“You look cute,” Ana says.
I smile. “You both look cute, too!”
Carmen pretends to do a model walk in her skates and we laugh. “I always look cute.”
“Accurate,” I say, taking in Carmen’s outfit, one I’d immediately save if I saw it on Insta: a tight vintage tee with an oversized, open button-up on top, paired with some cuffed jeans. Her dark, thick hair is pulled back in a ponytail, and her blunt bangs accent the dramatic eyeliner she always wears. Ana, meanwhile, has her long, wavy black hair parted down the middle, and she’s wearing the hell out of a crop top over some high-waisted jeans. “Now, I have to warn you, I’m a little rusty on these. I haven’t been here since we were kids.”
“Oh my God! Really?!” Ana asks.
“Really!”
“Okay, we’ll go slow,” Carmen says, linking her arm through mine as we start to skate toward the darkened rink, where the music is playing.
“And we won’t laugh if you fall,” Ana adds.
Carmen throws her head back and lets out a dramatic cackle. “Speak for yourself.”
It takes me some time to feel comfortable on skates again, but after a few songs, I’m feeling more confident—even dancing a little!—as the three of us circle the rink with the rest of the crowd and sing along to the music. I don’t normally dance, but hey, I have nothing to lose, right? It feels good to be moving and getting some of my pent-up energy out.
“Do you remember when we were here for Carmen’s eighth birthday party?” Ana has to shout over the music.
“The one with the piñata?” I shout back.
“Oh my gosh, yes! My kitty piñata!” Carmen grins. “Mateo was teasing me so bad, telling me a girl could never be the one to break it and get all the candy out. But I showed him!”
Ana laughs. “You sure did! Candy everywhere and then a few extra hits to poor Tío Armando, who was holding it!”
I burst out laughing, too. “Oh my gosh! I totally forgot about that!”
“All us kids dove for the candy immediately. Meanwhile, Carmen is beating the crap out of Tío Armando and none of the adults even cared!”
“In the end I barely got any candy!” Carmen fake-pouts. “Still salty about that.”
I continue. “Oh! Oh! What about the time when we were here and that one guy was trying to show off for the crowd by doing a trick, but he tripped over his own feet and his hair went flying?!”
“The toupee!” we shriek in unison, then start howling. Soon enough, we’re just reminiscing about being kids—the dinners and barbecues and holidays and backyard baseball games—and I realize how long it’s been since we’ve really connected.
When we skate off the rink to take a break in the food court, I look over at the two of them earnestly. “I’ve missed you guys.”
Ana smiles. “We’ve missed you, too.”
“Yeah, but we haven’t gone anywhere.” Carmen sniffs and looks down at her manicured nails. “We still do stuff together. You’re just not there.”
“Carmen—” Ana starts, but Carmen cuts her off, locking eyes with me.
“I’m just saying. You stopped hanging out with us. I mean, not to be a bitch, but it was pretty shocking to even hear from you tonight.”
I’ve always loved Carmen’s blunt nature, but it is tough to have it directed at you. Still…
“You’re absolutely right.” I frown a little. “After my dad, I don’t know. I just retreated inward, I guess. And things with my mom have never been good, so it’s like it was just easier to be by myself. It’s no excuse, though.”
But Carmen’s expression has softened and Ana is nodding.
“I can only imagine,” Carmen says.
“After we lost your dad, it was hard to lose you, too.” I feel a small pang in my chest, hearing that from Ana. She gives me a soft smile, though. “I don’t know what made you reach out tonight, but I’m really glad you did. And honestly, that’s what matters. That you’re back.”
Carmen arches an eyebrow. “Like, back-back, right?”
I grin. “Back-back. Like, good-luck-getting-rid-of-me back. Like, you’re-going-to-be-so sick-of-my-shit back.”
We laugh at that and Carmen offers to get us drinks, while I use this as a moment to take a bathroom break—and okay, fine, to swing by the lockers and check my phone.
There’s a text from Brian that just says, Charlie?
Ana catches me lingering by the locker. “You okay, Mama?” she asks. “If it’s about what we said, I hope you know we’re all good.”
“Oh, yeah, it’s nothing,” I say, shoving my phone back into the locker.
“Not sure I buy that. You just shoved that phone into your locker like it’s poison.”
I sigh. “Yeah. It’s a boy.”
Ana sighs, too. “Isn’t that always the way?” She holds out her hand to me. “Come on.” We skate toward the food court, where Carmen is hunkered down at a table with our drinks. “It’s a boy,” Ana says, as if continuing a conversation she’d already been having with Carmen.
“Ohhhh,” Carmen says knowingly. She looks at me and pats the seat next to her. “Sit!”
“Tell us,” Ana urges.
I shake my head. “I did not come all the way out to Crazy Skates to burden you with my problems. Not after you guys so generously let me crash your night!”
“Is that not what family is for?” Carmen asks. “Plus, you said you’re going to make us sick of your shit. You’ve gotta live up to your promise. A little boy drama is the perfect way.”
I look from Carmen to Ana. “You sure?” I ask.
They nod. And so it comes out.
Not all of it—there’d be so much to explain—but the important parts of it. Brian and our relationship. The fight with Amelia. What she said to me. How I haven’t been speaking to either of them.
Ana sucks in air through her teeth once I explain that I’ve been kind of ghosting Brian. “You can’t do that,” she says. “You have to be up-front with him—even if it’s going to hurt.”
“I don’t know. Guys ghost all the time,” Carmen says. “Maybe they should get a taste of their own medicine! Let’s just throw them all away, honestly.”
“Yeah, but Brian would never ghost me,” I say. “He’s not like that.”
“Then just cut him loose,” Ana urges. “Don’t keep him on the hook. That’s the fairest thing to do, I think, if you’ve already made up your mind.”
What she says makes sense—and suddenly, the bumping music and the skates and the disco lights on the rink feel so silly. I can’t pretend my way out of this no matter how much I wish I could.
“Why do you always have to be so rational, Ana?” Carmen looks at me, defeated. “She’s probably right.”
I nod. “I think so, too.”
Ana looks over at the clock on the wall, then at Carmen. She makes a face. “It’s getting late, so we should head home.” To me, she says, “You good?”
“I will be.”
Carmen pats my arm and we rise from the booth and skate over to the lockers. “Thank you so much for letting me join you,” I say. “And for your advice. I really, really needed it.”
Ana gives me a smile. “That’s why we’re here.”
“And we could be there for you more if you were just, you know, around more!” Carmen teases. “So text us! Okay?”
“Okay, I will,” I promise. Then we take off our skates, return our rentals, exchange hugs, and head our separate ways.
When I get home, it’s nearly eleven, but I text Brian anyway.
Can we talk? I write.
He responds almost instantly. There you are! I’ve been going out of my mind. Are you okay? Can I call?
I’m okay. Don’t call, I write.
It’s been DAYS since I’ve seen or really heard from you, Charlie.
I type, I know. I’m sorry.
Seriously, what’s going on??? Is everything all right??? he asks.
I feel such a swell of hurt in my heart. R
egardless of what’s happened, Brian is tender and kind. He is thoughtful and caring. He is a good person. And part of me doesn’t want to admit that what we had is over. But I also can’t do this. I just can’t be someone’s next-best thing. I need to be the one and only, at least once in my life. So I have to let him go.
I type out my reply and stare at it until the words blur with tears. It’s simple. It’s clear. And I hate it.
I push send before I lose my nerve:
I think we should break up. I’m sorry.
There are those three gray dots and I brace myself for his reply.
It doesn’t come, and I think it’s better this way.
Chapter Forty-Five
When it’s time for school the next day, I relent and decide to go. Before homeroom, I run into Amelia at her locker. I miss her, and with the breakup text to Brian out of the way, I know it’s time for me to face whatever difficult conversation lies ahead.
I give her a soft smile. “Hey.”
“Charlie,” she breathes, a remorseful smile on her lips. “How are you?”
I shrug. “I’ve been better.”
“Yeah,” she says. “I bet.” A pause. “Have you seen my texts?”
I pull some books from my bag and stack them in my locker, not looking at her. “I have.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I see her nod. “Well. I meant them. I’m so sorry, Charlie.” She keeps her voice quiet. “And selfishly, I hope we can talk soon. Singing the Hamilton soundtrack is getting real lonely without Hamilton.”
At that, I smile a little as I shut my locker. “I imagine it would be.”
“I won’t push. Just, think about it, okay? It would be good to talk,” she says. “Anyway, I hope you have a good day today.”
“Thanks,” I reply. “You too.”
We don’t speak again during the day and I opt to eat lunch by myself, sitting at Benjamin’s table (because at least there’s one person in this world things are uncomplicated with). But at the end of the day, I bump into Amelia in the parking lot.
“We can’t keep meeting like this,” I say.
She laughs, toying with the keys in her hand. “At least we’re seeing each other.”
“Yeah. We should probably go back to talking to each other, too,” I say.
“I would really like that,” she says. “I’m so sorry for what I said.”
“I’m sorry, too.” I let out a sigh, releasing some of the jumbled feelings I’ve been carrying around with me. Then I ask, “Coffee?”
“Meet you there.” I beat her to Jake’s and snag our table by the window once I’ve got our drinks. She joins me shortly after and we both sit quietly. She breaks the silence.
“Is it okay if I talk first?”
“Please,” I say.
“I’ve been rehearsing this in my head, but it might still come out all messed up. I’m just so, so sorry, Charlie. I said some really unthinkably cruel things. I did some really unthinkably cruel things—and at a really special moment in your life.” Amelia’s eyes are already glistening with tears. I feel myself getting emotional, too, thinking back to our fight.
“Yeah, it was…rough. I really wanted to share the excitement of my first anniversary with you, Amelia,” I say. “And it hurt that you weren’t interested, like, at all.”
“I know! I know. You’ve always listened to me gush and you’ve been so supportive and I just totally blew it,” she says. “I’m super embarrassed to admit this, but I think I was just used to being the one who got all of your attention. When that changed, I just…I guess I lashed out. I know that’s stupid and it’s not right and I’m heartbroken that we can’t get that moment back.”
“I’m sad about it, too,” I say, frowning. “And it wasn’t all you. It really wasn’t. I’ve been kind of a crappy friend—no, scratch that, I have been a crappy friend—and you were right to feel like I’d been ditching you. I had been! I’ve been putting Brian first and just being the kind of person I’ve never wanted to be. I didn’t mean to take you or our friendship for granted. And I never should have complained about you to Brian. That wasn’t cool at all, and I don’t want you to think that’s who I am.”
“I already know that’s not who you are. So don’t worry about that. And now that I’ve had some time to think, I realize what a massive jerk I was being. Yeah, you were kind of MIA, but I’d been icing you out for weeks because I felt like you weren’t making time for me and that only made things worse.” Amelia sighs. “I’m sorry. And I get the thrill of being in a new relationship.”
“It was pretty thrilling,” I say.
Amelia gives me a small smile. “Especially because this is your first! Of course those feelings are amplified times a million.”
“They just kind of took over,” I admit.
“As they do—but it’s no excuse for how I behaved.” She casts her gaze down. “I’m just so full of regret. I never should have said—well, you know.”
I swallow and look away. “Yeah. I know.” We’re both quiet, and when I speak again, my voice is small. “But…it’s true, right?”
By the way Amelia’s fiddling with her coffee cup rather than answering the question, I know that it is. She just doesn’t want to say it.
“Amelia, it’s true, right?” I ask again.
She meets my eyes. “Yeah, it’s true,” she says, sighing. “I wish I’d never said anything. He asked me out last year and it was so not a big deal. Like, I’d forgotten he asked me out, even, but then I found myself in an angry-spiral one night and remembered and I…I used it as ammunition to hurt you. Which is the worst thing I could’ve done.”
I can tell she’s ashamed to say that out loud. “It’s okay, Amelia. It’s better that I know.”
“It’s not, though. On either count.”
“It is. After Cal, I decided I was never going to mix our friendship with boys again. I need to protect myself and my heart. So I made a choice. I broke up with Brian.” I say it very matter-of-factly, like of course this is what I’ve decided to do.
Amelia blinks. “What?! You’re joking!”
I shake my head. “I’m not.”
“But why?”
I bite my lip. How do I put into words that this one seemingly small thing is actually an indicator of something much larger? That it’s another moment in years’ worth of moments where Amelia came first—to friends, to boys, to my own mother?
How do I explain to her that sometimes being near her feels like I’m standing in the darkness of an eclipse? And that it’s in no way her fault?
I pick my words carefully. “I want to be chosen first. I need to be somebody’s unequivocal first choice.”
“But you are his first choice!” Amelia insists. “He picked you!”
I shake my head. She’s not getting it. “It’s bigger than that. I’ve been coming in second place to you my whole life, Amelia. And it’s not your fault, it’s just how it is. You’re you. I’m me. And the world has told me more than once that I’m inferior to you. So being with someone who liked you first…it just feels like all those fears are confirmed. Like I can’t have anything just for me. Like I don’t deserve it.”
Amelia looks horrified—betrayed, maybe, confused. “What? Where is this coming from?”
“I’m sorry if that sounds terrible,” I say. “But it’s hard not to feel that way around you sometimes!”
There are tears rimming her eyes again. “I seriously can’t believe you feel that way—that you’ve felt that way. This whole time. And never said anything. And now I’m the reason you’re depriving yourself of someone you liked—maybe loved.”
“You don’t understand.”
“No, I don’t.” She quickly swipes at her eyes. “Can we just stop talking about this, please?”
“Amelia…,” I start, but I actually don’t have anything to follow up with.
“I’ll be fine. We good?”
There is so much more I should say. I don’t. “We’re good.”
<
br /> Chapter Forty-Six
I have Amelia back, so I should be happy.
But things are still a little weird between us since I told her about the breakup.
Oh, and there’s that big, empty void where Brian used to be.
At school, I’ve gotten pretty good at avoiding him and I imagine he’s avoiding me, too, which I get—but I admit that I take it personally. It hurts. It hurts even more when I find a note in my locker from him.
Charlie—
I know you prefer writing when it comes to things like this. I just want to talk. I don’t want to push or overstep, but I’m just really confused. I thought we had something really, really good, and I don’t know what happened. I don’t know what I did. Please.
—Brian
It’s just enough to hit a nerve by being too kind, too gentle, too…Brian. I can’t stop the tears and I rush to the bathroom, locking myself in a stall.
The door creaks open moments later, and then, “Charlie?” It’s Amelia.
“In here,” I say shakily.
“You okay?” she asks, voice soft.
“No.”
“What happened?”
Over the top of the stall, I hand her the note, which she takes. After a minute, I open the door to see her reading it. She glances up at me, concern all over her face.
“This is really sad. He’s clearly upset. And look at you—so are you. I know you’ve been trying to hide it, but…you’re not yourself.”
“I’m not myself because it hurts,” I say. “This sucks.”
“Does it have to?”
“What do you mean?”
“Maybe you should talk to him,” she says, like that’s the simplest suggestion in the world.
“I can’t.”
“Why not?”
I don’t have a good answer to that. “Because.”
Amelia hands me back the note. “He seems really bewildered right now. Have you even talked to him, like, at all?”
“Aside from breaking up with him? No.”
“I feel like he deserves at least a conversation.”
I rub at one of my eyes. “I don’t know if I have it in me.”
Fat Chance, Charlie Vega Page 27