She's the Worst

by Lauren Spieller

  He glances back at her in the rearview mirror. “She’s texting.”

  “Still.”

  He puts his hand back on the wheel. “Suit yourself.”

  My phone rings, and Nate’s name lights up the screen. “Hey,” I answer, “what’s up?”

  “Where are you? It’s super loud.”

  I glance at Eric. I’m not sure why, but I don’t want to tell Nate I called Eric to pick us up instead of him. “In the car with Jenn. Where are you?”

  “I’m at the store.”

  “Oh, right. How’s it going?”

  “Eh, fine. Better than being at home.”

  “Since when?”

  The line goes quiet. I adjust the phone to my other ear and ask, “Are you still there?”

  “Yeah,” Nate says. “My mom is just on my case. It’s no big deal.”

  I glance at Eric, then angle myself away. “Hey,” I say quietly, “are you okay? If you need to talk, I could—”

  “I’m fine,” Nate says immediately. “How’s it going with Jenn?”

  “Not great,” I say, keeping my voice low. “She pushed me into a canal and then got our car towed because she parked illegally near the beach.”

  “Holy crap,” he says. “Are you okay?”

  I look in the rearview mirror at Jenn. She’s pressed as close to the door as possible with her arms crossed. Only Jenn could make a ride in a convertible seem like a chore. “I’m fine,” I say. “Just . . . frustrated.”

  “I don’t blame you,” Nate says.

  Jenn looks up and catches my eye in the mirror. “What?” she asks. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

  “Shit,” Nate says. “A customer just walked in. He probably only wants to use the bathroom, but I should go.”

  “Okay,” I say. “Let me know if you change your mind and want to talk, okay?”

  Nate sighs. “Yeah. I will.”

  We hang up just as Eric is exiting the freeway. “Who was that?” he asks over the radio.

  I reach over to take his hand again. His fingers are warm, and they immediately interlace with mine. “Nate.”

  He shakes his head. “He’s weird. I don’t trust a guy with that many female friends. Like, what are you trying to prove, you know?”

  “He’s not trying to prove anything,” I say. “We’re his friends.”

  “Seems like he’s just riding the friend zone to victory, if you ask me.”

  Jenn leans forward, so her head is between the seats, and turns off the radio. “The friend zone is a ridiculous myth propagated by the patriarchy to make boys feel like women owe them something,” she says. “But women don’t owe anyone anything, least of all sex. Either you’re a friend or you’re not.”

  “No need to be so uptight,” Eric says. “Relax.”

  I look at him sharply. “Don’t tell her to relax.”

  Eric rolls his eyes and pulls his hand away from me. “Whatever.”

  We drive in uncomfortable silence for a few minutes. I cross my arms, and lean my head back against the headrest. I’m not sure what bugs me more, that Eric is being a jerk, or that my sister called him out on it, but I think it actually might be the first one. Just because Eric and I are probably going to start officially dating doesn’t mean he’s allowed to be rude to her.

  The sign for the impound comes into view ahead. “That’s the lot,” I say, pointing.

  “Thank god,” Eric mutters.

  Jenn climbs out as soon as the car stops moving and she goes into the office. I turn in my seat to face Eric. The conversation got tense there for a minute, but I want to smooth things over. If we’re going to date for real, we’ll have to get through an argument now and then. “Thank you for the ride.”

  He looks out the front windshield at my sister. “Are you hanging out with her all day?”

  “I’m not sure,” I admit. “I’m kind of pissed at her right now, but we had this whole plan to spend the day together—”

  He snorts. “Why?”

  I fiddle with my seat belt as I try to decide how to answer him. Part of me wants to say, Why wouldn’t I spend the day with her? She’s my sister. But a little over twenty-four hours ago I was basically asking Nate the same question Eric is asking me now, and it’s not like I’m feeling particularly happy with her at the moment anyway. I also really don’t want to get into another argument with him. It’s one thing when it happens with my sister or Nate—I know they’ll forgive me if I say something stupid or a little too mean. But something about disagreeing with Eric makes me feel nervous, like I might say the wrong thing and ruin everything. So I change the subject instead.

  “What are you doing tonight?” I ask. “Do you want to hang out?”

  He puts the car into reverse. “I would, but I’ve got some things to do at home with my dad.”

  “Oh,” I say, disappointed. “Okay.” I unbuckle my seat belt but don’t get out. “Then . . . I’ll see you tomorrow?”

  “Let’s play it by ear.” He leans toward me and gives me a quick kiss on the cheek. “Bye.”

  I climb out of the car, my heart in my throat, but before I have a chance to ask him if he’s upset with me, he’s already backing out onto the street. When I turn to go inside, I find Jenn standing in the doorway. “You okay?” she asks.

  The truth—that I’m worried he’s mad at me, that I’m worried I might be mad at him, that maybe everything is ruined now—swirls inside me. But I can’t tell Jenn any of that. She won’t understand. Her relationship with Tom is airtight. And besides, she’s already made it pretty clear she doesn’t like Eric. The last thing I want to do is admit maybe . . . just maybe . . . he’s not as great as I thought.

  “I’m fine,” I say, plastering on a fake smile. Besides, it’s not like she really cares.

  CHAPTER 12

  JENN

  I take a seat while we wait for the man behind the counter to prepare our paperwork. April lingers outside for a few minutes, pacing in the sun, then eventually comes in and sits as far from me as possible. Which isn’t very far, considering how small the office is, but I get the message all the same: She doesn’t want to talk to me.

  I get that it sucks to have your sister arguing with your boyfriend. But that’s the thing—Eric isn’t her boyfriend. He’s just a jerk who tricks girls into thinking he likes them and then ditches them as soon as he gets what he wants. And as much as I love my sister, I’m pretty sure she doesn’t have enough experience to recognize a player when she sees one. If she did, she wouldn’t be with someone like Eric. She’d be with someone who cares about people and treats them with respect, like Tom.

  Not that Tom is being a particularly great boyfriend today either. He still hasn’t returned any of my calls or texts, and it’s too late in the day for me to keep kidding myself that he just hasn’t had a chance to look at his phone. But I’m going to give him the benefit of the doubt. Not just because he deserves it, but because he’d do the same for me. He already has, really. I know he’s frustrated with me for not talking to my parents about Stanford yet. That might even be why he’s not answering my calls—because he wants me to talk to them, not him. But he’s still been waiting patiently for me to tell them for months, ever since the acceptance letter came in the mail in the first place.

  Ever since I handed it to them . . . and they told me I couldn’t go.

  I try not to let myself think about it, because it makes me so angry I can barely sit still. But sitting in this dingy room with Grandma’s threat looming over me, I can’t help but remember.

  I was so excited when my admission packet arrived in the mail. The package was warm from sitting in the mailbox all day, first while I was at school, and later while I was working at the store. I didn’t bother grabbing the letter opener out of Mom’s office. Instead, I plopped down on the floor just inside the front door and tore open the envelope. Congratulations! It is with great pleasure that I offer you admission to Stanford University.

  I screamed so loud th
at it set off a car alarm outside. I had done it. After years of hard work, of falling asleep to dreams of Stanford’s beautiful campus and the freedom it would provide me, I had gotten in. I was going to college. And not just any college. My dream school.

  Then my parents came home. We were supposed to be going to Uncle Chris’s birthday party that night—the perfect opportunity to tell my entire family my amazing news. But the moment Mom and Dad walked through the door, their faces flushed and fists clenched, I knew it wasn’t going to happen. Then April came downstairs, probably thinking we were about to leave, and I thought, Maybe this time she can help me. I’ll show her the acceptance letter and she’ll have to help. But then Mom and Dad’s argument started up again, and April immediately pushed past them through the front door and headed to Nate’s house. Leaving me, as usual, to deal with the fallout.

  But for once I didn’t. Getting away from Mom and Dad was the whole point of moving away, and as far as I was concerned, my new life was starting right then and there. So instead of calming them down, I handed Mom my acceptance letter and went to bed. Or I tried to. Turns out it’s hard to fall asleep when words like “divorce” and “I’m leaving” are being shouted one floor below you. It took everything I had to stay in bed and let them figure things out on their own, but I did it. I stayed out of it and eventually fell asleep.

  It wasn’t until the next morning, when I came down to find them standing side by side in the kitchen, that I realized what a huge mistake I’d made.

  We can’t possibly run the store without you, Mom said.

  It’d close within weeks, Dad agreed. There’s no way we could stay afloat.

  I begged them to reconsider. I reminded them of how hard I had worked, of all the hours I’d put in, not only at the store but with my long list of extracurriculars—clubs and volunteer groups and after-school peer tutoring. But it was as useless. For once, they were united. I was staying in LA so that I could continue to work at the store. It was my duty as a member of the family. No amount of arguing would make a difference, and by the time Dad put his hand on my shoulder and said, “What would we do without you?” it was as if the idea to stay in LA and go to community college had been mine all along.

  I glance over at April. She’s sitting with her body angled away from me so I can’t see her face, but I can tell from the hunch of her shoulders that she’s still angry. I want to feel bad—for what I said about Eric, and for lying to her—but I can’t. Everything I’ve done has been for her own good. I’m protecting her from Eric just like I protected her from the truth about Mom and Dad: that they might love us, but at the end of the day, they’ll put themselves first every time.

  And maybe I’m protecting myself a little bit too. Because even as I sit here, remembering my parents’ faces as they told me they couldn’t keep the store open without me, a part of me wonders if that’s really why they needed me to stay. If it was the store they were really worried about . . . or themselves.

  CHAPTER 13

  APRIL

  Parking under Jim Morrison turns out to be a two-hundred-dollar mistake. I use a payment app to send Jenn my half, even though I told her that wasn’t a stupid parking spot, then we follow the impound employee out to the car. He points at the Prius, grunts, then leaves.

  “So . . . home?” Jenn asks when we’re alone.

  I look down at myself. My jeans are almost dry, but I can smell the stale canal water on me. I can’t believe I let Eric see me like this. Sweat after soccer is one thing, but there’s nothing remotely sexy about smelly canal water. “Yeah. If I don’t get out of these clothes I’m going to puke.”

  We get into the car, and I immediately turn up the radio so I don’t have to talk to my sister. But as we pull out of the driveway and turn toward home, I remember that I’m supposed to convince her to stay in LA, and that’s not going to happen if we aren’t speaking.

  “Jenn, I want to talk to you about something,” I say as I turn off the radio.

  “Yeah?”

  “It’s about you leaving.” I stare out the window, not letting myself look at her. If I do, I might lose my nerve. “I’ve been thinking about it all morning, and I’m worried about what it’ll be like when you’re gone.”

  There’s silence for a moment, then Jenn says, “I am too.”

  “Really?”

  She nods. “I meant to tell you this earlier, but then the car got towed, and we had to get a ride, and I guess I got distracted.” She takes a deep breath and tightens her hands on the steering wheel. “I’m sorry about what I said in the boat. I’m just concerned, you know? About what’s going to happen to you if I’m not here to help.”

  I sit back in my seat, my whole body suddenly weak with relief. I knew Jenn would come around. She’s always been the one to hold our family together. A person doesn’t just stop doing that overnight. And everything she said about me quitting soccer to take over her shifts—no one is that selfish.

  “I don’t want to do this without you,” I say. “It would just be a lot to handle on my own, you know?”

  “I know.”

  “Things are going to change,” I continue. “They have to. But I don’t want to give this up. I know you don’t think it’s important, but it’s important to me.”

  We stop at a red light, and Jenn turns in her seat to face me. “I know it’s important,” she says. “And I don’t blame you for wanting to make it work. But, April . . . I don’t think it’s going to.”

  I frown. “Wait, but I thought—I thought you just said you aren’t going to make me do this alone?”

  “It’s not about me making you do anything,” Jenn says. “Some people just . . . they’re not good, you know?”

  “But I am good,” I insist. I take a deep breath. I didn’t want to tell her this, but it looks like I’m going to have to. “Listen, don’t tell anyone, but there’s a USC rep coming to watch me play at our first game. And if they like what they see—”

  “Hold on,” Jenn says. “USC? What are you talking about?”

  “Soccer,” I say. “There’s a representative from USC—probably one of the assistant coaches—coming to watch me play, and if they like what they see, they’ll consider giving me a scholarship.” I frown. “What are you talking about?”

  “You and Eric,” she says. “I’m saying it’s not going to work out between you.”

  I stare at her, stunned.

  “I’m not trying to be mean,” Jenn says. “What I said in the boat about him being with a lot of girls . . . I’m sorry, but that’s true. And, look, it doesn’t make him a bad person necessarily, but I still worry you’re going to get hurt. That’s why you should consider ending this now, before I move.” She reaches for my hand. “I don’t want to worry about you and how it’s going when I’m gone, you know?”

  The light turns green, and Jenn takes her hand away and turns her attention back to the road. I turn away too, just as tears begin rolling down my cheeks. I finally tell her about USC—the one thing I thought would force her to really listen to me—and just as I feared, she didn’t care at all. And if that wasn’t bad enough, she’s pushing me to end things with Eric so she can go off to college worry-free. Because who cares if I break things off with a guy I like? The real tragedy would be Jenn having to take a minute out of her day to wonder if I’m okay once she goes to college.

  I wipe my eyes. I was stupid for thinking Jenn was going to take pity on me and stay around LA to help. If she cared about me and my future, she never would have lied in the first place. But this doesn’t mean I’m going to give up on getting her to postpone Stanford. Hell, no. If anything, I’m even more determined. That’s what makes me so good on the field, and it’s what’s going to help me power through this disappointment and get back on track. I’m just going to have to take a different approach, because the last ten minutes have made it clear that a straightforward attack isn’t going to work.

  I’m going to have to do this like Jenn would.

  I�
�m going to have to lie.

  Ten minutes later, Jenn pulls up to the curb across the street from our duplex. I take off my seat belt. “Be right back.”

  “Wait, we’re not finished?” she asks, her hand halfway to her own seat belt. “I thought you said you wanted to go home.”

  “Yeah, to change,” I say, careful to keep my voice light. If Jenn is going to treat me like an inconvenience, then I don’t have to feel even a little bit bad about manipulating her. “Give me five minutes.”

  I climb out of the car and go inside. The house is dark and, for once, blissfully silent. I head upstairs, pulling my dirty clothes off as I go. One sniff of my bare arm tells me I can’t just change; I need to shower. I glance out the window at the top of the stairs and see Jenn slumped down in her seat, texting. I said five minutes, but ten won’t kill her. I’ve waited three times longer than that for her to get out of the bathroom in the morning.

  I’ve just turned off the water and stepped out of the shower when a door slams somewhere in the house. I guess Jenn got tired of waiting in the car. I wrap the towel around myself and reach for the bathroom door, when I hear my Mom’s voice coming from down the hall.

  “I can’t tell him that, Harriet! He’ll just get upset.”

  Crap. It’s never a good sign when Mom talks to her sister. Harriet lives in Spain, so it’s hard to schedule calls with the time difference, plus they don’t get along well in the first place, so when they’re on the phone it means something is wrong.

  “I’m just so tired of having to defend myself,” Mom says. Her voice sounds strained, like she’s trying not to cry. “He’s always on edge, and I know I am too, but sometimes I just wish . . .” She trails off, and my heart clenches in my chest. I don’t want to know what Mom wishes, but I can guess . . . and it scares the shit out of me.

  “I don’t know what we’d do without Jenn,” Mom says. “Let’s put it that way.”

  My sympathy hardens into something ugly and angry. If she knew what Jenn has been keeping from her and Dad for the last few months, I doubt Mom would be talking about her like that—like she’s some kind of savior and saint rolled into one.