My mouth opens to protest. She points at me and narrows her eyes. “Don’t say a word. One, I told you to shut up. Two, this is my monologue and not yours. Three, she’s a bitch.
As I was saying, when Gwen played to her true self and dropped the I’m-pretending-to-be-perfect-so-the-whole-world-will-love-me act, she made my life hell. I was labeled weird before I entered kindergarten, yet Beth liked me.
“When Gwen made me cry, Beth held my hand and told me that she loved me. When Gwen’s friends told me I couldn’t play on the swings, Beth pushed them off and told me the swings were mine. Beth taught me what it meant to have friends. I don’t know what the hell happened to her between third grade and now, but I owe her. Here’s the thing—I love you and I love her, but I swear to God I’ll kick your ass if you hurt her. ”
Lacy has thrown out too much to process, so I focus on what I know. “You’ll kick my ass?”
She cracks a smile. “Okay, maybe not, but I will be pissed off and I don’t like being pissed off at you. ”
I don’t like her being pissed off at me either.
“She’s coming with me to the party. ”
Disappointment clouds her face. “Dare or date?”
“Dare. ” I don’t lie to friends. “But Beth knows it. ”
“If she knows, doesn’t that break the rules?”
I shrug. “We don’t have a rule book. ”
The porch light flips on and the front door opens. Through the pouring rain, I barely see Lacy’s mom. I wave at her. A second later, she waves back.
“She thinks all Chris and I do is make out in cars. ” Lacy’s hand flutters away any further discussion about her and Chris making out in cars, which is fine by me.
I’d rather think about Beth. Who is she? The girl Lacy swears is a true friend? The girl with blond hair who loved ribbons and fancy
dresses? The girl who crawls underneath my skin and stays? The girl strong enough to tell me what she really thinks of me? The girl who looks so small and defenseless at times that I wonder if she can survive in the world on her own? Lacy may hate me for these words, but they have to be said. “Maybe Beth isn’t who you think she is. ”
“Funny,” Lacy says. “I was about to say the same thing to you. ”
Beth
RYAN SWITCHES GEARS when the pavement ends and the Jeep’s wheels hit gravel. The wind whips my hair into my face and neck, stinging me like the tiny tentacles of a jellyfish.
He turns on the headlights when the sun sets lower in the west, causing the woods surrounding us to fall into shadows.
Besides the forced happy hellos we exchanged under my aunt’s watchful eye, Ryan and I have said nothing to each other since he picked me up. The things he uttered to me two weeks ago still hurt—I was nothing more than a dare.
The offers of friendship, the smiles, the nice words—all games. Deep down I always knew it, but part of me hoped for more. I allowed hope. Stupid Beth making another stupid mistake. Story of my life.
“You know, it’s rude to text while you’re out with someone else. ” Ryan rests one hand on top of the steering wheel and leans cockily toward the door. “Especially when I saved you. ”
I ignore Ryan and stare at my cell. Owing him, I agreed to spend one hour with him at the party. I never agreed to conversation.
The constant dipping and bobbing in his Jeep makes reading Isaiah’s texts nearly impossible. It’s the first time I’ve had the courage to open them. Every message says the same thing: I’m sorry.
So am I. I’m sorry I trusted him. I’m sorry he betrayed me. I’m sorry I thought I could read his texts without my heart throbbing as if a swarm of bees attacked it. I want the heaviness to go away. I want the hurt to go away. How can I forgive him for telling Ryan my secret? How can I forgive him for forcing me to leave my mom?
And even worse, how can I talk to him now that I know he loves me and I know, beyond words, that I don’t feel the same way? My throat tightens. Isaiah’s my safe. He always has been. He’s that place where I fall when the world tumbles into chaos. There were times I thought maybe we could be more, but then…I’d freeze up entirely. Isaiah and I were meant to be friends and now I’m losing my only friend.
The phone vibrates in my hands. It’s as if he senses I’m finally on the other side. Call me.
Text me. Please.
I toss the cell onto the floorboard of Ryan’s Jeep. Texting Isaiah back will only increase the pain—for both of us.
Ryan concentrates on the road, looking deep in thought. I wish I had his life. No pain. No problems. Only lightness and freedom.