“Well, bye. And, um, Nate?” She speaks quickly, in a rush. “I had a crush on you back then. For whatever that’s worth. Nothing, probably. But anyway. FYI. So, good night.”
After she hangs up I put the phone on my bedside table and pick up the other one. I read Amber’s message again, then type, Come over.
Bronwyn’s na?ve if she thinks there’s more to me than that.
Addy
Wednesday, October 3, 7:50 a.m.
Ashton keeps making me go to school. My mother couldn’t care less. As far as she’s concerned I’ve ruined all our lives, so it doesn’t much matter what I do anymore. She doesn’t say those exact words, but they’re etched across her face every time she looks at me.
“Five thousand dollars just to talk to a lawyer, Adelaide,” she hisses at me over breakfast Thursday morning. “I hope you know that’s coming out of your college fund.”
I’d roll my eyes if I had the energy. We both know I don’t have a college fund. She’s been on the phone to my father in Chicago for days, hassling him for the money. He doesn’t have much to spare, thanks to his second, younger family, but he’ll probably send at least half to shut her up and feel good about what an involved parent he is.
Jake still won’t talk to me, and I miss him so much, it’s like I’ve been hollowed out by a nuclear blast and there’s nothing left but ashes fluttering inside brittle bones. I’ve sent him dozens of texts that aren’t only unanswered; they’re unread. He unfriended me on Facebook and unfollowed me on Instagram and Snapchat. He’s pretending I don’t exist and I’m starting to think he’s right. If I’m not Jake’s girlfriend, who am I?
He was supposed to be suspended all week for hitting TJ, but his parents raised a fuss about how Simon’s death has put everyone on edge, so I guess he’s back today. The thought of seeing him makes me sick enough that I decided to stay home. Ashton had to drag me out of bed. She’s staying with us indefinitely, for now.
“You’re not going to wither up and die from this, Addy,” Ashton lectures as she shoves me toward the shower. “He doesn’t get to erase you from the world. God, you made a stupid mistake. It’s not like you murdered someone.
“Well,” she adds with a short, sarcastic laugh, “I guess the jury’s still out on that one.”
Oh, the gallows humor in our household now. Who knew Prentiss girls had it in them to be even a little bit funny?
Ashton drives me to Bayview and drops me off out front. “Keep your chin up,” she advises. “Don’t let that sanctimonious control freak get you down.”
“God, Ash. I did cheat on him, you know. He’s not unprovoked.”
She purses her lips in a hard line. “Still.”
I get out of the car and try to steel myself for the day. School used to be so easy. I belonged to everything without even trying. Now I’m barely hanging on to the edges of who I used to be, and when I catch my reflection in a window I hardly recognize the girl staring back at me. She’s in my clothes—the kind of formfitting top and tight jeans that Jake likes—but her hollow cheeks and dead eyes don’t match the outfit.
My hair looks tremendous, though. At least I have that going for me.
There’s only one person who looks worse than me at school, and that’s Janae. She must have lost ten pounds since Simon died, and her skin’s a mess. Her mascara’s running all the time, so I guess she cries in the bathroom between classes as much as I do. It’s surprising we haven’t run into each other yet.
I see Jake at his locker almost as soon as I enter the hallway. All the blood rushes out of my head, making me so light-headed I actually sway as I walk toward him. His expression is calm and preoccupied as he twirls his combination. For a second I hope everything’s going to be fine, that his time away from school has helped him cool off and forgive me. “Hi, Jake,” I say.
His face changes in an instant from neutral to livid. He yanks his locker open with a scowl and pulls out an armful of books, stuffing them into his backpack. He slams his locker, shoulders his backpack, and turns away.
“Are you ever going to talk to me again?” I ask. My voice is tiny, breathless. Pathetic.
He turns and gives me such a hate-filled look that I step backward. “Not if I can help it.”
Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Everyone’s staring at me as Jake stalks away. I catch Vanessa smirking from a few lockers over. She’s loving this. How did I ever think she was my friend? She’ll probably go after Jake soon, if she hasn’t already. I stumble in front of my own locker, my hand stretching toward the lock. It takes a few seconds for the word written in thick black Sharpie to sink in.
WHORE.
Muffled laughter surrounds me as my eyes trace the two Vs that make up the W. They cross each other in a distinctive, loopy scrawl. I’ve made dozens of pep rally posters for the Bayview Wildcats with Vanessa, and teased her for her funny-looking Ws. She didn’t even try to hide it. I guess she wanted me to know.
I force myself to walk, not run, to the nearest bathroom. Two girls stand at the mirror, fixing their makeup, and I duck past them into the farthest stall. I collapse onto the toilet seat and cry silently, burying my head in my hands.
The first bell rings but I stay where I am, tears rolling down my cheeks until I’m cried out. I fold my arms onto my knees and lower my head, immobile as the second bell rings and girls come in and out of the bathroom again. Snatches of conversation float through the room and, yeah, some of it’s about me. I plug my ears and try not to listen.
It’s the middle of third period by the time I uncoil myself and stand. I unlock the stall door and head for the mirror, pushing my hair away from my face. My mascara’s washed away, but I’ve been here long enough that my eyes aren’t puffy. I stare at my reflection and try to collect my scattered thoughts. I can’t deal with classes today. I’d go to the nurse’s office and claim a headache, but I don’t feel comfortable there now that I’m a suspected EpiPen thief. That leaves only one option: getting out of here and going home.
I’m in the back stairwell with my hand on the door when heavy footsteps pound the stairs. I turn to see TJ Forrester coming down; his nose is still swollen and framed by a black eye. He stops when he sees me, one hand gripping the banister. “Hey, Addy.”
“Shouldn’t you be in class?”
“I have a doctor’s appointment.” He puts a hand to his nose and grimaces. “I might have a deviated septum.”
“Serves you right.” The bitter words burst out before I can stop them.
TJ’s mouth falls open, then closes, and his Adam’s apple bobs up and down. “I didn’t say anything to Jake, Addy. I swear to God. I didn’t want this to come out any more than you did. It’s messed things up for me too.” He touches his nose again gingerly.
I wasn’t actually thinking about Jake; I was thinking about Simon. But of course TJ wouldn’t know anything about the unpublished posts. How did Simon know, though? “We were the only two people there,” I hedge. “You must have told somebody.”
TJ shakes his head, wincing as though the movement hurts. “We were kissing on a public beach before we got to my house, remember? Anyone could have seen us.”
“But they wouldn’t have known—” I stop, realizing Simon’s site never said TJ and I slept together. He implied it, pretty heavily, but that was it. Maybe I’d overconfessed. The thought sickens me, although I’m not sure I could have managed to tell Jake only a half-truth anyway. He’d have gotten it out of me eventually.