hazel ponds.

She said, her voice shaky, "Can I hug you?"

I put my arms around her and held her silently for a while. Her tears seeped into my neck and burned my skin like acid.

When she raised her head and our eyes met again, I knew she honestly cared about me and believed she made the right choice for both of us. I wanted to hate her but I couldn't. I hated that I couldn't even hate her. She reached up and stroked my cheek with her right hand.

"I'm going to miss you so much," she said.

I nodded. I liked it when she touched my face, and I liked her superficiality when she told me how cute I was. I was missing her already.

Her arms tightened around me. I remembered every time we hugged, and each time it held its own significance. When we drank coffee by the skating rink and thanked each other for being there. When she came to pick me up at my house and we were relieved to get a second chance. When I found out we broke up over a misunderstanding and I thought I'd never let her go again. When we lay naked in bed together, exhausted yet satisfied that we had someone to hold on to. When we chose each other outside Jessica's house and promised we would never give up. When she gave me the best Christmas present I had ever received, and I battled against the lump in my throat.

And finally, here we were, hugging for the last time to say goodbye.

She stepped away from me first and went over to sit by my desk. She didn't seem like she was in a hurry to leave, and I wasn't ready for her to go yet, either. We both knew when she left it would be final. Right now we were trapped in a parallel universe, where one thing didn't end and the next thing didn't start. If we kept on sitting in this room together, we could relish whatever was left of us.

We were silent for a while, both unsure of how to act around the other person. There was nothing more to say about our relationship. It was done. But there was still school and we were still history partners, which was one last thing to tie us together. Saying corny lines in a romantic drama with the girl I loved who just broke up with me. Well. We really were a twisted fairytale.

I asked her if she wanted to run through the play again, with the lightest, most casual tone I could muster. Flora looked at me with an incredulous frown, like she couldn't believe I was actually in the mood to talk medieval. I wasn't, but it was a safe and necessary topic to cover.

It took her a few seconds, and then her face cleared. I knew she got it.

Life goes on. We would be cool and we would do our parts as professionals. We would be good sports, civil, and there would be no hard feelings. We would try to be friends.

She narrowed her eyes and placed her hands on her hips. "Have you memorized your lines properly?"

"Yes. I can't promise the acting will be convincing, but at least I'll deliver the lines with accuracy."

"Oh, that's all I ask of you anyway. Don't screw up the lines. The responsibility of setting the tone of this story is in my hands," she said in her signature haughty way. "After all, school work is very important to me and I need to get an A."

I laughed. "I'm sure I didn't sound so obnoxious when I said that."

She laughed too.

***

When it was finally our turn to present in history, I was surprised at how truly neutral I felt during the whole thing. It was just school work to me. Flora was extremely good, every bit of the drama queen she was and the whole class was gripped. Including Mr. Goleman.

The last line I had to say was, "So you are willing to throw everything away just so you can stay in the medieval times with me?" And Flora would reply with the cheesy line of "What everything? You're my everything."

Unfortunately she decided to improvise. When it was her turn to speak, she literally froze on stage and stared at me.

"Hey, lady, I asked you a question," I said when it was clear she wasn't going to speak. I could make out Janet's laugh in the background.

"I love you," she replied in a trance.

"...I'll take that as a yes?" Now is not a good time to act crazy on me, Flora.

"I don't think we'd be perfect together," she mumbled. "I think we would be better off without each other, even though I really love you."

What a twist, right? By then half the class were in fits of snickers, and Flora was unaware and getting carried away in a martyr mood. Apparently she found it necessary to dump me again in history class; making my life a living hell was still what she was best at.

I quickly got to her side and stopped her from spewing out further nonsense. "Okay, I get it. You can catch the next plane out of here."

She snapped back in time and broke into a smile. "I mean, the modern world needs my impeccable fashion sense, and you, as a knight of honor...you need to save several other damsels in distress." She had given this drama some positive morals after all: don't sacrifice what you are good at for love. "We'll be perfect each in our own worlds."

We were engulfed in applause, and even Mr. Goleman looked impressed. I supposed we were both getting As.

Flora came to me after the class was over and apologized. Said she was sorry for going off script.

"That's why I don't like to co-star with amateurs," I said, mocking the good-natured snobbish tone she used sometimes. "They tend to forget their lines and let their personal issues get in the way."

She chuckled. "I'm really sorry. When I look at you I just...Anyway, that went okay, right? Mr. Goleman said we did a really good job."

"Yes, you're the best history partner of all time." It was the truth. Kind of.

"You know what? We need to go celebrate." She perked up, and the light flicked on in her eyes. The light I used to love so much. "Let's go to Amber's after school!"

"I can't."

"Why? Are you doing anything later? If you can't make it today, tomorrow--"

"No, I'm not doing anything. I just don't want to."

Flora's eyes widened, and I was surprised she even needed to ask. "Why? This isn't a date, you know. Just two friends hanging out."

I exhaled. Was this girl for real? "I know, but Flora, I'm really not ready yet. I don't think being alone is a good idea right now." Especially if you try to feed me again.

"What? We can't even hang out now?" Her face fell like a plucked flower, the color draining away rapidly. "Even being your enemy is better than this!"

"You need to give me some time to get over you, that's all."

"I thought we agreed to be friends."

"We are friends, Flora."

Just not in the way you're asking. Maybe in her world, she really was on friendly terms with all her exes. They acted normal and ate ice cream and had a brilliant time together, but I knew I could never be that kind of person. I would be nice to her and try not to make our friends feel awkward. I would smile at her and make meaningless small talk in front of the lockers. I wouldn't say one bad thing about her, and then after I went to college, I would never speak of--or to--her ever again.

Flora texted me later, and I deleted the message right away. I really didn't need that. I needed a clean, precise break where we cut all connections.

***

We had a basketball game in the evening, during which we completely crushed the other team. As we got ready to go, Jake laid a hand on my shoulder.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"What do you mean? I thought I played really well today."

"I can tell when your mind is off the game," he said in a rare moment of sensitiveness.

"Well, I can't tell," Dylan piped up. "But what's wrong? Trouble with a capital F?"

I picked up my bag from the floor and slung it over one shoulder, deliberating. I wanted to tell them, but I also wanted to sit on the information for a while longer. It felt less irreversible that way.

"Flora broke up with me," I said finally.

I could tell they were going to make some cruel jokes. They thought it was nothing serious. After Dylan had abused the term breakup, the importance of it was significantly watered-down. To them it meant a two-week lapse where I got a free pass to hit on other girls.

Dylan started first. "So is breakup sex really as good as they say it is?"

Jake shoved him with a smirk on his face. "Shouldn't you be the expert on that?"

"Can you please not joke about it?" I asked, not doing a good job of hiding my irritation. They were always teasing me but I was almost never annoyed with them. I now knew it was because I never went through a time like this before. "I'm really not in the mood for that."

Dylan shut his mouth.

"I wasn't going to joke about it," Jake said.

They both watched me as if I were a rabid dog that might bite them, then after a few seconds Dylan said, "You'll get back together in two days."

"No. It's final."

"But why?" Jake asked. He even looked sort of upset.

It was hard to explain so I just picked the simplest answer. "She thinks we're incompatible."

"Physically?" This came from Dylan. He insisted it was a serious question and that people split up all the time because of it.

"No, not physically. Jesus, Dylan."

"It means she's rich and he's not," Jake supplied.

"It's not that either," I said. "I guess we just want different things in life right now."

Dylan shook his head. "You helped her study for the SATs, but she just wants someone to party with."

"No, it's not like that." It was hard to put into words, because part of me was also confused. She loved me and I loved her. How had we come to this? Part of me, however, knew it had to happen, but I wasn't ready to admit that out loud.

We walked out of the locker room. I checked for Flora's Mercedes out of habit, but there was no one waiting for me outside.

"My Jeep is over there," Jake said lightly. He sighed as we headed toward that direction, which was unusual because he was perpetually happy. "I'm depressed. You destroyed my faith in humanity and high school love completely."

"You can still bet on me and Sydney," Dylan said.

Jake glanced at him briefly before turning back to me. "Like I said, you destroyed my faith in high school love completely. You were the one couple that I actually liked. I thought you were going to make it."

"Sorry we didn't try harder for you," I said sourly to hide my appreciation. I thought he was going to tell me that she was just a girl, because just was his favorite word. It's just a game, Dylan. It's just a test, Sean. Sex is just sex.

"I mean it's like an era ended," Jake said. "I feel nostalgic."

Dylan was less sentimental about it. "The reason doesn't really matter. When it's over, it's over," he said, being the veteran he was. "Are you okay, man?"

They both looked at me. I never really needed them to comfort me on anything, and I always thought I could hold my own. This moment was scarce and foreign.

"I'm fine," I said.

"Come over to my place to play pool," Dylan said.

"I have a wicked bottle of absinthe, so get ready to meet the green fairies!" Jake grinned. He made it sound really fun. "We can all crash at Dill's after we pass out."

"It's a school night," I said.

"Fuck school." Dylan opened the car door. "We're seniors. School doesn't apply to us."

So that night I let them console me in the only way they knew how, with their dirty jokes and a lot of alcohol. It was the only way they needed to know, too. It worked. By the time we were half drunk, Jake had cheered up considerably and was starting to see the bright side of things. He thought we could take on Germany together in summer as single men.

"You can be my wingman," he said. "It's going to be so awesome!"

"You don't need a wingman, Jake."

"I still need you to translate the necessary exchange," he said. "Do you know how to say no strings attached?"

"Start brushing up on your German," Dylan said to me with a slur. "The well-being of your friends' reproductive organs is in your hand."

I used to think Flora would be in my life forever, but Paris and New York were crossed off from my future list. However, there was still going to be Germany.

It wasn't the same, but it made me feel better.

***

"I'm never speaking to Flora again," Linda announced indignantly when she heard of the news.

"Isn't she your favorite person in the world?"

"I'm taking your side and unfriending her," she said.

"Sis, there are no sides," I said. Linda showed her love for me in the strangest ways. "Besides, what happened between me and her doesn't concern you."

"You're my brother! I want you to know that I have your back."

"If you really want to show your support, maybe you can wash my car for me."

Linda shook her head at me. "How can you not be mad at her? Not even a tiny bit? I mean you were doing perfectly fine before without her, but now she's broken your heart completely."

"I'm fine." It was the sentence I practiced saying everyday.

"I hate her for making you sad," she said.

I didn't expect Linda to think of me as her hero or something, but I never expected her to pity me. "I don't even hate her myself. I'm sad it ended, but at least it was on good terms."

"Are you holding a press conference? No one talks like that after a breakup." She sighed. "But at least she didn't tell people you broke up because you're bad at sex."

"What a relief, right?"

It was nice to see Linda recover fully from her last relationship. She was having a good time at school with the friends she made. She had also become a little more confident and mature, and I guess even the bad kind of relationships teach us something.

"But it would actually be easier, right?" Linda said. She somehow pointed out the exact thing I had been turning over in my head. "I mean if Flora were a bitch who hurt you intentionally."

I nodded. There's a good reason why people hate their exes. It's a defense mechanism to protect ourselves, because getting over someone good is so much harder. Flora had been a terrific girlfriend. She tried hard. She ended it in time, and I knew she genuinely wanted to stay friends.

I picked a great person to break my heart. It was the best and worst thing about it.

Linda stuck a post-it note on my door everyday. They were tumblr quotes about heartbreaks, and it was her way of telling me that I wasn't alone.

***

I got in the passenger seat of Janet 's car. She offered to take me to a loud concert so I'd be able to numb my thoughts, even though I already knew that they were hiding somewhere unreachable.

A song was playing on the radio. I listened absently until I heard the lyrics.

Maybe we're trying, trying too hard, Maybe we're torn apart

Maybe the timing is beating our hearts, We're Empty

"Ugh, you don't need this right now." She switched the channel.

Please don't let me go, I desperately need you.

She groaned. "Where's an uplifting song when you need one?" She selected through several channels and finally decided on one. "Arctic Monkeys. This should be promising."

I wanna be yours, I wanna be yours

Wanna be yours, wanna be yours, wanna be yours

Wincing at the words, I reached out to switch off the radio.

"Cheer up, Kelly," Janet said.

I had to smile at that. Trust Flora to tell all her friends about the stupid designer bag analogy. "I have a feeling you're going to call me that."

"That's a pretty glorified way to give you the 'it's not you it's me' line."

"Don't forget 'I'm not ready for perfection'. That has got to be the ultimate breakup line. I must remember to write it down."

Janet smiled. "Flora has a real future in script writing. She just doesn't realize it yet."

I was glad Janet acted the way exactly I needed her to be. No condescending I-told-you-so. No unwanted sympathy. No false promises of how I would get over her soon and find someone better.

"You had a pretty good time together while it lasted, right?" she asked. "Considering the circumstances. You don't really have that much in common."

"I don't know. I think I'm attracted to her crazy energy although I can't keep up. It's like...she can spend a good fifteen minutes telling me about her salon trip, tossing out phrases like scalp treatment and highlights and essential oils...you know, frivolous things I have absolutely no interest in...not to mention she ends up looking exactly the same. But the point is, I actually like hearing her go on about it, and I like the radiance in her when she talks...she always has a very intense expression like we're talking about important world issues...and I like how she bosses me around on food. I always thought it didn't matter we like different things." I caught myself and stopped abruptly. It wasn't like me to ramble on like that. "Anyway. It's not important anymore."

Janet shook her head. "Uh-oh. Just now you had a faraway look in your eyes. It's pretty hard to watch."