“It’s not a big deal,” Jen murmurs, her cheeks turning red as she glances around us, at the people who can overhear the conversation.
“Okay, everyone!” Ms. McNair calls out, prompting the class to begin.
Holly’s face is a perfect mask of guilt—eyes round, forehead pinched.
Emmett reaches over to smooth an affectionate hand over her back. “It’s okay. It was an honest mistake.”
As McNair begins talking about this past weekend’s reading assignment, Emmett glances over his shoulder to frown at me, shake his head, and mouth, “What was that?” before turning to face front again.
My stomach drops. I’ve managed to make myself look like the jerk in Emmett’s eyes.
That was definitely not my intention.
* * *
I trail Emmett and Holly out of first period, my stomach in knots, wishing I’d never corrected her for something so dumb as a name, especially when Jen doesn’t have the nerve to speak up about it.
“Catch you later?” Emmett leans down to kiss Holly, and I duck around them to get to my locker, wishing I could just go home and curl up in bed. It’s going to be an agonizing day of regret and pondering if I—
“What was that about, AJ?” Emmett’s voice behind me startles me so much, I drop my textbook on the floor.
I swallow against the ache in my throat as he reaches down to collect it and hand it to me. “You made Holly feel like crap. And you embarrassed Jen in front of everyone. Why would you do that? I didn’t think you were like that.”
“I’m not! I just …” I peer up into those dark-brown eyes staring down at me, the mix of confusion and disappointment in them unmistakable. That look, I can’t bear. “Holly’s not who you think she is.”
“What?” He frowns and a doubtful smirk curls his lips. “What are you talking about?”
I glance around the hallway. Students shuffle along, teachers linger. “I can’t show you right here. It’s on my phone.”
“Send it to me—”
“No.” I shake my head furtively. My mother would see it. Plus, what if it somehow gets shared? Things like that have a way of getting passed along, and then people will think I sit in bathroom stalls and record students. Tension tightens my shoulders with that thought.
He huffs. “Fine. Follow me.”
My heart pounds as Emmett leads me down the hallway, checking each classroom that we pass. As soon as we come across one without lights on, he tests the door handle to find it unlocked and leads me in, closing the door behind us. “Show me.” His jaw is hard.
My hands are shaking as I pull out my phone and find the video. We only have a few minutes before the second-period bell goes. Luckily, math class is only three doors down. I talk fast as I explain. “I was in the girls’ washroom at lunch, texting my mom, and Holly came in with her friend and they started talking about anniversary gift ideas. So I figured I’d get you some clues. Please don’t tell anyone how you heard this.”
I focus on my shoes, my blood pounding in my ears as Holly’s fake sweet voice and cackle fill the empty, dark classroom, as Emmett hears the words that I’ve all but memorized. Even the embarrassing ones about me. If I had known this was going to happen, I would have edited the video to cut that part out.
I don’t dare look up again until it’s over. Emmett is staring at the screen, his jaw clenched.
“I swear, the only reason I recorded that was to help you with gift ideas. I didn’t know if I should tell you or not—”
“Bell’s about to go.” His thumb moves fast.
“What are you—”
“I texted it to myself.” He thrusts my phone into my hand.
My stomach drops. See how fast that can happen, Aria? “Please don’t send it anywhere—”
“I won’t. I promise.” And then he’s gone, out the door and down the hall, ignoring the nods and greetings of passing friends.
And I’m running to second period, praying I didn’t just make things worse.
Dreading what my mother is going to say when she sees that video and figures out what I’ve done.
* * *
“It’s raining!” Cassie announces with a hint of panic as we push through the doors after school, squinting up at the overcast sky.
“It’s only spitting. But we should hurry home before it gets worse.”
“Wait.” She reaches back to pull her hood up over her head and yank the strings tight, until her face is tightly framed by her jacket. “Okay, I’m ready.”
Despite my dour mood, I smile at her.
“What?” she asks, her face splitting into a grin. “Do I look funny?”
“A little bit. But it’s okay because you’ll stay dry. Come on.” We take the sidewalk that leads past the parking lot, toward home.
“There’s Emmett!”
I follow her finger to where Emmett stands, next to his open trunk, facing Holly. His arms are folded across his chest, his face carved in stone. Holly keeps shaking her head and swiping her fingers across her cheek, as if to wipe away tears.
“Hi, Emmett!” Cassie calls, waving frantically, oblivious to their bodily cues that scream, “Do not disturb.”
Holly reaches for his arm and he jerks his shoulder away.
“No. We’re done,” I think I see him mouth.
Holy shit.
This is because of me, because of the video I showed him.
“Emmett!” Cassie calls again. “Holly!”
“You know what? They look like they’re having a serious conversation,” I say slowly. “So we should keep going and you can talk to him later tonight.”
“Yeah. Okay,” she agrees, but she doesn’t move, her eyes narrowing. “I think Holly’s crying.”
“Yeah, I think she might be.”
“Oh no! What’s wrong? Is she hurt?” Rare and genuine grief fills Cassie’s voice.
“I don’t know,” I lie. Callous as Holly’s words may have been, I don’t doubt her feelings for Emmett are real. Which means we’re standing here, watching her heart get ripped out of her chest. “But we should leave them alone, okay?”
Emmett slams his trunk and climbs into the driver’s seat. In seconds, he’s pulling out, leaving Holly there, hugging herself, her face a picture of devastation.
“Holly! Hi!” Cassie waves frantically, as if either she didn’t hear me or she’s choosing to ignore me. “Are you okay?”
Holly looks over at us and then spins on her heels and marches toward her Civic, digging her keys out of her pocket.
Cassie watches, an odd mixture of hurt, confusion, and curiosity filling her face. What’s going on in that head of hers at this moment? How is she’s interpreting this?
“Come on. Let’s go home.”
She squints up at the sky again and pauses a few beats. “Is it raining?” she asks, as fat drops splatter over her lenses.
I sigh. “Yeah. It’s raining.”
* * *
My pant legs are soaked and my stomach is in knots by the time I step through the front door.
Uncle Merv is sitting in his usual spot, but his eyes are closed and he’s wearing big black headphones, plugged into the tablet my mother bought him last week. To bring him into this century, she claimed.
“Hey, hon! How was your day?” Mom calls out from the kitchen, her voice light and unsuspecting. Not the voice of an angry person.
I find her seated at the old kitchen table with her tea, smiling. “Look at this old wedding photo of Connie and Merv. I found it in a pile of paperwork and had it retouched and framed.” She holds up the picture for me to see. “Look how young Uncle Merv was!”
She hasn’t listened to the text Emmett forwarded from my phone. Not yet, anyway. I exhale with the bit of relief this brings me.
“Young and thin.” Toothpick thin, with long, skinny legs.
She chuckles. “I’m going to hang it up in the living room for him, as soon as I can find a hammer.”
An array of pamphlets is spread ou
t on the table in front of her. “What’s all this?”
“Oh, I’ve had it with these dinosaur appliances. They’re at least a hundred years old. That oven is uneven and the dishwasher doesn’t clean a thing. Mick said he’d install it if I have it delivered. And …,” she waves a hand at the exterior paint catalogue, “I was thinking about having the front of the house freshened up in the spring. It always used to look so nice, with the flowers and the clean, white porch. Aunt Connie would sit out there every afternoon and crochet.” She smiles, more to herself. “It’s time to bring back some of that charm to this old place.”
I was half kidding when I told Uncle Merv that his house would be unrecognizable by the time Mom went back to work, but I’m not so sure that will be wrong. She’s spending a lot of money for a person who’s currently unemployed. I know she made a lot off the sale of our house out west. I overheard her talking to the realtor about how it was the best investment she’d ever made—a case of buying at the right time, in the right place. Plus, between my dad and her both being lawyers, and only having one kid, I never wanted for much.
I notice the plate of fruit on the table between us. “Is that for me?”
She shrugs. “You complained about needing a break from all the baking, so there you go. Plus, the freezer is full of zucchini bread. Sit, and talk to me.” She smiles warmly. “Tell me about your day.”
My day was horrible, Mom. Like crawl-under-my-covers-and-never-come-out horrible. There was nothing good about today. And I’m torn between confessing this to her—because I’ll have to give details—and lying, telling her that everything is fine. Except, she’s probably going to watch that video. Tonight or tomorrow, or next week. And when she does, it’s all going to come out. I’ll have no choice but to explain, and my mother will start to worry that I’m hiding things from her again.
I swallow my anxiety and fear. “Number one …”
* * *
Mom sets my phone down on the table, having listened to the recording twice. Her face is unreadable as she takes a sip of her tea. “Well, that girl’s a piece of work.”
“She’s awful. I don’t care what she said about me. But it’s Cassie and Jen.” Mom listens quietly as I fill her in on Jen and Holly’s history, of how cruel Holly has been to Jen in the past. And each cringe from my mother, each frown, each headshake emboldens me, makes me think that I did the right thing.
“This is not okay, Aria.” She taps my phone. “Recording other girls in your school like that is not okay—”
“Mom, I know!” Tears prick my eyes. Of all people, I know.
“Of course, you do,” she says, squeezing the bridge of her nose. “What did Emmett say?”
“Nothing to me, but he was mad. And I’m pretty sure he dumped her after school. That’s what it looked like it in the parking lot, anyway.”
She nods through a quiet sip of tea. “At least he has his priorities straight.”
“He’s the one who forwarded the video to himself, right after he watched it, before I knew what he was doing. I didn’t send that to him.”
She waggles a finger at me. “See how fast something like that can happen—”
“I know, Mom.” I feel like I’ve said that a hundred times since sitting down. “He promised he wouldn’t send it anywhere else.” I just don’t know if I can believe him.
She purses her lips. “I saw that text come through earlier today, but I didn’t open it. I don’t want to be snooping and monitoring you. Especially when it comes to Emmett and Cassie.” She drums her fingers over the table’s surface. “That’s why you’re telling me now, isn’t it? Because you figured I might see it.”
I shrug and avert my eyes to the table. Guilty as charged.
“I’m glad you told me, Aria. I’m not happy about any of this but your heart was in the right place, which is the important part here. Hopefully, this Holly girl will learn a valuable lesson from this.” She spins the appliance pamphlet around. “Do you think we should go with all black? Or stainless steel?”
I blink at her. Is that it? Is that all she’s going to say?
“Or there’s this model that’s a mix of black and stainless steel. That could be good.”
“Uh … What would Uncle Merv like?”
She waves that thought away with a laugh. “Oh, he doesn’t care. I set him up with an audiobook account and he’s been in that chair all day, quiet. He’s in heaven.” She gives me a pointed look. “And, now, so am I.”
* * *
Emmett pulls into his driveway at nine thirty that night, as I’m curled up on my window seat, my textbook in my lap, halfway through my functions and quadratic equations homework.
He climbs out, pops his trunk, and hauls his equipment out, only to toss the bag haphazardly on the grass beside his SUV.
He looks up at my window.
Do I pretend I’m not watching him? Do I wave hello? Do I keep staring out my window, debating what I should do, until this gets super awkward?
He slides his phone out of his back pocket.
A moment later, my phone chirps with an incoming text.
Can you come out to talk?
A mixture of excitement and dread erupts inside me. I have no idea how this conversation is going to go. Marking my textbook page, I head downstairs to the tune of Uncle Merv’s deep snore carrying from his bedroom. Mom glances up from the living room couch, an Ontario law textbook in her lap, her reading glasses perched on her nose. “Where are you going?”
“Outside, to talk to Emmett.” I slip on my shoes. “Be back in a bit.”
“Okay. I hope he’s doing okay.”
Oddly enough, I feel relieved that this isn’t a burning secret between us. I hesitate. “I’m glad I told you.”
She slides her glasses off to regard me. “I’m glad you told me too, hon.”
With each step I take across our lawn and toward the Hartford driveway, where Emmett half leans, half sits against his trunk, his head bowed, my nervousness grows.
“Hey.” I hug my body against the evening chill, wishing I’d grabbed a sweater. “How was practice?”
“Shit.” He chuckles darkly. “Coach yelled at me to get my head into it. Actually, I had skating sessions with a bunch of seven- and eight-year-olds first and then a late practice. It’s been a long night.”
Uncomfortable silence lingers.
“So, about that video …” He shifts to the far side of his trunk, making room for me.
I move in to settle next to him, inhaling his familiar, intoxicating scent. “Like I said before, I only did it because she was talking about your anniversary. I thought she might list a few things and I didn’t want to forget. I wasn’t sure I should even play it for you.”
He sighs heavily. “I know Cassie can be a lot to handle. I lose my patience with her sometimes. A lot, actually. She’s got all these weird little quirks and things about her and sometimes she seems more like a five-year-old than a fifteen-year-old. There are days that I wish she could be like everyone else.” His throat bobs with a hard swallow. “But then she’d be a different person. She wouldn’t be who she is, and I wouldn’t want that either. And she’s my sister. I just …” He bows his head.
“You don’t have to explain. I didn’t like the way Holly talked about her either, and she’s not my sister. Cassie doesn’t deserve that.” And I mean it, crush on Emmett or not. Cassie spent the entire walk home worrying about whether Holly was okay.
He kicks a loose stone with his shoe, sending it flying. “I broke up with Holly after school.”
I temper my voice to sound sympathetic—the bubble of happiness I’m feeling is wrong, I remind myself. “Yeah, we saw you guys in the parking lot. It didn’t look great.”
“She didn’t take it well. Drained my phone battery with all her texts tonight, apologizing over and over again. I haven’t responded yet.”
A dark, unwanted thought stirs in me. “Do you think you can forgive her?” What if he takes her back?
“She says she didn’t mean it, but that’s bullshit. And even if she’s sorry about it, she still said it. And now I know the kinds of things she’s thinking while she’s smiling and pretending to be sweet. I can’t trust her.” He shakes his head. “You should have seen the look on her face when I played that recording.”
My stomach clenches. “You didn’t tell her where you got it, did you?”
“No, don’t worry. She asked, but she doesn’t need to know.”
I sigh with relief. “Good. I don’t need a rumor floating around that I hide in bathroom stalls and record people’s conversations.”
“When did it happen anyway?”
“Last Friday. I didn’t know what to do. But then I figured you’d want to know.”
He chews his bottom lip. “So that’s why you were acting so weird.” And then he cringes. “Not weird. Tense. You’re not weird. Ignore what she said. And I didn’t invite you out to Zach’s because I felt sorry for you.”
I shrug, even as my cheeks heat. Thank God for the dark of night.
Do you think she has a thing for him?
Oh, for sure she does.
What does he think about that part? Does the idea that it could be true bother him?
“I guess it’s a good thing I didn’t get that necklace with the hockey stick charm.”
“I guess not.” I’d wear it with pride.
He laughs, but it’s not his usual laugh; it’s a hollow sound. “I should get inside. I have a ton of homework to do and right now I just want to sleep.” The car lifts as he stands. “By the way, I’m going to drop out of cross-country.”
“Really?” My disappointment swells.
“I’ve got too much going on this year and I don’t need to deal with seeing Holly any more than I have to. It’s bad enough we have a class together. It’s too late to switch out or I would.”
Thank God for that.
He hoists the enormous hockey bag over his shoulder. “I’ll still run with you on the mornings that you’re not at practice, though. If you want. I need the exercise.”
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