Just Be Cool, Jenna Sakai

one
Heartbreak is for suckers.
Smart people protected their hearts, and I wasn’t stupid. Far from it. I locked my heart in a vault and buried it where nobody could trample on it. Which was why even though Elliot Oxford dumped me right before Christmas break, my heart was still whole.
Two weeks later, I’d made it through the entire first day back at school without any mention of Elliot. My best friend, Keiko Carter, hadn’t brought him up once. She’d texted me while I was at my dad’s in Texas for the holidays to see if I was okay. But I didn’t answer. And after several long, “meaningful” looks from her at lunch, it looked like she’d taken the hint. Now all I had to
do was avoid Elliot at newspaper club. It wasn’t as if we had to work together. Ignoring him was going to be a piece of cake. Unfortunately, I ran into Elliot on the way to my locker after school. And I mean literally.
I rounded a corner too quickly in my rush to get to Ms. Fontes’s classroom, and Elliot and I crashed into each other. My messenger bag slipped off my shoulder and thudded to the ground. We both leaned down to reach for it at the same time and knocked heads.
“Ow!” I straightened and rubbed my forehead.
“It was an accident,” Elliot said, handing me my bag. I snatched it from him. He was the last person I wanted to talk to. His eyes traveled over me. “You cut your hair. And colored
it.” “Way to state the obvious,” I grumbled. I tugged the shorter turquoise strands. While I often dyed my hair when I was upset, this time I’d just wanted a fresh start: new year, new shade. Or at
least that’s what I’d told myself. “Right.” Elliot pressed his mouth into a straight line.
I hefted my bag onto my shoulder as we stood there awkwardly.
“Are you heading to newspaper club?” he asked.

“Why? Did you hope I’d drop it?” Elliot frowned. I used to think that furrow between his eyebrows was cute. Not anymore. “Why do you have to be so angry all the time?” he asked.
“Why can’t you stop judging people?”
“It’s not judgment. It’s observation. A great journalist is a great observer. You should know that.”
Oh, he was going to go there again? “A great journalist is also objective.” “Something you can’t be if you’re shooting angry flames out of
your eyes all the time.”
“That’s physically impossible,” I snapped. “That’s called a metaphor,” Elliot said calmly.
Gah! I hated when he got all condescending. I decided to skip my locker. I pivoted and stalked to newspaper club. Alone. The way I liked it.
I swooped into the room and took a quick look around. Ms. Fontes, our sponsor, wasn’t here yet. She always ran out for a coffee after school but left the door unlocked for the rest of us. I counted seven, so only Elliot was missing.
Passing the table I used to share with Elliot, I made my way to the opposite end of the room and sat next to Isabella Baker. “Hey,” she said. She wore gold eye shadow that sparkled
against her dark brown skin. “Oh! I love your hair!”
“Thanks.” I smiled.
“Did you have a good break?”
“Pretty good.” I’d spent the entire two weeks at my dad’s. My first Christmas away from home, without both of my parents together. At least the weather in Texas hadn’t been too different from Southern California. “How was yours?”