She's the Worst

by Lauren Spieller

  “Totally,” I say, forcing myself to smile. “I mean, this is your life, right? You should do whatever you want. Who cares what other people think or feel?”

  She narrows her eyes, but I keep going. I’m done playing nice. If Jenn is this selfish, then she deserves it. “It’s gotta be hard to walk away from your entire life, though,” I say. “All your friends.”

  She looks unsure. “A little, I guess.”

  “Shruthi and Katie are staying here, right?” I ask.

  “Yep. UCLA.”

  “They’re going to college together too?” This is it. This is how I get her to stay. “Aren’t you worried they might . . . I don’t know, forget about you?”

  Jenn frowns. “Why would they forget about me? It’s not like I’m never coming back. And we can still talk on the phone.”

  “Sure, but that’s not the same thing.”

  She crosses her arms, and I realize she wants to walk away. I don’t blame her. But if that’s how she’s feeling, then that means this is working. She’s rethinking her plans.

  “It’s also kind of strange,” I press, “that they didn’t want to hang out with you today. I mean, you’re leaving—”

  “Oh, speaking of that,” Jenn says, “they actually asked me if I wanted to have a late lunch as a kind of farewell, so after we’re done here I’m going to meet them.”

  “Wait, you’re ditching me?”

  “Oh, you can totally come,” she says, in that special tone reserved for telling someone they are welcome when they’re anything but. “I’m sure they wouldn’t mind.”

  “But I thought we were having lunch together.”

  “Is it really that big of a deal? We’ve been together all day.”

  I turn away from her, as much to hide my own face as to avoid looking at hers. A stupid goodbye lunch with Jenn’s friends is not part of the plan. But that’s not all that bothers me. She knew I came up with activities for us to do all day, and I stayed out with her even after she knocked me into the freaking canal and got our car towed. And yet she still agreed behind my back to ditch me for her friends. I know my sister and I aren’t close, but that doesn’t mean she should treat me like an afterthought.

  Whatever. It’s going to take more than a passive-aggressive lunch date to make me give up on convincing Jenn to stay in LA.

  “I’ll go,” I say, “but I want to invite Nate.”

  “Fine. Tell him we’re meeting at In-N-Out on Washington in”—she checks the time—“twenty minutes.”

  “Fine,” I say back, even though I know it makes me sound like a brat. “I will.”

  Jenn pulls her cell phone out of her purse, unaware of the war I’m raging against her. “I’m going to call Tom while you do that. Meet you back at the car?”

  She walks away, leaving me gazing over the city alone. When I woke up this morning, everything made sense. Jenn was going to college in LA and working at the store, Eric and I were doing great, and I was working toward a scholarship. Now Eric is mad at me, I might have to drop out of soccer, and all I’ve succeeded in doing is driving Jenn even further away from me than she was when the day started.

  At least she seemed truly upset about the idea of her friends moving on without her once she goes to Stanford. Maybe seeing them at lunch will change her mind about moving away. Nothing I say will make Jenn stay—she’s made it clear that I don’t matter. But maybe she’ll stay for her friends. I’ve done everything else I can think of to convince her, so I might as well try this, too.

  I have to believe there’s still a way to fix this. I don’t have a choice.

  CHAPTER 16

  JENN

  The parking lot at In-N-Out smells amazing, like cheeseburgers and fries and the end of summer. It reminds me of all the times I’ve come here, first with my parents when I was too little to eat an entire hamburger on my own, then later with April, when we’d save up money and walk over on the weekends. Then a few years later, my friends and I would swing by after school, so Katie could have something to eat before her evening dance classes across town. I’m hit with a pang of homesickness, so sudden and thorough that it stops me in my tracks even though it doesn’t make any sense—I haven’t even left home yet, and it’s not like they don’t have In-N-Out in Northern California. But it sends me reeling just the same.

  “You okay?” April asks.

  “I’m fine,” I say, waving her off. “Just tired.”

  “Hi!” Shruthi says when we step inside. She throws her arms around me, and I’m enveloped by the gentle scent of her peony perfume. It simultaneously makes me feel better and much, much worse.

  “I cannot believe this is the last time we’re going to see you,” Shruthi says into my hair. “I’m going to miss you so much.”

  “It’s the last time we’re going to see her until Thanksgiving,” Katie corrects from a few feet away. “Don’t be dramatic.” But as soon as Shruthi steps back, Katie tosses her long blond ponytail over her shoulder and hugs me too.

  “Hi, April,” Shruthi says after the hugs are over. “How are you?”

  “I’m fine,” April says, not making eye contact with her. “Have you seen Nate?”

  “Nope,” Shruthi says, her voice kind despite how rude April is being. “Do you want to wait for him, or should we get in line?”

  “Let’s order,” April says. “I know what he likes anyway.”

  Five minutes later, we grab our drinks and Katie leads us toward a booth in the corner. We take our seats—Katie and Shruthi on one side, April and I on the other.

  “It’s really nice of you to organize an entire day for your sister,” Shruthi says when we’re settled. “My sister would never do that. She’s a total brat.”

  “Your sister’s only six!” Katie says.

  “Doesn’t mean she isn’t a brat.”

  “Why did you do it?” Katie asks April. “Was it a going-away present?”

  We all look at April, and for the second time today, I’m nervous about what she’s going to say. Will she remind them she couldn’t give me a going-away present because she hadn’t known I was going away in the first place? That she never would have organized today if she had? I doubt Katie and Shruthi would blame her. In fact, they’d probably be pissed at me, since I might have led them to believe I’d come clean weeks ago, just to keep them off my back.

  But April doesn’t say any of these things. Instead, she slides out of the booth. “I’ll be right back. I’m gonna call Nate and find out if he’s coming.”

  When she’s gone, Shruthi turns to me. “Are you ready for tomorrow?”

  “I think so,” I say. “Tom’s picking me up at seven. The flight’s only an hour, so we should be on campus before lunch.”

  “Where is Tom, anyway?” Katie asks. “Did you ever get him on the phone?”

  I pull the wrapper off my straw and wind it around my finger. “No.”

  “Hmm,” Shruthi says, and looks at Katie. “She’s got that face.”

  “What face?” I say. “I don’t have a face.”

  Katie snorts. “She’s totally got that face.”

  “What face?”

  “Whenever you’re hiding how you feel about something, you get this look,” Shruthi explains. “Your lips get kinda thin, and this crease shows up between your eyes—”

  I drop my straw wrapper and touch my forehead. “Oh my god.”

  Katie picks up the fallen wrapper and throws it at me. “Dude, you’re too young for wrinkles. But she’s right. You’re totally freaking out.”

  I pick up my straw wrapper again. “I still haven’t heard from him. It’s starting to make me nervous.”

  “He’s probably just busy with his family,” Shruthi says. “It’s his last day with them.”

  “Or his phone is dead,” Katie says. “Tessa’s phone is always dying.”

  Shruthi and I glance at each other, but don’t say anything. Katie has been dating Tessa on and off for years, but we’re both hoping Tessa going to Univers
ity of Michigan will flip the switch to off permanently.

  “I really don’t think you need to worry about Tom,” Shruthi says. “But you should go to his house after lunch. Talk face-to-face.”

  “Maybe,” I say. “We’re going to a sushi place in the Marina that we like, so I guess I can just ask him then.”

  “Wait, you’re having dinner with him instead of your family?” Shruthi says. “My grandma would kill me.”

  “My parents would too,” Katie says.

  I crumple my straw wrapper into a ball and don’t answer. Mom and Dad are the last people I want to spend my last night with.

  Shruthi’s phone buzzes. “Katie, look!” she exclaims. “That blue rug is back in stock at West Elm! I just got the notification.”

  They bend over Shruthi’s phone, and Katie fist pumps. “It’s even on sale! We’re going to have the cutest dorm room ever.”

  “Wait—you’re living together?” I ask. “I didn’t know that.”

  Katie looks up from Shruthi’s phone. “We told you months ago.”

  “No, you didn’t.”

  “Really? I could have sworn we told you in the group chat.” She looks at Shruthi. “Didn’t we?”

  “Maybe we just talked about it in our private text.”

  I frown. “Since when do you have one of those?”

  “I think we started it when we both got into UCLA. We didn’t want to bother you with all the details.”

  “It wouldn’t have bothered me.”

  Katie snorts. “Dude, everything about college bothered you. For months.”

  “It’s true,” Shruthi says gently. “We tried talking to you about it a million times, but you got all distant every time it came up.” She looks at Katie. “We’ve been worried about you.”

  “Then why didn’t you say something?” I know I sound angry, but I can’t help it. “That’s what friends are supposed to do. They’re supposed to be honest with each other.”

  Katie scoffs. “Give me a break. You are the last person who should be lecturing us about honesty. You didn’t tell your own parents you were going to college.”

  “That’s different—”

  “Stop,” Shruthi says, holding up a hand. “This is our last lunch together. We are not going to spend it arguing.”

  Katie and I continue staring at each other, but when an embarrassed flush starts to creep over my cheeks, I look away. Shruthi is right. We shouldn’t be arguing, not when we have so little time left together. I can’t help but be pissed, though. Not just at Katie, but at both of them.

  “Jenn, I think your food is ready,” Shruthi says, nodding toward the counter. “They just called your number.”

  “Oh. Thanks.” I hop up, and head for the counter. Three trays—mine, April’s, and Nate’s—are sitting side by side. I grab them and head back to the table. Katie and Shruthi are leaning toward each other, Katie’s blond hair against Shruthi’s brown, and they’re whispering. My insides immediately freeze up.

  “I’m going to take this out to April,” I announce. “Be right back.”

  I turn on my heel and head outside, April’s question running through my head. Could they really be moving on without me?

  CHAPTER 17

  APRIL

  I find Nate outside, seated at a picnic table under a big umbrella. I’m about to join him, when I realize he’s on the phone.

  “I know, Mom,” he says in a tone that suggests he’s said these same words at least twice already. “I have to go, okay? April’s waiting for me inside.” He’s silent for a second, then nods. “Okay. I’ll tell her. Yes, I promise. Okay. Bye.”

  “Tell me what?” I say, sitting down next to him.

  He shoves his phone into his pocket. “She wants you to come over for dinner next week. She’s making Galbi-jjim.”

  “My favorite,” I say. “Tell her to name the night, and I’m there.”

  “She always makes a ton, so chances are you could come on any given night and that’s what we’ll be having.”

  The door to the patio opens, and Jenn steps outside, three plastic In-N-Out trays in her hands. “Oh,” she says. “You’re here.”

  “Am I not supposed to be?” Nate asks.

  “No, no, I just meant—never mind.”

  Jenn places two trays on the table in front of us, the burgers bumping against one another before falling over.

  Nate and I glance at each other. “Are you angry at me or something?” I ask.

  “No, I just wanted to talk.”

  “Okay . . .” I start to stand, but Jenn shakes her head.

  “It’s fine. You guys can stay here.”

  “But we’re supposed to be having lunch together,” I say. “We were just about to come inside.”

  “I know,” she says, looking back over her shoulder toward the door, “but maybe I should . . .”

  My heart gives an unexpected squeeze in my chest. I’m not used to seeing Jenn like this, and I have a feeling it has to do with what I said back at the Stairs. I should be pleased, since making her regret her decision to leave is exactly what I set out to do, but instead I feel like a total asshole.

  “It’s okay if you want to have lunch with your friends,” I say. “We can hang out after.”

  “Are you sure?” She looks hesitant, almost like she doesn’t want me to say yes. It makes me feel even worse.

  “If you want to,” I say. “Or you can stay here. It’s up to you.”

  She bites her lip. “No, I should go in. I’ll see you later.”

  She heads inside, and I watch her cross the room to where her friends are waiting for her with their food.

  “What the hell is going on?” Nate asks. “Why is she being so weird?”

  I pick up a french fry, then put it back down again. “I may have said something that’s making her a little . . . paranoid.”

  “Like what?”

  I look down at my hands. “I told her if she leaves, her friends are going to forget about her.”

  “What?” Nate says. “Why would you say that?”

  “Because I don’t want her to leave! If she does, our parents are going to implode, and I’ll have to work at the store after school, which means goodbye, soccer, and . . . she just has to stay. She has to.”

  We sit there silently, neither of us eating. Then Nate puts his arm around me. “The bad news is that it’s very unlikely that you will be successful in convincing her to stay.”

  I groan. “What’s the good news?”

  He hands me my double-double. “You’re at In-N-Out.”

  I laugh weakly and take a bite. The burgercheesebunsauce combination practically melts in my mouth, and I have to admit—it makes me feel a tiny bit better.

  “Who doesn’t tell their family about going away to college?” Nate asks suddenly. “I’ve been thinking about it all day, and I just don’t get it.”

  “I asked her the same thing this morning, and she basically told me to mind my own business.”

  Nate shakes his head. “I don’t know, dude. I’ve worked with Jenn at the store for almost a year, and this isn’t like her. I wonder if something else happened.”

  The idea that Nate could have some kind of insight into my sister that I don’t sends a jolt of jealousy through me I wasn’t expecting. “What could have happened that would make her lie to us?”

  He takes a bite of his burger, chews slowly, and swallows. “Maybe something with your parents.”

  I put my burger down. “Like what?”

  “Dunno, but they’re pretty rough on her.”

  “Oh, come on, she’s the golden child.”

  His face hardens. “That’s not always the easiest thing to be.”

  I watch him for a second, waiting for him to say more, but instead he crumples up a napkin and says, “Anyway—”

  “No ‘anyway,’ ” I say. “We’re clearly not talking about Jenn anymore, and something has been going on with you since this morning. I want to know what it is.”
>
  He grimaces. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “BS, Nate. First you’re on edge in the kitchen—and don’t tell me it was just about Eric—and then you say something is up with your family. Then you tell me your mom is on your case, and now you say it’s hard being the golden child.”

  He shifts uncomfortably. “I really don’t want to talk about this right now, okay? I promise I will eventually, but this is the first time all day my mom hasn’t been texting or calling me, and I just want to eat this burger in peace.”

  “Fine,” I say. “But this isn’t over. We’re going to talk about this, even if I have to sit on your back like I used to do when we were kids.”

  “Please don’t,” he says. “I used to inhale so much sand that my mom thought I was developing a respiratory infection.”

  “I’ll do whatever it takes to make you talk,” I say in my best gangster voice. Nate rolls his eyes. “Now, what were we talking about again?”

  “College,” he says.

  “Oh, right. So what about you? Do you think you’ll go away for school?”

  “Mom wants me to stay local—”

  “But what do you want?”

  “I want to go wherever you go,” he says immediately.

  My face floods with heat, and for a second I don’t know what to do. We’re best friends, so him wanting to go to college together shouldn’t surprise me. But the way he said that just now, and the way he’s looking at me . . . it doesn’t feel like he’s talking about going as friends.

  Nate clears his throat. “What about you? Still planning on becoming the next Alyssa Naeher?”

  I look at him in surprise. “How do you know who Alyssa Naeher is?”

  “I may have started watching women’s soccer over the summer.”

  “What! Why?”

  “I guess I got tired of listening to you talk about it all the time but never understanding what the hell you were saying. Plus . . .” He scrunches up his face. “Never mind, it’s stupid.”

  “You know you’re not allowed to ‘never mind’ me,” I scold. “Come on, tell me.”

  He fiddles with his burger wrapper. “You and Eric.”