Heartbreakers and Fakers

by Cameron Lund

I turn away from the animatronic bird singing in front of us and look at her. “What are you talking about? Kai manipulated me. He doesn’t deserve my forgiveness.”

  “Yeah, just like you manipulated Jordan,” Sarah says.

  “Some things are unforgivable,” Myriah says, voice soft. “But there’s a difference between forgiving someone who doesn’t deserve it, and letting someone learn and grow from their mistakes. Your bad decisions don’t have to define you forever.”

  “Personally, I’ve had enough of this hetero nonsense,” Romina says, and Myriah elbows her.

  “Kai has seen all the worst sides of you and somehow he still wants to be with you,” Sarah says. “That’s worth something.”

  * * *

  • • • • • •

  It’s almost noon when we cross paths with Olivia and Katie by the entrance to the Jungle Cruise. They’re sharing a Dole Whip, passing the spoon back and forth, and they stop walking when they see us. In a park filled with thousands of people, somehow fate is pulling us together in the meanest way.

  Olivia crumples her napkin, looking back and forth between Sarah and me. “So you’re all just fully hanging out with Sarah now, I guess?”

  “Yup,” Sarah says, crossing her arms.

  “Yeah,” I say. “We are.”

  “Are you guys going on Jungle Cruise?” Katie asks, licking a bit of juice that’s dribbling down her arm.

  “Obviously, Sarah wants to go on the ride for middle schoolers.” Olivia smirks. And I know now that Olivia’s comments must come from a place of insecurity, that inside she has a heart somewhere and she’s hurting. But that doesn’t give her an excuse to constantly treat Sarah like shit. I’ve had enough of it.

  “Can we not do this?” I ask, taking a step closer.

  Olivia takes a step closer too. “Oh, so now you’re concerned about Sarah?”

  “Whoa,” Romina says. “Maybe we should go check out the Haunted Mansion or something. Or get some popcorn?”

  “I am dying for a churro.” Myriah grabs gently on to my arm as if to pull me away. But I shrug her off, still focused right on Olivia.

  “This whole place is for middle schoolers,” I say. “And high schoolers, and kids, and adults, and literally everyone! Just let people live. Is that so hard? Sarah is my friend.”

  “You know what?” Olivia says. “You’re the world’s biggest hypocrite, Penny. You’ve laughed right along with every joke I’ve ever made. You let other people do your dirty work so you can still feel good about yourself. But you’re not perfect. And you’re not a good friend.”

  I stare at her for a second, let her words wash over me, and for the first time I don’t feel crushed by them. Because I agree with her. “You’re right.”

  “What?” She tilts her head to the side, her body still rigid, like she’s expecting a fight.

  “You’re right, Olivia.”

  I’m not perfect—because no one is. People aren’t absolutes. We are all layered: mean sometimes, and flawed, but also funny, and caring, and happy, and in love. We are all so many different things at once. And I can have love in my heart for Olivia—can feel horrible for breaking her trust—while also not condoning everything she says.

  I remember what Sarah told me the other night at her show. People aren’t fundamentally good or bad. It’s all about the choices you make. You have to choose to be a good person over and over. You can’t change the past; you can’t fix the mistakes you’ve made. You just have to choose to be better.

  And then it hits me. Being a better person means standing up for Sarah—but it means standing up for Olivia too. It means not dragging things out with Jordan when I don’t even want to be with him anymore. All I’ve wanted this whole summer is for Jordan to take me back, for Olivia and all the rest of my friends to forgive the horrible mistake I made. But I never thought about how my actions were hurting Olivia even more.

  “I’ve got to go,” I tell them. Then I turn and run away through the crowd, heading in the direction of Sleeping Beauty Castle.

  NOW

  IT’S 11:55 WHEN I get to the castle, and I text Jordan letting him know I’m here. Then I take a seat on one of the benches to wait. The sun is shining, the air warm on my arms, a nice flowery scent on the breeze. I look through my bag for my water bottle, and my hand catches on the book I slipped in there—the book I only took with me today because I wanted a piece of Kai with me. I take it carefully out of my bag and look at it for a second.

  “Why’d you bring a book?” Jordan asks, and I startle, looking up at him. He’s leaning over me, all broad shoulders and arms, and he looks perfect against the outline of the castle.

  “What?”

  “That book,” Jordan says. “Why are you carrying that around with you?”

  “Oh,” I say. I know I should drop it back into my bag and move on, but I’m still holding it like it’s a precious thing. I don’t want to let it go. “I just thought . . . maybe if the lines were long or something, it would be good to have something to read.”

  Jordan cocks his head to the side, studying me like he’s never seen me before. “I didn’t know you were so into books.”

  “Well, I mean . . . yeah . . .” I trail off, unsure what to say. All my memories of reading on the playground are tainted by how lonely I felt back then. I’ve been trying to push that side of me away, too worried that if anyone knew the real me, they wouldn’t like her. But I do love books. I’ve always loved to read. My heart breaks at the fact that I’ve kept that part of myself hidden.

  “I’ve just never seen you with a book,” he says, shrugging. And it hits me that maybe Jordan doesn’t even remember who I used to be as a kid. All those days I spent staring at him, longing for him, obsessing over him . . . well, he didn’t notice me at all.

  Jordan points to the Mickey Mouse ears on his head. “You ready to take that picture?”

  “Why did you want to meet me here?” I ask, instead of answering.

  He looks taken aback. “I thought you wanted this.”

  “But what about Olivia?”

  “Olivia and I are done. I told you, rebounds aren’t ever the real thing.”

  “But she’s not a rebound!” I jump up from the bench. “You’ve led her on for years. You slept with her, and then you pursued me, her best friend, like it didn’t even matter!”

  Jordan’s eyes narrow. “I wasn’t ready for a girlfriend back then.” He runs a hand down his face. “I mean, I was only fifteen. I just wanted to have a little fun.”

  I’m furious then on Olivia’s behalf. I’ve spent too long idolizing Jordan, too long putting his needs over those of my best friend. I can’t believe I always thought Jordan was so nice. Maybe I just saw what I wanted to see. I’ve been so absorbed in my own daydreams—my silly fantasy of him—that I couldn’t see Olivia’s true heartbreaking feelings right in front of my face. I’ve twisted that memory from the camping trip around in my head so many times, warped it to represent what I wanted it to mean instead of coming to the obvious conclusion.

  “Why me, then?” I ask. “Why did you want to be with me?”

  He laughs then, a nervous chuckle. “Why do you think?”

  I back away. “That’s not an answer.”

  He smiles—the full grin that once made me giddy—and takes a step closer. “Well, you’re beautiful.”

  I clutch Kai’s book tightly in my arms. “Is that it?”

  “Of course not,” Jordan says, but I think we both know he’s lying. And maybe his words should hurt, but they don’t. Because the truth is, I think the only reason I wanted to be with Jordan was because I thought he was beautiful too. I don’t think I ever loved him. I loved the idea of him.

  And maybe he only loved the idea of me too.

  “Well, what changed? I mean, why did you ask me to go get Popsicles last year?”

&nbs
p; I think about the Lady Gaga candle again, my wish about Jordan that seemed to change everything.

  “Um,” he says, and his face turns bright red. “Well, I heard Romina that day at the pep rally. Penny is madly in love with Jordan. Are you mad? Don’t be mad.”

  “Oh,” I say, internally dying just a little bit. Because of course that’s what it was. It wasn’t the magic of some candle. It wasn’t the fact that I learned how to do my makeup better over the summer, that I came into junior year with a newfound confidence. It wasn’t that he found out I liked musicals, or that he thought it was cute I couldn’t parallel park. It was the fact that Jordan knew he could get with me if he tried.

  Jordan doesn’t even know me.

  “Did I ever tell you about my dad?” I ask him abruptly.

  “What about him?” He’s understandably confused.

  “We dated for six months and I never brought him up at all.” I let out a laugh, feeling strangely free.

  “You could have told me whatever,” he says. But I know it’s not true.

  “I’m so sorry I kissed Kai at that party,” I say honestly. “I’m sorry I lied. But I think I finally get it, you know?” It all makes sense now, everything that has felt so extraordinarily messed up all summer. “I think I was so sick of trying so hard to be perfect, and I just . . . wanted to feel what it was like to make a mistake.”

  “Well, how did it feel?” Jordan asks. “You made a pretty fucking big one.”

  “It felt . . . amazing,” I say, laughing still. It occurs to me that maybe I drank too much at that party because I was too scared to be the real me—to be wild or spontaneous, someone who takes risks. And drinking made that person a little less harsh, dimmed her around the edges, made her more willing to act out, less self-conscious about what others thought of her. But I don’t need to drink to be that girl.

  And I know then what I have to do.

  “I’m gonna go, okay?” I pat Jordan’s knee and stand up from the bench. “There’s somewhere I have to be.”

  Then I walk away, leaving Jordan in my memories, where he belongs. As I disappear into the crowd, I’m surprised by how free I feel. I was so terrified of being left alone at Disneyland, but being by myself right now doesn’t feel like loneliness—it feels like potential. I don’t have to play by anyone else’s rules. I don’t have to be the girl I think everyone wants, the one who looks put together all the time, who is too scared to get her hair wet because of how it might look.

  Earlier this summer, when everything happened, I could have dealt with it on my own, but I’d gone to Kai for help. I’d used Kai for protection—had pretended to date him instead of being on my own, because the idea of being someone’s girlfriend made me feel more powerful than being alone.

  But depending on someone else isn’t power. Using someone to make yourself feel less alone isn’t strength. I don’t need anyone’s approval—not Jordan’s, or Olivia’s, or Kai’s.

  I start speed-walking through the crowd, toward the pulsing drums of Adventureland. The sun is hot on the back of my neck, but right now I don’t mind. Because I know what’s coming.

  I move through the crowds of people, pushing until I’m in Frontierland, and then I see it up ahead, the brown peak towering over the rest of the skyline: Splash Mountain. I’m running now, toward the excited screams, toward the splash of the boats as they crash down into the waves. I hop into the single-rider line, and it’s short enough that pretty soon I’m right at the front.

  I realize then that I still have Kai’s book in my hands, that in my hurry to run over here, I never stuffed it back into my bag. I run my hand over the worn cover, flip through the torn pages turned yellow over the years from the sun.

  “Penelope!”

  At first I think I must be imagining his voice, that I’ve conjured him into being, but then I turn and see Kai running up the single-rider line behind me. I spin back around, away from him. I hate that my heart jumps when I see him, that I feel an excited flutter in my stomach.

  “I’m not talking to you,” I say.

  “I saw you running over here,” he says. “Why were you running? Why are you alone?”

  “Because I want to be alone,” I say.

  “Okay.” He backs away, accidentally stepping on the foot of a man who has entered the line behind us. “Oh, sorry,” he says to the man, then turns back to me. “Sorry. I thought something was wrong. I’ll go.”

  “No, wait.” I don’t know why I say it. It’s just that suddenly I don’t want him to leave. “Jordan and I are done. For good.”

  “You are?” Kai takes a step closer. “Wait, why?”

  The woman in front of me gets into the back of a log boat and it drifts away, and then moments later I’m first in line. I open my bag to stuff the book back inside so it won’t get wet.

  “You brought my book,” Kai says, pointing at it.

  “Technically it’s my book,” I say, zipping it up safely.

  Another boat pulls up.

  “I need two single riders!” the cast member in front of us calls out, pointing to me and then to Kai. I climb into the second to last seat and then Kai follows and climbs in behind me.

  “Wait, what are you doing?” I twist around to face him. “Kai, this is a log flume. There’s a drop.” The boat jerks forward, and then we’re moving along the track, water splashing our feet. There’s a mom and daughter in matching Pixar T-shirts sitting in front of us, and the mom wraps her arms protectively around her kid as we start to move faster.

  “I don’t care,” Kai says. “What happened with Jordan?”

  Our boat begins to climb. “I just . . . don’t think I ever actually loved him.”

  Kai’s cheeks have gone red, beads of sweat gathering at his brow. He looks . . . not well. Like he might pass out right here in this log. I remember how nervous he got about the top bunk, which was only about five feet off the ground. We reach the top of the crest and then shoot down, only a small drop. I know this is just the warm-up.

  “Pen,” Kai says. He’s clutching the back of my seat so hard his knuckles are turning white. “I kinda can’t breathe right now. But I just want to—”

  “It’s okay,” I say. “You don’t have to say anything.”

  “No,” he says, his voice breathy. We round a bend and the boat starts climbing—up and up and up. “I just want to get this out,” he says. “I had no right to do any of that stuff I did. I was selfish and stupid, but I don’t want to be those things anymore. I know you think I don’t take anything seriously, but that’s not true. I take this seriously. I am serious about you. I want to be better for you, Pen.”

  I think of Sarah then—how she’s given me so many chances when I didn’t deserve them. I think of my mom, who is trying her best, but still sometimes messes up. I think of myself, who kissed her best friend’s boyfriend and spent the next few weeks trying to cover it all up. People make stupid mistakes. They cheat, they lie, they leave.

  Right now, I have all the power I’ve ever wanted. Whatever I do isn’t weakness—it’s strength. This whole summer, I’ve tried to blame everything on everyone else because admitting I wanted to kiss Kai that night would turn me into the kind of person who would do a thing like that. But there was some part of me that wanted to kiss him, that has always wanted to kiss him. I’m the one who cheated on Jordan. I can’t put that blame on anyone else, as much as I want to. Maybe Kai has made some bad choices, but so have I. And when we put aside our egos and our anger and actually listen—I think Kai and I make each other stronger.

  “I want to be better for you too,” I tell him.

  We’re almost at the top of the peak now, and I can feel Kai’s panic behind me. It’s rolling off him in waves. I reach out and take his hand, gripping it firmly.

  “It’ll be over before you know it,” I say. “We’re almost there. Just hold on tight, oka
y? It’s three . . . two . . . one . . .”

  Right as our boat tips over the edge, right when we’re airborne, I squeeze his hand three times. Seconds later, we crash into a wave and it’s done—the water soaking us, drenching our clothes and hair. I’m laughing, giddy from the drop, and when I turn around in the boat and see his shell-shocked face, I lean forward and kiss him. It takes him just a second, and then he kisses me back, his hands threading through my soaking-wet hair.

  “Did you mean it?” he asks, pulling away. “When you squeezed my hand.”

  “I think so. I think . . . sometime during this mixed-up summer you became my best friend.”

  “You’re my best friend too,” he says, laughing. “I think you might be my favorite person in the whole world.”

  The woman and child in front of us are turned around in their seats too, staring, but I don’t care. Our boat comes to a stop at the exit, and we all climb out. Kai’s legs are still shaking, and once we’re on dry land, I wrap my arms around him, pulling him into a tight hug.

  “Weren’t we supposed to break up here?” Kai asks.

  “I’ve had enough breakups for one summer,” I say into his chest. “I’m sorry I hated you all these years.” I squeeze him just a bit tighter. “You really did deserve it, though.”

  He laughs, pulling back. “It was kind of fun. You’re cute when you’re mean. But I like you even better when you’re nice, Sweet Bread.”

  “Do you know what sweetbreads are?”

  “What? Like dinner rolls. The fluffy, delicious kind.”

  “I’m pretty sure sweetbreads are animal organs.”

  “I’ve got to take you to Hawaii,” he says. “Because that is some nonsense.” He places a quick kiss to the top of my head. “But I like you either way. Now let’s get you dried off. You look like a Jackson Pollock.”

  I dig through my backpack and pull out a little compact, checking my reflection in the mirror. Kai is right—I look like a splatter painting. There are black mascara tracks down my cheeks, my hair frizzing wildly around my head.