Paul looks at me and smiles—the one happy face in this crowd.
“All the ‘chance’ meetups you had this summer, all the dates. They were all set up. All lies,” he says. “The boys were playing you to win. Every member of your family lied to you. Even your two friends got in on the action—although I guess Emily had a brief moment of conscience. But… it’s not like she told you what was really going on. I’m the only truth. I’m the only one who actually cares about you, Jaz. Who’s cared for you since we were fourteen. What you and I have is real. The rest of this…” He looks at my family and friends with disgust. “Is a reality show.”
I lock eyes with Cari. Deny it. Please. Deny it all and I’ll believe you.
I wait. Her eyes are glassy, her lips parted.
Words fail to leave my mouth and it’s almost like another voice says, “Is it true?” But it was me. I just asked my sister if she set up an entire dating charade.
She looks away. And I know: Everything I experienced this summer was a lie. And everyone I know and love was in on it.
So, I do what any intelligent, grown woman would do: I turn and run away before I start crying in front of everyone.
CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO
DAVEY’S SORRY FAMILY GROUP TEXT
JUNE 21
Cari
Jaz knows about the contest
Uncle Steve
Oh noooo
Cousin Joe
What? How?
Cousin Wylan
Oh shit. Who told her?
Aunt Regina
Language. But, oh shit
Mom
Wait, I thought you all were at the block party. What happened?
Scumbag Paul showed up and told her about Cari’s podcast
Uncle Steve
Oh NO
Aunt Minnie
That boy. You should have gone old country on him, Nonna Ventura
Nonna
I’m saying. My sweet Jasmine, though
Cousin Teagan
Poor Jaz. How is she?
Dad
She ran off. We’ve really messed up, fam. I couldn’t even argue with what that boy spewed because it was true. We crossed the line, we bet on the boys, we all lied to her
(One full minute of total silence.)
Aunt Regina
We got carried away
Uncle Carlos
We lost sight of what was best for her
Cari
It’s my fault, guys. I… I pushed the idea. I wanted the podcast more than I wanted her to be happy. I didn’t shut it down. I should’ve and I didn’t. I loved having the success
Mom
Oh, Cari
Aunt Jay
No. It isn’t just your fault. It’s all of us. We wanted to do this for Jaz. And, yes, we went overboard, but it came from a good place. And for a while she was happy. That has to count
Cousin Madison
It does, but we still took away her ability to choose this. We thought we knew better
Cousin Wylan
Damn, sis. You’re actually right
Aunt Tammy
I feel so bad, y’all. She must feel… betrayed
Mom
Has anyone tried to talk to her? I wish I could be there, but I can’t leave until the storm passes. I’ve texted her, but she hasn’t replied
Aunt Kim
We can all come by after the storm is over
Cari
I don’t know how to say this, but she doesn’t want to talk to any of us. We’ve all tried and she won’t answer. Aunt Jay, can you have Eugene text her? He may be the only person she’ll talk to. I just don’t want her to be alone rn
Aunt Jay
I’ll try
CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE
I thought I knew heartbreak earlier this summer when Paul wanted to see other people, but apparently that was just a dress rehearsal, because this, this is the deepest I’ve ever been hurt. It’s hard to breathe. And I have no one to turn to because every single person in my life betrayed me. The thing that I feared the most in the world just happened: I’m truly alone.
And, God, does it suck.
I clutch my pillow as my tears rain onto my blue floral pillowcase. The party is still going outside. There’s music, kids playing, and laughter while I’m in my bedroom crying, and somehow that makes everything worse. The earth stopped for me, but not anyone else.
Someone knocks on my door again.
After I ran in here, I locked my door for the first time since I can remember. There have been various knocks with my supposed friends and loved ones trying to talk to me. I don’t bother answering. It doesn’t matter who it is.
They knock again softer and I ignore that too. Then footsteps move away from my door.
My phone dings yet again and I don’t check it. It’s someone trying to explain and there’s no point. Paul explained everything. They all lied to me. They thought I was so pathetic that they set up a whole fake dating contest to… what? To get rid of Paul? So that I wouldn’t be such a saddo? Because they didn’t think I could meet boys on my own? Thanks, I guess.
All the things that didn’t make sense this summer come flooding back. The aunties at my party talking about a contest. Crystal and Amberlynn saying “winning” at Publix when I was with Eugene. Joe and Teagan happening to stop in for frozen yogurt before Aaron showed up. The family talking about bets and then seeming odd when they said it was fantasy football. Emily and June insisting I change shirts before volunteering at the shelter. Justin just happening to come to the bookstore. Eugene running into me at Publix.
These were orchestrated. They were all playing a game.
My phone chimes one more time and I don’t know why, but I’m compelled to check it. I want to hurl it across the room. I want to throw it into the sea. But I’m too logical. I’ve always been so logical and grounded and yet I was able to be duped for weeks.
I’ve downloaded all four episodes of Cari’s podcast, but I haven’t hit play yet. I have a whole day tomorrow where I can relive every moment of this humiliation. I just can’t do it right now.
I have new messages from Mom again, Paul, Emily, nearly all my family, but there’s a text I didn’t expect: it’s from Eugene.
And even in my worst moment, I wipe my face like he can see me and sit up. On my screen are the three unanswered messages I sent and the one from him.
Captain Eugene Crunch
Thank you so much again for the amazing beach day
So I definitely need the recipe for that white bean dip. What’s a girl gotta do to get it? Sky diving? Ax juggling? Bull running?
Hey. What are you up to?
I’ve really wanted to respond to these, but I didn’t want to lie to you anymore. You deserve better
I stare at his response and the first feeling is anger. Overwhelming, surging anger. Of course I deserve better. My fingers pound against the glass screen of my phone as I peck out a reply.
I guess lying to me the rest of the time was okay
Gray bubbles appear as he types and types. Every time he pauses and the bubbles disappear, my heart stops like he’s not going to reply. Finally, a message comes through. I expect a novel, but I don’t get one.
No. It was never okay. But I didn’t expect to fall for you
My breath leaves my lungs. I stare at the words—he fell for me. He fell for me the same way I fell for him. Our time together, our words, those feelings, those kisses, all meant something. It wasn’t just in my head.
A relieved thrill courses through me. I almost smile, but… I shouldn’t feel anything because how can I trust his words? They feel real, but everything felt real and none of it was.
The truth is, I can’t trust him or my feelings. He’s a contestant in a game show. For all I know this is another twist. I doubt it’s a coincidence he’s messaging me tonight after being MIA this whole time. He knows I learned the truth, which means people are still working behind the scenes.
This is just
another cruel ploy.
I close my messages and toss my phone to the other end of the bed. The little spot of hope made everything that much bleaker.
I put my face back in my pillow and cry myself to sleep.
CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR
When I wake up, rain lashes the house with winds so loud, it’s like there’s a vacuum cleaner running in my room. It’s a maddening, constant whirring sound that never shuts off.
The same thing is going on in my brain.
Beverly is here, but not as a Category 3 hurricane. It was downgraded to a tropical storm as it moved inland. But it’s no gentle rain. With winds gusting over fifty miles per hour, we still have to stay inside.
Before last night I would’ve liked to spend the day with Cari, Davey, and Dad. In past years, with cable and internet out during storms, we’ve played board games, told ghost stories, and cooked strange meals to pass the time. This year I’m hunkering down in my room alone.
“Jaz?” Cari says from the other side of the door. “Jaz, the bathroom is free if you want to shower.”
I do want to shower. I didn’t even brush my teeth before I fell asleep last night and I’m gross. I need coffee and some food, too, but I don’t want to see or talk to any of them.
I keep replaying last night. How glowing Paul looked when he told me. How guilty my family, friends, and… contestants seemed. How all the neighbors saw. How many people must know me because of the podcast. I’ve never been so embarrassed in my life. And every time I relive it, it poisons me a little more.
My phone chimes every few minutes. I have messages from just about everyone I know. Texts and voice messages from my family and supposed friends fill my inbox, but I don’t answer. Eugene is the only person who hasn’t messaged again.
I don’t bother to respond to anyone because what is there to say? My family had no faith in me. The boys lied to me and used me. After everything we’ve been through from elementary school to high school, June didn’t have the decency to be honest. And although I guess Emily didn’t like the contest, she never told me about it. Everyone was in it for celebrity, or to win, or whatever. My entire fifty-person family went behind my back to orchestrate this whole charade. And the worst offender was Cari. I thought I’d always have my sister in my corner. I was wrong.
I grit my teeth thinking of how she sat in the Rolla listening to me wonder about Eugene on Sunday. She had a chance to tell me about the contest right then as I searched for answers. She didn’t. She was probably just gathering more fodder for her podcast. Like when she did my hair and was asking questions about Aaron.
With nothing else to do, and fired up with anger again, I settle in and listen to her show. Paul explained in his texts last night that he overheard two girls talking about how they loved The Little Bachelorette podcast. They thought the host was the local girl with the teen Bachelor show. He tracked it down and listened to it on Friday.
I put in earbuds although I don’t know why. I’m sure my whole family has already heard this. Cari must’ve been eating up the fame with a spoon—her ambition paying off yet again. I’m sure some of my cousins must be enjoying the limelight too.
My sister’s voice plays in my ears and my hands tighten into fists. But I’m surprised she introduces herself as Anonyma instead of Cari. Still, I’m close to shutting it off in disgust as she eagerly explains the contest when she says:
Ariel, who has the biggest heart in the world, has never known her true worth. Our family tries. So do her friends. We tell her how great she is, but I guess we don’t feel objective. And boy attention is just a different type of validation. We wanted her to see how many options there are out there. So we tried to come up with something to help show her how she should be treated and valued. And that’s why we created The Little Bachelorette contest. We hope hope that through the contest she’ll not only find someone to love but, more importantly, find herself.
I pause the podcast and stop in front of my mirror. This was all done… for me? To help me find myself?
The girl in the mirror’s hair is a bird’s nest, her eyes are puffy from crying last night, and her lips are chapped. Makeup is smudged all over her face, and it’s just wrong.
I shake my head. I couldn’t be further away from finding myself.
But is that true? I look a little harder. Not at my hazardous reflection, but at myself.
I’ve changed since Burrito Friday. I can’t deny that. Even when I went to lunch with Paul, I could feel how different it was to be around him, and the difference wasn’t him—it was me. I was more confident, more sure of myself. And I’d changed in no small part because of Justin Michael, Aaron, and… Eugene.
I wince at the name, but getting to know him changed me. He challenged me and he seemed to believe in me—believe I was stronger than I’ve ever thought. Even if it was all an act, that opened my eyes to a lot of things. When I was with him or Justin or Aaron, I couldn’t avoid seeing how much I’d put up with over the years. How I’d shrunk myself instead of grown, and how I’ve settled for stable in all aspects of my life. How I’ve believed I was not good enough for the things I really want.
But I hate that it was all a lie—an elaborate one from the people who are supposed to love me the most.
If this was all for me, as my sister claimed, why didn’t they tell me? Even if I can accept that they were trying to help, I can’t get over how they didn’t ask me. How they let me believe it was real. What could justify that? If they wanted me to be on a game show, why not tell me?
I pause and think about the timing. If the contest started with my graduation party, they had to have put it together days or weeks beforehand. That would’ve been while I was home, cyberstalking Paul, or when they knew about the Instagram girl but I was in the dark. When they couldn’t figure out how to tell me. When all I wanted was to be with him.
If they’d told me their plan then, would I have agreed to do it?
No.
If I’m honest, I can’t think of a time where I would’ve agreed to participate in a dating game.
I want to be angry. I know I deserve to be angry, but yes, if this was their only idea, I can admit they had to keep me out of the loop. But how was this their only idea? Whatever happened to boundaries?
With more confusion than hostility, I unlock my door and go into the bathroom to shower. I still don’t want to talk to them, but I can’t keep wallowing in here.
CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE
DAVEY’S JAZ WATCH FAMILY GROUP TEXT
JUNE 22
Mom
How is everyone holding up in the storm?
Aunt Kim
We’re good here. Reading some books. Charlotte is painting. How’s Jaz?
Cari
She finally came out to shower
She went right back into her room after. We’re thinking about cooking something for lunch. Maybe she’ll help
Mom
Do not set fire to anything while I’m gone
Aunt Tammy
We’re all good here. Did Jaz say anything? I haven’t gotten a text back yet
Aunt Minnie
None of us has. We’re fine here
Nonna
Keep us posted on our girl. Poppy and I are riding out the storm
Dad
Everything is fine here. We’re on Jaz Watch and going to make some lunch
Mom
I mean it. No fires
CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX
I’m pretty sure my family has set fire to something in the kitchen. I guess burning down the house is one way to get me out of my room.
The distinct smell of smoked oil wafts under my door. Gross. They must’ve also burned toast, which is impressive since… it’s toast. But I don’t take the bait—they can make their own inedible lunch. I stay in my room listening to Cari’s full podcast series. Then I listen to it again from the beginning.
I have to hand it to her: she’s a great podcaster. I never listened to the ones she did for The Bache
lor, but I’m sure they’re just as good. There’s a reason she’s number one. She is, in fact, good at everything.
My sister has a great voice and a way of speaking where you want to keep listening to see what she’ll say next. She has funny asides and a good way of breaking things down. But it’s her interview with Aaron where she really shines. They have instant chemistry and he’s almost as charming as she is. It would all be super entertaining if it wasn’t about my life.
After listening to the four episodes twice, I’m struck by two things:
1. Just how deeply my family meddled in my life.
2. How much work they put in to do it.
But I still have questions, and it’s because of those questions that I finally leave my room. I’m done with accepting things, especially secrets.
I find Cari, my dad, and Davey in the kitchen, waving around dish towels, trying to clear smoke out of the house without opening a window. Our hurricane shutters are down, but the wind can still crack the glass if they unlock any panes. There’s a light haze in the air that makes everything fuzzy around the edges. I’m surprised the smoke detectors haven’t gone off, but then I see they’ve removed the batteries.
I sigh, go into the kitchen, and turn on the overhead vent. I get the can I use for grease out of the freezer, pour the smoked olive oil in, and put it back.
“Thanks, Jazzy,” Dad says.
It’s hard for me to look at any of them. My dad, even my dad, who’s always kind, who’s always loved me, joyfully deceived me.
“I need to talk to you,” I say in Cari’s general direction.
“Oh, um, sure, yeah,” she says.
She walks with me back to my room. My bedroom is a mess of tissues and dirty laundry, but I don’t care. I sit at the desk and leave Cari standing by the door.
The Jasmine Project Page 21