That afternoon, it was Charles who wanted to be alone. After we left school, I finally accepted that I wasn't going to convince him to show everyone his new ability that day, and I resigned myself to silence for most of the walk back. When his house came into view, I decided it was time for a begrudging apology.
"Look," I said, my eyes on the ground in front of us, "I don't know what's going on with you, but I guess I shouldn't have kept poking at you about it."
He wasn't prepared to let me off so easily. "This isn't really the most convenient time to be realizing that."
"I know," I said, annoyed in return, "I just ... maybe if you'd actually give me a reason other than 'I don't want to,' I'd be a little more understanding."
"I shouldn't need a reason. In fact, I don't have a reason. I just don't want to, okay? Now are you going to accept that like a friend would, or do you want to keep arguing with me like you have all day?"
"What is your problem?"
"I don't have a problem," Charles said, his voice rising, "I don't have reasons, and I don't have problems." I was starting to think I'd broken some sort of dam.
"Fine. Whatever," I said, trying to avert a scene. Then, to opposite effect, under my breath, "I don't know why you're being a jerk."
"Just shut up, Adam!" I was so surprised, I almost flinched; I'd never heard Charles yell before. "You have no idea what you're talking about. You know what? Fine. If you want me to do it so badly, then fine. I'll do it tomorrow. Just shut up about it." He sped up his steps before I had a chance to respond, making it home and slamming his front door before I even knew what it was I would have said.
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