“Because they kissed. And now Markos is a shut-in.”
Diana and Ari looked at him and then at each other, then, simultaneously, at me. I saw in their eyes every shred of possible understanding and forgiveness falling away; as flimsy as it was, it flaked off like the thinnest gold leaf. Underneath, there was nothing but cold, ugly concrete. All the anxieties I’d unhooked jumped and flew at me, making it hard to breathe.
“I don’t know what he’s talking about,” I said.
“They kissed,” Cal insisted, then burped. “Markos said so. He wouldn’t lie to me.”
I bit the side of my mouth and wished again for some wit, to know what to say and how to say it so that they’d understand and forgive me. “If it is true—which I’m not saying it is—but if he’s telling the truth, it was before I knew Diana was with Markos. If she’d told me they were together—”
“What the hell, Kay?”
“Ari, don’t,” Diana said.
Ari ignored her, getting louder by the second. “You claim to be this perfect friend who’s always here for us, but meanwhile you’re spelling us and kissing Diana’s crush—it’s sick. You’re sick.”
“Please stop,” Diana said. People at surrounding tables whispered to their waiters, pointing in our direction.
“Do you even know what being a friend is? Because I may have forgotten a lot in the past year but I know enough not to do something so monumentally stupid to the nicest, most loyal, best friend you’ve ever been lucky enough to—”
“Shut up, Ari!” Diana said. Her face was bright red. She still held Cal’s sleeve, as if she’d forgotten to let go. “Stop defending me. You’re not some paragon of perfect friendship.”
Ari flushed and drew herself up taller. “I’m not as bad as her.” She pointed at me.
“Think about it, though. It doesn’t matter what Kay did. Markos would’ve still broken up with me because I lied to him about your stupid spell.”
Ari stepped back and stumbled into the booth. “You blame me for what Markos did?”
Diana took a shaky breath. “You’ll always be my best friend, Ari. But sometimes it you’re not very good at it.” Diana turned to Cal and pulled on his arm. “Come on. I’ll hail you a cab.” Cal allowed himself to be led out of the restaurant.
I wished I could follow them. During the conversation the place had become drab and unromantic, with cheap tablecloths and tacky seafaring decoration. I should’ve picked someplace else to eat. Someplace less beachy, less summery. A bistro with white tablecloths and classical music playing. Maybe none of this would’ve happened if I’d chosen differently.
Ari and I faced each other across the booth. “I tried to be a good friend,” I said. Ari snorted and I spoke faster to stop her from speaking over me. “I did. I love you guys. I’ve been trying to help you all summer.” My voice warbled, which I hated. I didn’t have to explain anything to her, but I did anyway. “I’ve been staying near. Even when you ignored me or made fun of me, I knew I had to stick around. And maybe—maybe one day everything would go back to normal. You’d appreciate me. We’d be real friends.”
It was humiliating down to my bones, as if I’d burned off clothes and skin and muscle to get to the truth. Tears stung behind my eyes, more from anger than from sadness, and I held them back.
Ari shook her head. “Diana’s mad but she and I will be fine. You’re delusional if you think it’ll be the same with you.”
Ouch.
Unhook it. Hang it away.
I stood up. Mina stood, too, but I refused to look at her, and she let me leave the restaurant alone.
I left Ari and Mina stewing in the restaurant, hating me. Cal and Diana, waiting for a cab on the street, hating me. Fine. I hated them, too.
Only I didn’t really hate them.
All the feelings I’d unhooked were still there. I could unhook them but that didn’t mean they were gone. Somewhere in me, I was ashamed. They’d seen the worst part of me, the truest part. I could pretend that it was good enough to order them around and get them to do what I wanted, the birthday dinner and sitting sullenly in my backyard, but what I really wanted them to realize was how much they missed me. And I couldn’t force that.
Instead, I punished them. I was true to my word and didn’t call any of them for four days.
Knowing what I did about the spell, I knew that what happened then was partly, if not fully, my fault.
It was so early the heat hadn’t sunk into the ground yet, and the papers were being delivered by a middle-aged man in a truck. There were no other cars on the road, and the quiet made the buzz of cicadas even louder. When I got to Diana’s house, her mother answered the door in her housecoat and broke into a huge grin, like I was delivering a sweepstakes win. Diana must not have told her what I’d done. I hated her for not screaming at me.