Noted

ELEVEN

How could she not see the writing on the back of the note? Furthermore, the request to publicly slip notes in a locker that isn't theirs is a disastrous formula waiting to be exposed.

All this she conveys to Phoebe the moment she returns home.

"I thought that was it, that I somehow won. Bee, what the hell? He wants to keep talking through notes!"

"Maybe he doesn't want to see the notes in his locker anymore," she says.

June stares at her reflection of her bedroom mirror, mouth ajar over Phoebe's suggestion. "Why would anyone not want their notes in their own lockers?"

Phoebe's sigh is harsh against June's ear. "June, you're really asking the wrong person. If you're so over it, just talk to him about it. Better yet, don't respond."

Something about Phoebe's words hit a mark somewhere deep in June's brain. Frowning, she moves to her bed and sits cross-legged.

"You're over me talking about this, aren't you?"

"Yeah," Phoebe replies. "It's getting annoying now."

"Because it's juvenile."

"And illogical."

June sighs, picking at the thread on her bed cover. "Maybe you're right."

A moment of silence. Then, "Why are you still doing this? You hate him."

"I don't hate him," June begins. "I think it's because I want to win something over him for once. He humiliated me and I haven't forgiven him for it."

"It's obvious you don't want to give this up." A pause. A hum. "Okay, maybe this doesn't have to go far."

"What do you mean?"

"I think what you need is to decide when enough is enough. Clearly, it's affecting you, so why not take ownership of it? If Christian's too stubborn to do it, maybe pinpoint a moment of time or place where you call it quits on your own accord. I think it's reasonable."

June's back straightens. "That's not a bad idea, Bee."

"The only issue," she continues, "is deciding when that moment will be."

"Between focusing on school and balancing my social life with you lot, I think I'll know when it hits me out of the blue."

"Spontaneously?"

"Yeah." June looks around her neat room, desk full of books and folders, each categorised into different subjects. She's been a planner all her life. Choosing to end this conflict between her and Christian needs to be handled in a way for June to walk out unharmed, least he jumps from behind with a surprise under his belt.

And then it hits her; a worm slithering in what's left of her logical thought process. Like the glittery residue of a milky-way, so apparent and clear, it almost hurts to admit its presence.

"I can hear you muttering under your breath." Phoebe's words cut through June's thought process. "Care to share?"

It takes her a minute to process them in a way Phoebe can understand.

"Maeve."

"Maeve?"

"Yes, Maeve."

"Um, why Maeve?"

"Maeve told me the answer."

"You need to give me more than just Maeve, June."

June paces around her room. "She brought up this weird metaphor about painting villains and said I was doing that to Christian. She insisted I try and be nice to him, since he so clearly was nice to me on the weekend."