OOM: Contention
Emily Conlin is a good friend and a dangerous enemy, for a high school girl, because she notices just about everything that goes on at Neptune High. As an enemy, that means chances are good she'll know whatever weakness you're hiding.
As a friend, that means chances are good she'll still know whatever weakness you're hiding, but she'll be nicer about it.
Emily is lying in wait (as Hannah thinks of it when she's got that expression), when Hannah gets back to the booth with their milkshakes.
Hannah's been putting this off -- hanging out with Emily -- because Emily will probably bring up Things Hannah Doesn't Want To Talk About. But you can only turn down your best friend's invitation so many times before she gets majorly suspicious.
"So," says Emily, stirring her milkshake around with her straw, "what happened with you and Sam?"
This particular topic would be at the top of a list of those Things.
"Nothing," says Hannah.
"Riiiiight," says Emily, drawing the i out to give the word about four extra syllables. "Look, three days ago you guys were all easy and friendly and now you're still friendly, but it's gone all awkward. Did he ask you out?"
"He might have," says Hannah.
"So, he asked you out and you said no?"
"More or less."
"Why?"
"I don't know why he asked me out. You should ask him."
Emily waves her hand dismissively, exhaling a pffft sound. "I know why he asked you out. Everyone at school who isn't deaf, blind, and in a vegetative state knows why he asked you out. Sam Keith is crazy about you. Completely and totally, can't take his eyes off of you, won't shut up about you, over the moon crazy about you."
"He barely knows me," Hannah objects.
"What I don't know," Emily continues, as if Hannah had not interrupted, "is why you said 'no.' Sam is adorable, and sweet and, as previously stated, crazy about you."
"I have a boyfriend."
"Henry?" Emily says. "Come on, Hannah. I mean, don't get me wrong. I liked him, the one time I met him. He's nice enough and he's cute and you're clearly pretty into each other. But he lives in Vermont. Or England. Or something. That's not a boyfriend, Hannah, that's like somebody you know through Facebook."
"It's . . . complicated," says Hannah, uncomfortably.
"Besides, you haven't mentioned him in like a month. I just kind of figured it was over."
"Well, it's not," Hannah snaps.
"Okay, sorry," says Emily, holding her hands up in a gesture of surrender. And then dropping them back to the table and continuing, "Look, I'm sure Henry's a great guy. You wouldn't be this hung up on him if he wasn't. But he's not here. I just think you might wanna find somebody who is."
Hannah starts to protest, then stops.
( . . . c'est bon d'avoir ici, je pense; mais peut-etre pas de vivre ici. C'est meilleur de trouver ce qu'il y a ici, dans le monde.)
Better to find things in the world.
Emily snaps her fingers. "Hannah? Did I lose you there?"
"No," Hannah lies. Truthfully, she's forgotten all about Emily for a second or two. "Em, I know you mean well, but I have a boyfriend."
It occurs to her that she's saying that an awful lot these days.
"But--" Emily says.
"Emily. I do not want to talk about this."
"Fine," says Emily, a little hurt and very defensive. "Forget I mentioned it."
That, Hannah thinks, is unlikely.