by Sarah White
I take the note to Mrs. Cramier and then head into the catacomb of rooms in the student activities office to find Angie. When I see her, she is bent over the rally signs we’ve been working on this week. I sit on the edge of the long paper so she doesn’t have to hold it while writing the message down the length of the clean white strip.
“Thanks, Everly.” She glances up at me. “It’s totally worth the long walk to see the boys in the pool, huh?” She smiles coyly and I feel my cheeks redden. “Oh, come on. I know it hasn’t been that long since you and Brady broke up, but prom is coming and it’s pretty much an unwritten rule that the secretary of activities has to go. You need to get back out there with your head up and find a date. I could ask Carl to help set you up,” she says, swirling the flat marker brush in the shape of an R.
“I know. I’ll figure it out. Did you get your dress yet?” I hope that she’ll be excited enough about the details of her dress that she will forget about my pathetic situation.
“My mom took me last night. I thought she would say no because it’s shorter than the one I wore last year, but she said it was still classy so she let me have it.” Angie had her eyes on that dress for a month. It was in the window of the most popular dress store at the mall. She’d shown me pictures of it, and I even made a special pass in front of the store the last time Rosie and I went shopping so I could see it in person.
“It’s going to look great on you.” I move off the paper so we can roll it up and set it aside to work on another one.
“Thanks. Did you buy that red dress you were thinking about?” She stands and rests her hand on her hip. She has been so supportive of me over the whole Brady and Elle situation, I know she’s only asking because she cares about how crappy it would be if I had.
“No. I don’t think I want to wear that one anymore.” I pull the long piece of butcher paper off the roll and she tears off the perfect amount for another sign. We work very well together.
“Probably best to start fresh,” she says, squatting down to sit on the end so I can use the markers.
“Tell me about your plans. Are you guys staying close for dinner or driving downtown?”
Angie launches into a description of how she and her boyfriend, Carl, and another couple are going to drive to Santa Monica for dinner so that they can stretch the night out as long as possible. “There’s room for two more in the limo,” she says, practically singing the words. “You and your date should come with us. It will be good for you to get away from the usual group of people. Come out with us. I can even have Carl set you up with a friend of his from Saint Anthony’s.”
I give her a noncommittal “maybe.” It’s sweet of her to offer, but I’m not exactly leaping at the chance to spend the night with a group of people who, with the exception of Angie, I’m not really close to, and a date from the local Catholic school who is probably either going with me because Angie forced him to or because he is hoping that in my vulnerable state I’ll hook up with him.
Finally the bell rings, signaling the end of the school day. Angie grabs her backpack as I put away the last few items. “You ready, Angie?” Lisa says from the doorway, giving me a small wave when I look up.
“Yep. I’m ready.” She moves toward the exit but turns around right before she steps outside. “You should sit with us at lunch tomorrow. We could talk about prom—or not.” She shrugs her shoulders, letting me know she’ll help if I need it but won’t push.
I pack up my backpack slowly while everyone else files out of the room. The other kids rush to leave, but I know that there is a chance the cheer squad will still be practicing on the front lawn and I want to give them plenty of time to leave the area before I walk to my car.
When I’m sure the coast is clear, I make my way out to the nearly empty parking lot. Out of habit I look for Brady’s truck. It’s parked in his usual spot in the first row among the other football players’ vehicles. Interestingly, I also find myself looking for the big truck from the other day, but it’s nowhere in sight.
five
WHEN I GET home I toss my keys onto the small table near the door and head up to my room. I can hear Rosie’s music down the hall so I drop my bag off in my room and make my way to her door. I knock a few times. “Come in,” she shouts over the song.
“What are you listening to?” I ask, sitting down on the edge of her bed. She’s at her desk staring at her homework, but I don’t know how she could get anything done with the music on so loud. As if she could read my mind, she reaches up and turns it down.
“It’s a new band Dawn told me about. She heard them on KROQ this morning.” She scoots her chair back and stands up so she can join me on her bed. “Today was pretty brutal, huh?”
I shrug my shoulders. “I just feel like this whole thing is getting out of control.”
“It’s awful,” she agrees, lying back on her bed and stuffing a pillow beneath her head. “People said they saw you and Kendall talking after third period.”
“She was waiting for me outside my class. Honestly, she’ll never know how much I appreciate her asking me about what was being said instead of just believing it.”
“It’s crazy. By the time I got to cheer I’d been asked by four different people if you and Kendall were really going to fight.”
I shake my head and let out a breath. “Kendall knew the stories were out of hand, but she wanted to find out if I knew where they started.” I move up next to Rosie and rest my head on her pillow. She’s now picking at her nail polish.
“Did you tell her Elle started it?”
“We don’t know that for sure,” I say, turning my head so I can see her face better.
“She might not have said what was going around by the end of the day, but I know for a fact she told Heather that you told her you liked Kendall’s boyfriend. Heather told me she’s the one who told Kendall.” Rosie pulls a large piece of her polish off.
“The only thing I can remember is saying he’s cute after seeing a prom picture of Kendall with her date last year. How Elle twisted that into liking him, I have no idea.” I cross my legs and kick my foot up and down. Rosie mimics my position.
“I don’t even know her anymore,” she says with disgust. “She’s really making a mess of things.”
“I don’t understand why she’s stirring up so much drama. She already has Brady, why does she feel the need to go around and light a bunch of fires to my other friendships?” I pause, glancing over at Rosie. “The thing is, I did say some things about our friends—not anything terrible,” I say quickly, “but I definitely vented to her.”
Rosie looks at me again. “We all say things. We all have opinions. You never meant for any of that to actually be heard by the person. She’s not playing fair. I think she might just be panicking. Maybe she’s trying to get people on her side before they have a chance to think about what it says about her that she’s capable of doing what she did to her best friend. With all the facts, people will think she’s terrible.”
“Because she is terrible,” I say softly, but it still hurts to say something bad about her. I wonder when I’ll get over that. I have all the facts and there is still a part of me that doesn’t want to believe it’s true.
“It just seems like she’s changed so much,” Rosie says, and I realize that deep down she is struggling with it too.
“I think that’s the part that hurts the most. If she were acting like the same old Elle, I’d eventually get over what she did with Brady. But every day it seems like there’s something else she’s done to unravel our friendship.”
“What are you going to do about it?” Rosie flips over onto her stomach so she can see me better.
“What can I do? There’s no way of knowing what she’s going to say or do next.”
“Why don’t you talk to her? Maybe then she’ll stop starting rumors out of desperation.” I think about it for a minute.
“The thing is, I was willing to hear her out when she called me that night after I fou
nd out about her and Brady. But the fact that she said she was sorry, and then followed it up with ‘but,’ like there was anything that could follow that word that would justify what they’d done, just hurt way too much. That’s why I hung up and haven’t been accepting her calls. Besides, she may have said ‘sorry’ but her actions are showing me a different story. Hooking up with Brady might have been a mistake, but everything she did after that showed me her character. She’s not the kind of person I want in my life.”
Rosie nods her head. “I get it. And if Brady and Elle are out of your life, then they’re out of mine too. I just wish getting them out of your life fixed it, you know? I want you to start feeling better.”
“I want to feel better too. I want to go to sleep and wake up months from now when all the rumors have passed and no one can even remember a time when Elle and I were friends. I just want to completely fall off the social radar. If I knew how to fast-forward my life to a time when walking on campus didn’t give me a panic attack I’d do it.”
“There might not be anything we can do to erase them from your life, but maybe you could do something for yourself that would show people you don’t care anymore.”
“Any ideas?” I tease, kicking her foot with my own.
“Actually, I’ve been thinking. Do you remember last year when Dawn’s boyfriend broke up with her? She started dating again right away. I thought it was strange that she was talking to other boys when she still seemed brokenhearted, but she told me it helped, even though she knew that it probably wouldn’t work out with any of the guys. I don’t know . . . maybe it would help you to get back out there.” Her voice sounds so hopeful.
“I’m not ready for that,” I say adamantly. “I just don’t think I could talk to another guy yet. What if I always compare him to Brady? What if he hurts me worse than Brady did?” I chew nervously on my lip.
“Not all guys are like that. What about someone from student council? Or maybe have a friend set you up with a boy who doesn’t even go to our school.” Her face lights up with the idea.
“I’ll think about it.” I don’t have the heart to tell her that I don’t think I’ll be ready to trust someone for a long time.
I hear the front door open and the clanking sound of Mom’s keys as she tosses them onto the table. “Girls? I’m home.”
“We’re up here,” we say in unison and then giggle. My mom makes her way up the stairs and then opens the bedroom door.
“Dad is stuck in a meeting. I’m too tired to cook and I’ve really been craving that Italian restaurant with the fresh-baked bread. What do you say we go out tonight and you can tell me all about your day?” She leans against the doorway and I can see how tired she is. Yet even with everything she has on her plate, she’s been there for me through all of this. I smile at her and then at my sister, feeling truly grateful to have such an amazing support group.
“I’m in!” Rosie shouts, jumping up from the bed and then offering me a hand to help me up. I’m not very hungry, and the stress of the day has made my stomach hurt, but I won’t miss the chance to spend time with my mom and Rosie.
“All right. I’m in too.” Rosie pulls me up to my feet and the relief on their faces does not go unnoticed by me. It makes me want to work harder on getting myself back together. As Rosie slips on her shoes, my mom pulls me into a tight hug, resting her cheek on my head.
“I’m proud of you, kiddo. Baby steps.”
six
A FEW DAYS later as I’m driving to Laura’s office, I find myself wondering if I will see Gabe again. I haven’t thought about him much since I saw him at swim practice, but I’m still curious what his story is. I’m a little surprised at the quick pang of disappointment I feel when I see that the waiting room is empty. I take my usual spot on the couch and flip open the book to my place.
A few minutes later the door beside the couch swings open and I look up for just a second to watch him slip in. I haven’t been in here for longer than five minutes, which means we have another five or so before our appointment times. There are only two other people in here now, scattered around the room and reading magazines. I hold my breath, wondering if he’ll sit down beside me again, but pretending to read and trying not to be obvious.
I watch his feet as they pass in front of me, just barely visible over the top of my page. The couch cushion dips with his weight as he settles in on the other edge.
I debate with myself whether I should say anything to him, acknowledge that I saw him at school, for another minute before my curiosity about who he is gets the best of me. “You smell like chlorine,” I whisper, glancing over at him, my lips curling up in a smile.
“I live in that damn pool,” he says, pulling his hoodie up to his nose to investigate.
“Do you play on the water polo team?” I take my eyes from the page and look into his. Another color I hadn’t noticed before. I’d seen the blue and green last time, but now there are little flecks of yellow that seem to glow when he smiles.
“Yep. It’s my fourth year on the team. I’ve played on private teams since second grade. Today was just swim practice, though.”
“Wow, that’s a long time to stick with a sport. Why water polo?”
“My dad played water polo in high school and college. He was even in the Junior Olympics. He thought it could be something we could practice together. He’s pretty busy now with work, but he never misses a game.”
“That’s so great he did that. I’m a little embarrassed to say I’ve never been to a game. I’m the secretary of activities and just recently I realized I attend less than a quarter of the activities at our school. Kind of stupid, really.”
“You should come. It’s pretty intense.”
“I’ll be sure to. Why haven’t I ever seen you around campus?” I ask him quietly. The lady across from us is looking over her magazine to sneak a peek in our direction. I smile at her and she smiles back before lifting the glossy mag up again.
“You probably have seen me, actually. We had Spanish together our freshman year.” I feel my brows pull together. Surely I would have noticed him. When I don’t say anything he chuckles. “I looked a lot different. I’ve grown an entire foot since then. I sat in the back.”
“You’ll have to excuse me. I’m finding that I’ve apparently had my head up my ass for a few years.” He laughs and the woman is back to watching us, clearly more entertained by our conversation than by what she is reading.
“Don’t worry about it. It’s not important. It makes sense, though.” He rubs his hand along the very short hair on his head.
“What makes sense?” I ask him, looking hard at the inquisitive woman until she goes back to her reading.
“You having your head up your ass. It explains the whole Brady Taylor phase. It makes a little more sense now.” When I look back at him he winks.
“Is that what that was?” I ask, smiling. It’s oddly reassuring to hear someone teasing me about liking Brady instead of feeling sorry for me for having lost him to Elle. Although I won’t deny that a little part of my heart protests with an ache, as if trying to remind me that it once would have bothered me to hear someone say anything negative about Brady.
“Clearly.” For the first time since the breakup, I laugh. Not a forced laugh to appease my mom or sister, but a genuine laugh that even has the woman behind the desk shooting looks in our direction.
His therapist opens his office door first. He stands up, but instead of going in he turns to me. “I hope this doesn’t seem weird, but I’ve read everything John Green has written, and I noticed last time you were carrying around his latest.” He pulls a book out of his hoodie pocket and says, “Have you read this one yet?”
“No, but I was actually thinking about picking it up this weekend. I’ve only read one of his books and now I can’t wait to get my hands on all of them.”
His cheeks lift slightly in a smile as he holds it out for me to take. “You should read this next. It’s my favorite of his.”
<
br /> I nod my head and take it from his hand. “Thank you.”
He ducks his head, tucks his spiral notebook under his arm, and then walks into the office. I flip open the book and see that Gabe is written in black ink along with a phone number. I’m not really sure how but even though he is practically a stranger it feels like Gabe is already a friend. I’m smiling when Laura opens her door and asks me if there’s anything new.
seven
THE NEXT DAY I grab my lunch bag from my locker and keep my head down as I make my way over to where I’ve been eating lunch for the last few weeks. While I was never as close to anyone else in our group as I was with Brady and Elle, I genuinely considered them my friends. I thought they felt the same way, but now that Brady and I are over, I feel like I lost some of them in the split. Sure, my old friends talk to me in class or when he isn’t around, but the way things happened between the three of us makes navigating a group setting a little awkward.
If I wanted to sit where I used to sit while I was with Brady, I imagine no one would tell me to leave, but having the three of us in the same place at the same time might interrupt the casual flow of conversation. I hate to make situations awkward and I don’t want our friends to feel like they’re in the middle, even though I’m still hurt that some of them knew about the betrayal and chose not to tell me. Also, I’m just not ready to spend my lunch hour watching Brady and Elle hang all over each other or listening to them talking about their plans for the weekend. I know I shouldn’t be avoiding it, but it feels so much safer to eat somewhere else.
My snack break and lunch are now spent keeping my head down and finding open classrooms or less crowded quads to hang out in. I work on homework or read so that my eyes aren’t constantly darting around. At first, a few of the groups that weren’t used to me sitting near them seemed disturbed. They lowered their voices or tightened their circles, but when they saw that I was content to sit alone and not try to awkwardly join them, they went back to business as usual.