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He seems so isolated, so lonely. Even though it's his own choice. He's made quite a hit on the
football team, but he doesn't hang around with any of the guys, except maybe Matt. Matt's the only
one he talks to. He doesn't hang around with any girls, either, that I can see, so maybe the narc
rumor is doing some good. But it's more like he's avoiding other people than they're avoiding him.
He disappears in between classes and after football practice, and I've never once seen him in the
cafeteria. He's never invited anybody to his room at the boarding house. He never visits the coffee
shop after school.
So how can I ever get him someplace where he can't run from me? This is the real problem
with Plan B. Bonnie says, "Why not get stuck in a thunderstorm with him, so you have to huddle
together to conserve body warmth?" And Meredith suggested that my car could break down in
front of the boarding house. But neither of those ideas is practical, and I'm going insane trying to
come up with something better.
Every day it's getting worse for me. I feel as if I were a clock or something, winding up tighter
and tighter. If I don't find something to do soon, I'll –
I was going to say "die."
The solution came to her quite suddenly and simply.
She felt sorry about Matt; she knew he'd been hurt by the Jean-Claude rumor. He'd hardly spoken to
her since the story had broken, usually passing her with a quick nod. And when she ran into him one
day in an empty hall outside of Creative Writing, he wouldn't meet her eyes.
"Matt – " she began. She wanted to tell him that it wasn't true, that she would never have started
seeing another boy without telling him first. She wanted to tell him that she'd never meant to hurt him,
and that she felt terrible now. But she didn't know how to begin. Finally, she just blurted out, "I'm
sorry!" and turned to go in to class.
"Elena," he said, and she turned back. He was looking at her now, at least, his eyes lingering on her
lips, her hair. Then he shook his head as if to say the joke was on him. "Is this French guy for real?"
he finally demanded.
"No," said Elena immediately and without hesitation. "I made him up," she added simply, "to show
everybody I wasn't upset about – " She broke off.
"About Stefan. I get it." Matt nodded, looking both grimmer and somewhat more understanding.
"Look, Elena, that waspretty lousy of him. But I don't think he meant it personally. He's that way with
everybody – "
"Except you."
"No. He talks to me, sometimes, but not about anything personal. He never says anything about his
family or what he does outside of school. It's like – like there's a wall around him that I can't get
through. I don't think he'll ever let anybody get through that wall. Which is a damn shame, because I
think that behind it he's miserable."
Elena pondered this, fascinated by a view of Stefan she'd never considered before. He always
seemed so controlled, so calm and undisturbed. But then, she knew she seemed that way herself to
other people. Was it possible that underneath he was as confused and unhappy as she was?
It was then that the idea came, and it was ridiculously simple. No complicated schemes, no
thunderstorms or cars breaking down.