And that was precisely what I did on my drive home. I figured out the words, but it wasn’t what I wanted to say.
It was what I needed to write.
Chapter Fourteen
Julia
Life went back to being depressingly normal that next week. I should have been relieved, I guess. I mean, things had been depressingly abnormal before I’d left so the fact that I was once more welcome at my former lunch table should have been a relief.
It wasn’t.
I found myself glancing over at Matt’s table every few seconds even though I’d told myself to stop it already. Hadn’t he told me outright that he didn’t want us to be a couple? Hadn’t he made it perfectly clear that despite everything we might have been through this past weekend, he still saw me as that flakey, shallow, idiotic cheerleader?
“Right, Julia?” Taylor said.
I turned back to see her and the others staring at me. It took me a half a second too long to brighten my expression to one of eager anticipation. “Sorry, what was that?”
As Taylor repeated her dilemma—it was something having to do with what outfit she was going to wear that weekend—I caught Cara watching me warily. She’d been like this all week. I kept stealing glances at Matt and she kept sneaking peeks at me.
I flashed her a stupid, vacant smile. She sneered. Fair enough, I wasn’t really looking to make peace anyway. It wasn’t my fault that her friends turned on her—she’d been the one to push them away. By all accounts she’d been a raging, power-tripping witch last weekend, making unrealistic demands and mocking her posse incessantly.
Now I was back and the girls were fawning over me, asking for my advice on clothes, laughing at my every quip.
Cara hated it.
Truth be told, I hated it too. My group of “friends”—and I used that word very loosely—was all too eager to pretend that the last week had never happened. All week not a single one of them had asked me about my love of comics or mentioned the fact that I’d been gone all weekend. They made it entirely too easy to slip back into the role I’d been cast out of. So easy that I hadn’t even fought it.
And why should I? I cast another look in Matt’s direction and saw him laughing at something Suzie had said. I mean, if I didn’t rejoin my group of friends, where would I go? It wasn’t like I’d be welcome over there anymore.
Jason looked over in my direction and I glanced away before I could get caught. I’d thought I was welcome there. For a little while I’d started to think they were my real friends—not just Jason and Luke, but all of them. Margo, Suzie…Matt.
And now? Well, now I didn’t know who my real friends were. Matt had made it clear that he still didn’t think highly of me, no matter how much he’d learned about me. And he’d learned a lot. More than anyone else—maybe even more than Thea.
I’d let him in and he’d rejected me.
I refused to look over anymore. I’d get caught and it was too humiliating to think about. It was one thing to be dumped, but quite another to be pitied for it. I kept my chin high as I shoved a carrot stick in my mouth.
“What are you looking at?” Cara’s harsh voice interrupted one of Taylor’s dramatic stories about her new crush.
We all stopped eating and talking to look at Cara. Her eyes were narrowed and focused on me. She reminded me of a cat—a nasty, vindictive, unpleasant cat that would scratch your eyes out if you dared to pet it.
“Excuse me?” I said politely. Nothing annoyed Cara more than when I was polite in the face of her rudeness.
“What are you staring at?” She repeated it slowly, like she was talking to a slow-witted moron.
I drew in a deep breath and let it out just as slowly.
“You’re staring over at Jason’s table like a freak,” she pointed out oh so helpfully. Her eyes were wide with fake innocence, but her gaze held a flicker of cruelty that made me want to slap her.
But I didn’t. I just kept smiling, because that was what I did best. Once again I thought of that comic strip I’d imagined. The one where a pretty blonde cheerleader wore a Joker-like mask of a grin.
Cara’s expression turned sickeningly sweet as she gave a fake pout. “Are you still heartbroken because Jason picked that loser over you?”
“Margo is not a loser,” I snapped.
I heard the intake of air, the thinly veiled gasps and the smothered giggles that followed.
Score one for Cara.
I glanced around me at the faces of these girls who’d turned on me and then welcomed me back. Their eyes were alight with eagerness. No…bloodlust. Was that melodramatic? Possibly. But it was true. They couldn’t wait to see a showdown between the school’s star mean girl and its favorite sweetheart. We’d each been cast in our roles long ago and I for one was sick of it.
Like a microphone being dropped or a veil being lifted, something in me seemed to come to a decision. I felt it click inside of me—a new clarity
I might not know who my real friends were these days…but I knew who they were not.
These girls? They weren’t my friends. Real friends wouldn’t have laughed at me at my lowest point, they wouldn’t have given in to mob rule and let me dangle in the wind like that.
I looked over at Matt and his friends one more time. Matt might not like me, but that didn’t change the fact that his friends were my friends. Maybe not best friends and maybe not for life, but when I’d needed someone they’d been there for me.
All of them.
Even Matt.
Had they pitied me? Perhaps. Did Matt still judge me? Definitely. But maybe they were right to pity, and maybe he wasn’t so wrong in his judgments. After all, I’d proven him right, hadn’t I? Coming back here and resuming my role of perfect cheerleader even after everything they’d done. I’d gone and done exactly what he’d expected of me.
I felt a wave of nausea that had nothing to do with the carrot sticks. I was disgusted, repulsed by how deeply I’d lost myself in this game I’d learned to play. I’d gotten so good at hiding in this role, I didn’t know how to find myself anymore.
“Helloooo,” Cara sang, waving a hand in front of my face and clearly reveling in the snickers of her friends. “Who are you staring at?”
I hadn’t even realized that my gaze had wandered back to Matt. I was still hurt by him, still angry. But right now I was oddly grateful. He’d called me out for the liar that I was and that had helped me to see how tired I was of lying.
Was it really so bad to be mocked? I’d survived it before, I could do it again. And was it really so awful to be pitied? Again, been there done that. My mother and my father might have believed that to be pitied was a crime and to show what you were really thinking a weakness, but I wasn’t them.
I didn’t want to be.
Was life easier if you lived it with a smile and played the role everyone wanted you to play?
Definitely.
But since when did easy equal better? Maybe life wasn’t supposed to be easy. I looked over at Matt and his friends who were laughing it up in their own little world. They’d all been bullied—Margo, Suzie…definitely Matt. But look at what they had. They had each other. And what did I have to show after years of being admired and adored?
Admiration didn’t come close to having true friendships, and adoration…well that was just another word for flimsy and fickle.
I stood up abruptly and stared down at the girls I’d called friends since middle school. I barely knew them, not really. And they sure as heck didn’t know me. So why was I catering to them? What was I doing here pretending that I cared about clothes, or school spirit, or partying with boys who knew me even less than this crowd?
Cara sneered but she was still feigning pity. “Still have a thing for Prince Charming, huh? So sad.” She tsked and that made the girls giggle. I could all but see Cara’s triumph.
This is what it came down to for her, this was what it was always about—who held the power. Maybe that’s what my mom’s angle had alway
s been, too, she just used different terms for it.
She didn’t want pity because it made her look weak. She didn’t want anyone to see her vulnerable so she could never get hurt.
And it worked…until it didn’t.
Being seen as perfect hadn’t kept me from being hurt—not by my so-called friends and not by Matt.
Matt’s rejection had hurt so much more than being ousted by my friends but only because he knew me. And really…
I had a moment of clarity so startling that it made me start.
I’d take the pain of his rejection any day if it meant having the experiences I’d had this weekend. In all my life I’d never felt so much as I did with Matt—talking with him, laughing with him, kissing him. Even fighting with him.
Because each and every one of those moments had been real. Unscripted. They’d been genuine, and even this pain I felt in my chest… Even that was more real than any embarrassment or hurt pride I’d felt at the hands of these girls.
It took me a moment to wrap my head around this revelation, and the girls were still staring up at me in eager expectation, waiting for my response.
I didn’t fake a smile. I didn’t pretend Cara’s words meant nothing to me. I met her gaze head-on and for quite possibly the first time since she and I had met, I was totally honest with her.
“I wasn’t looking at Jason. I was watching Matt.”
She blinked and the girls around us looked to one another in surprise. “Matt Cartwright?” Taylor asked in confusion.
I nodded. “I was kind of dating him for a little while but he broke up with me.”
Their silence could only be categorized as dumbfounded.
“You…what?” Cara’s voice rose on a screech. I could tell by her bewildered look that she didn’t know whether I was kidding. She didn’t want to guess wrong so she just sat there. They all just sat there, a couple of them shooting Cara questioning looks as if to gauge their own reactions based on hers.
But the funny part—the absolute best part—was that I didn’t care what they thought or how they reacted. Saying something honest like that… It was freeing.
I was free.
I shrugged and picked up my bag. “Yeah, well. If you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to find somewhere else to eat.” Then I grabbed my tray and headed for the door. It wasn’t until I’d dumped my food and reached the quiet of the library that I realized I had nowhere to go.
The most popular girl in school, and I found myself with no friends. Again.
The thought wasn’t as sad as one might think. I might have felt a pang of loneliness, but overall I felt good.
I felt better than good. I felt great.
Freedom was a heady drug and I only allowed myself the briefest moment to wallow in sadness, not only for me and my lack of friends but for my mom. For both my parents. Living for an image is no way to live.
It may have taken me a while to get that fact, but at least I learned something valuable at school. You know, aside from academics. I looked around the empty hallway, debating whether to head to my next class early or hide away in the library.
Screw it. I was done hiding. I was done running and I was done pretending.
Today was the dawn of a new day in the life of Julia Farrow. That comic strip popped up in my head, making me smile. This image would be one of triumph. Maybe the cheerleader is standing on top of an Olympics podium or something.
I headed toward my next class, bracing myself for the first people who trickled in after lunch and the whispers that would follow.
I sat there alone in silence and tapped my pen on the desk.
Yup. Totally alone. I was officially one hundred percent friend-free.
Apparently Thea was psychic because she chose that moment to text, as if to remind me that I did have a friend. Just not one in this particular school…or town…or state. I smiled at the sight of her name, but when I opened the message and saw the photo, my smile froze as my heart plummeted.
She’d sent me a photo of me and Matt. It was from the costume contest that first night and we were both grinning like a couple of idiots. His eyes were crinkled up in that way I loved and his arm was wrapped around my shoulders. It looked like we were in the middle of laughing about something.
It looked like we were happy.
Thea’s text was short but sweet and filled with emojis. Don’t think I’ve ever seen you happier. Hope you bring your friend to the next comic-con.
Doubtful. Highly doubtful. I’d been so sure we were on the same page, but apparently I was wrong.
Her next text came in while I was still staring at the photo. That boy can write, too. Tell him I’m impressed. This was followed by about ten emojis of smiley faces with heart eyes and a link.
I clicked on it. The link was for my town’s local paper. It was the article that Matt had written. According to the date it had been posted today but I hadn’t even known.
My hands felt shaky and a shiver raced through me as I skimmed over it, noting with amazement how many comments were listed at the bottom. I made myself start from the beginning and read every word. The headline read: Once Upon a Comic-Con.
I felt my lips hitch up at that. My smile grew hesitantly as I started to read. He’d written it as a sort of mock fairytale that was at once descriptive of the atmosphere but told in a way that made it seem over-the-top and funny. His style was unique and absurd, but it totally worked. It captured the energy of the crowds, the uniqueness of the setting, and the unconditional love of the fandoms.
My breath caught in my throat at the second paragraph. “…and in this wondrous, whimsical land, there was a girl.”
I swallowed and stared at that line, oddly afraid to go on. But I did. By the time I reached the end there were tears in my eyes. I went back and reread and this time I didn’t even try to check the tears that slid down my cheeks as I read the story of a girl who found freedom at this magical land of comic-con. She went through her days hiding herself away, but when she went there, she was free. The narrator described how the girl blossomed and grew into this fantastical goddess, larger than life and perfect for her imperfections.
In this beloved land of comics, she’s allowed to be herself and is loved for it. I loved her for it. For it was only when she was free that she was mine…
I sniffled as the words hit me square in the chest for the second time, still just as poignant and heartfelt as the first time. In the next two paragraphs he went back to the topic of the comic-con at large and it was clear to the average reader that he was using this mythical “girl” as a metaphor for a lot of the people who went there. He ended up quoting Les Corning, the comic book writer I’d turned him onto, using his quotes on masks to describe the way most people went about their daily lives with the weight of expectations and playing the role that others wanted to see—some to more of an extent than others—and how it was such a magical thing to find a place like comic-con where people were free to drop those masks, if just for a little while.
He did a beautiful job of not only describing the comics convention but also of explaining to those who’d never been to one just how special the experience could be. I would have been impressed with his article no matter what, but it was the part about this anonymous girl that had me rereading it multiple times, oblivious to the other students who were filing into the classroom.
There was no doubt it was about me. He was talking to me directly and I knew exactly what he was trying to say. He didn’t not like me—it was exactly the opposite. He liked me…a lot. But he was afraid once we were back at Grover High that he’d lose me.
I swallowed a thick lump as I stared at my phone’s screen without seeing it. He’d been right, I supposed. From his point of view it must have seemed like I’d fallen back into the role of chipper cheerleader and forgiven the crowd who’d turned on me without so much as a glare of anger.
I’d given in to the impulse to play the role I’d perfected because I hadn’t known what else to do.
>
But not anymore.
Telling the truth to Cara and the others was just the start. I lifted my head and noticed that some of the girls around me were casting curious looks in my direction while whispering.
I didn’t care. And I wasn’t just saying that. Once upon a time, it would have bothered me. A lot. But right now?
Nope.
What did I care what these people thought of me? They’d be out of my life in a matter of months and when I started fresh at college next year, I meant to make friends who liked me. The real me.
I didn’t want to end up like my parents—my mom who lived a life of fake smiles and no real connections, or even my dad who kept everything he felt shoved inside in some misguided notion that he couldn’t help others if they thought that he had problems of his own.
But everyone has problems. Everyone has issues and interests and a whole world going on inside of them. I didn’t have to hide that, not from Matt and not from the world.
Was this all sounding like a life lesson I should have learned from reruns of Full House or Little House on the Prairie? Yeah. Probably. But it took falling for Matt for me to actually get it.
The teacher came in just then and made an announcement that we’d be using this period to study on our own for the test next week. This, of course, led to the students around me bursting into conversation under the guise of “studying” together. For me, this meant that I had the entire class to figure out how I was going to respond.
The guy had just publicly declared his like for me. He’d written what he hadn’t been able to say, and I got that. I got him.
Even when my chest was aching and I’d run from him at the hotel, I knew that he’d had more to say—and that I hadn’t given him a chance. But I’d been too scared to hear it. Probably because I was afraid he’d be right.
I glanced at the article as I nibbled on my lower lip, deep in thought. He had been right. But not about everything. I wasn’t some little girl lost who needed to be found. I was right here. I always had been. And I wasn’t going anywhere.
Once Upon a Comic-Con: Geeks Gone Wild #3 Page 13