“So long as you bring it back. We like the interns to be well-versed in how to care for our plants.”
“Good to know.” Angeline scooped up the book that stacked one more piece of evidence against Emmie and left to meet Cat.
* * *
Angeline laid Stop the Shrinking: How to Make Your Orchids, Birds of Paradise, and Violets Shriek with Delight! on the Formica table in the frozen yogurt shop. When Emmie showed up right on time wearing her plain-Jane flats and lace-fringed button-down, she couldn’t miss it.
“I want to talk to Cat alone,” Emmie said flatly.
Cat’s eyes were full of resignation—and hurt. “No, I don’t think so.”
Emmie’s strawberry-blonde hair trailed her collarbone as she swiveled her neck to check out the other two customers—a grandmother and toddler. “The book? That’s what gave me away? Not that it particularly matters.” She pursed her lips. “Now what?”
She wasn’t even going to try to deny it. Or sound remorseful.
Angeline’s nostrils flared. “Do you even care what you’ve done?”
“Oh, that’s precious coming from you.”
“Emmie—” Cat started.
“No, Cat, I’ve got this.” Angeline marched past the toppings bar and looked down at Emmie, who was even shorter than Cat. Clearly not their giant, but definitely green. “Jealousy, is that it, then?”
“Do you think I’m that petty?”
“I don’t know you enough to think anything about you.”
“Then ask your sister.”
“You mean your ‘friend’?” Angeline longed to squirt hot fudge all over Emmie’s white shirt. “No wonder you don’t have many if this is how you treat them.”
“I don’t hear Cat complaining.” Emmie said in a softer tone, “Cat, let’s go somewhere else and let me explain.”
Cat remained silent, intentionally or not letting Angeline direct the conversation.
“Explain what?” Angeline said. “You flat-out lied.”
“So did you.”
“You used people.”
“So did you.”
“You betrayed people’s trust.”
“This could go on all day, Angeline. I’m assuming you have a point?”
Angeline hadn’t expected such a formidable response. “What about Sammy? Did you really take advantage of his crush on you?”
“You think I got things about you from Sammy?”
And from Leo’s phone, which Sammy had made his own.
Emmie shot a look across the empty bistro tables at Cat, who had sunk into the blue metal chair. “Sure, yes,” Emmie said.
Barely audible came Cat’s, “Just, why?”
Emmie’s eyes finally showed some emotion. She angled around Angeline, sat across from Cat, and whispered, “I honestly thought you’d be glad.”
“I never said—”
“No, but I heard what you left out.”
“But we were friends.” Cat gestured to Emmie’s bracelet. “Which I thought was important to you.”
“It is,” Emmie said. “And friends help one another, especially with things they can’t do for themselves—or won’t. Though perhaps being an only child means there are some things I can never understand.” She turned to Angeline. “But I also believe in treating people with respect—when they deserve it. You don’t. You said and did whatever you needed to in order to win that primary for reasons that had everything to do with you. You didn’t care about the election or the school or your classmates. You don’t care about anyone but yourself. That election was supposed to be mine.”
Angeline snorted. “That’s not the statement of someone with altruism in their heart.”
Instead of lashing into Angeline, Emmie continued to address Cat. “Representing others is a responsibility. Even at Acedia. Because if we treat it like a joke or a popularity contest or as something that can be bribed now, don’t think it doesn’t become instilled in us later.” Emmie became more animated as she spoke. “Cat, you know I’m the one who’s been working on actual ideas to make things better in the school. Ideas your sister twisted when they were mine and then stole to be hers. At first, I just wanted Leo to win. With a mom like Mrs. Torres, how could he not be better? So I gave a little push, and yes, I pushed the envelope. Just like Ms. Lute talked about in class. Newspapers used to do this thing all the time. It’s actually a useful lesson for students about being gullible.”
“Don’t blame this on Ms. Lute.”
“I’m not. I own what I did.”
“But you don’t,” Cat said. “You hid what you did. You used anonymity to say whatever you wanted without consequences. And all those mistakes? You put them in purposely to throw off suspicion. Those aren’t the actions of someone proud of what they’re doing.”
“I’m proud of the end result. It’s part of the game. And it’s not like this kind of thing doesn’t go on at Acedia all the time. Is it worse because I’m a girl?”
“Of course not,” Cat said. “But don’t you see, Emmie? You can’t use the level that others stoop to in order to justify what you do. You’re no better than the people you’re trying to stop then. Believe me, I know.”
“Do you mean Leo? His mom covering up the cheerleading thing? That wasn’t true?” Cat shook her head, and Emmie winced as if she’d just been pricked by something sharp. “But, Cat, how could you do that to Mrs. Torres?”
Hypocrite. Total hypocrite. “Please, you didn’t just say that.”
Emmie ignored Angeline. “But you made me believe she wasn’t who I thought she was.”
“My story? That’s why you went after Leo?” Cat looked like she might be sick.
Damn you, Emmie.
Though Emmie seemed truly shaken. She slumped, the first time Angeline had ever seen her posture wane.
“She was my role model,” Emmie said. “Strong and smart and from our town, my town. It meant what I wanted wasn’t silly. But then, reading that about her, I felt duped. When Tad’s girlfriend sent that video to The Shrieking Violet, I used it. When Sammy said Angeline and Leo were getting closer and showed me that picture on Leo’s phone, I really did think they were trying to fool everyone and that neither one of them deserved to win.”
Angeline gave a derisive laugh. “You got your wish. At the expense of the election itself.”
Emmie set her hands on the table, right in sticky yogurt residue, and looked about to jump out of her skin, but she stayed put. “I never wanted that. I never thought things would go this far. I got swept up.”
Angeline knew the feeling, and the expression on her sister’s face meant she did too.
Emmie slid her chair back and held her sticky hands in front of her. “Principal Schwartz rendezvous in the morning, then?”
Cat stood. “No.” Angeline cocked her head, but Cat continued, “I trusted you, Em.”
“This doesn’t have to change that. This doesn’t have to change us being friends.”
“No, I guess it doesn’t have to. But it will.” Cat sighed heavily. “The truth is, we all played a part. No one’s innocent here. Not even our classmates. The Frankengirls, the angel wings, the hashtags, the parents calling—it’s all drowning out what actually matters.”
Emmie nodded. “What Ms. Lute’s been trying to make everyone see. Our school election and our votes teach us not just how to do this but why.”
Cat lips thinned. “And all they’ll learn is not to bother being engaged because someone with more power will say when enough is enough and make their decisions for them.”
“Just like my grandfather,” Emmie said.
Angeline had never particularly liked Emmie, and this wasn’t going to help. But knowing her history humanized her, a little, same as Principal Schwartz’s fishing photo. “What can we do to change that?”
“First,” Cat
said, “The Shrieking Violet’s over, Emmie. Deal?”
“I’ll shut down the website tonight,” Emmie said.
“Not just yet.” Cat flipped open the notebook Leo had given her. “You have one more article to post. We need our collective reach and more for . . . for Operation Red, Blue, and Violet.”
36
When Cat’s Alive with Butterflies
1 DAY TO THE (NOW CANCELED) ELECTION
THE NIGHT BEFORE OPERATION RED, BLUE, AND VIOLET
Alone in her room, Cat reviewed the information from Ms. Lute, who’d been generous enough to respond to Cat’s email after-hours and careful enough not to question why Cat needed such information after-hours.
She incorporated the necessary details and finished the article she, Emmie, and Angeline had collaborated on earlier. A shared goal overcame their differences even if it couldn’t erase the hurt. New as her friendship with Emmie had been, it was a friendship. At least to Cat. The sting of betrayal eclipsed the hollow feeling that came with losing Emmie as a person in her life, but surprisingly not by much. Cat hadn’t realized how lonely she’d been until Emmie had made her feel less so.
Emmie had apologized, though Cat could tell there was a piece of her that didn’t think she had to. That believed her cause was worthy enough to justify her actions. She thought that was something Cat would understand as a journalist. The idea of getting a story no matter the cost. Maybe Cat wasn’t cut out for this after all.
The threads of shame latched on to Cat not only for what she’d done to Leo but for what she’d done to Angeline. Venting to Emmie had given her everything she’d needed, filled in the pieces that Sammy’s own hurt ramblings and Emmie’s snooping on Leo’s phone—especially in his photos—when Sammy wasn’t looking had left out. Emmie had skillfully pressed them for dirt on Angeline, Cat could see that now. Yet Angeline only knew about Sammy.
Cat should tell her. She knew she should. And she would. After. Because this—Operation Red, Blue, and Violet, which would go live the next morning—needed all of them in order to work.
The article detailed everything they’d discovered about the Frankengirls perpetrator. They left out Emmie and The Shrieking Violet. Cat didn’t want to distract from Operation Red, Blue, and Violet. She also didn’t want to give Emmie more attention than she deserved.
She attached the article to an email addressed to Angeline and Emmie and clicked send. Between The Red and Blue, The Shrieking Violet, and Angeline’s social media, they’d reach the full student body.
She sent a copy to Grady, asking him to forward it to his cousin Bo, with a special note she’d written for the news station. It was time for Grady to prove he could be as useful as he seemed to think.
There was only one thing left to do. She loaded her web browser, logged in to the Fit to Print site, and retracted her award application.
At the gentle knock on the door, Cat blinked back tears.
Gramps poked his head into her room, and that was it. She couldn’t hold anything back anymore. She sprang out of her chair and fell into his arms.
* * *
With a box of Gramps’s favorite Irish soda bread cookies open on the dining room table, Cat told him everything she’d been keeping from him. He didn’t hide his disappointment in her. But he also didn’t dwell on it.
“You don’t need me to tell you what’s right and wrong,” he said. “Your insides must be black and blue from how you’ve been beating yourself up. Mistakes are how we learn what to do as much as what not to do.”
Cat softened a little, thinking of Ravi. “That’s what my friend said.”
“I’d like to meet this friend, as it would seem she’s up to snuff in the intelligence department.”
“He.”
“What?”
“He’s up to snuff. My friend’s a he.”
“Then I demand to meet this . . .”
“Ravi.”
“Good. Now tell me, why hasn’t he been around?”
Cat squirmed and snatched a cookie.
“Is he not interested?” Gramps asked. “Give me his number. I want to know what’s wrong with this boy’s head.”
“I’m pretty sure he’s interested.”
“Didn’t doubt it for a second. Then what’s the problem?”
Cat played with the edge of the cookie.
“Ah, you’re the problem,” Gramps said. “What is it? He not smart enough for you?”
“No, he’s super smart.”
“Doesn’t make you laugh?”
“No, he does.”
“So he’s not a looker, huh?”
Cat’s stomach flipped, and her face blazed crimson.
“Okay, so he is,” Gramps said. “Then what am I missing?”
Cat set the cookie on the dining room table. “It’s just . . . what if . . .” She brushed crumbs off her hands. “What if we go ahead and do something together, and we realize we don’t really click that way. And then we’re both still working at the paper and in the same physics class and lunch, and then it’s super awkward, so then we start avoiding each other in the hallways and skipping lunch, and he leaves the paper for yearbook, and then I have to find a new designer, and how will I even start that now and how many issues will we miss? And then there’s Grady, and I like him, but I don’t really want to do this just with him, and it’s senior year. I mean, it’s senior year.”
She picked up the cookie. “Then again, what if we do something and realize we do click, like, really click, and we spend all this time together, which naturally means the paper’s going to suffer, and then I’ll never have a shot at Northwestern, which I probably don’t anymore anyway without the Fit to Print award, so I stay here and live here and go to community college, which frankly I probably want to do anyway because I don’t want to leave him and he doesn’t want to leave me and then here we are in this same town probably living in this same apartment complex twenty years from now.” Cat shoved the cookie in her mouth and said between chewing, “Um, so, yeah, there’s that.”
Gramps jiggled his head. “That we share the same blood is perhaps the only reason I followed that. But humor me. This boy ask you to marry him?”
“Geez, of course not, Gramps.”
“What did he ask exactly?”
“Bowling.”
“Bowling. He asked you bowling, and you got all of that?”
Cat curled her feet underneath her on the dining room chair. “If I’m a bit of an overthinker, I have you to blame.”
“Blame accepted. Because without the ability to think and analyze, you couldn’t be the journalist you need to be.”
“What kind is that? Unemployed? They don’t need us, Gramps. And more than that, they don’t want us. No one cares about the truth. Social media’s the new evolution. Weeding out anyone with a conscious or independent thought.”
“When did you become so cynical?”
“When The Shrieking Violet got more readers in a day than I got in three years. Fake news does such a good job of pretending to be real, the only way we can compete is to write everything in listicle form.”
Gramps pressed his hands to his belly. “I can’t pretend I’m not worried. As a society, we are running the risk of losing touch with what truth is, but that doesn’t mean it no longer matters. When figuring out what’s true gets this hard, it’s almost understandable that people just go on and believe the lies. It’s easier to find sources that reinforce existing ideas rather than challenge ourselves by seeking an objective truth.”
“Ms. Lute talked about that. The responsibility consumers of information have.”
The wrinkles around his green eyes deepened. “True, but we can’t let journalists off the hook. The news isn’t static, and neither is the industry. We’ve gone from newspapers being political megaphones to prizing objectivity because, at least at first
, bias meant half your readership bought another paper. Not so good with advertisers looking to reach as many wallets as possible.” He spread his hands wide. “So, change. I saw it with television. Its immediacy with breaking news meant we had to offer something else. So we implemented the series and deep investigative reports that would take us weeks and months. Now it’s social media’s turn.”
“Making journalists entertainers with fruit juice and sustainable underwear sponsors.”
“Grams’s sass.” He smiled approvingly. “Still, I don’t believe the ethics and standards of journalism need to change, but the methods might have to. Let’s use our platforms. Let’s boast about our fact-checking, legal reviews, source confirmation. Show how we’re different. Show how we do what the others don’t. Help consumers choose us.”
Cat considered what he’d said. “But we probably also need to adapt.” She thought of the changes both Leo and Angeline were proposing to a school stuck in the past. “We can’t push an old system onto a culture that expects something different.”
“See? This is why it’s not so bad to be an overthinker.”
“It won’t be the same.”
“Probably not.” He split a cookie, giving her half. “Ah, Cathleen, we can never replace what we’ve lost, but we can create something new, maybe something even better. In life, in family, in love. We just have to pivot.”
* * *
Cat waited in front of the hardware store. She tucked her hands in the pockets of her khaki skirt to wipe away their clamminess. She should have changed. She’d worn the same long-sleeved black tee that she’d had on in school. He’d seen her in it, and not just today, all the time. Plain, no frills, so not Angeline.
And he liked her anyway.
Ravi came from the direction of the parking lot behind the store. He hadn’t changed either. Same green cargo shorts, same Boston tee, just with a gray hoodie over it. His hair fell in his eyes, and he swooped it back—knowing, Cat suspected, exactly how cute he looked doing it.
“The draw is that strong, huh?” he said. “Just couldn’t wait even one more day.”
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