I hear the logic in her voice. I recognize the truth there. But if El entered, she could really win. And that’s why she could ruin this.
I remember that night, two years ago, as we sat at the kitchen table and I pretended that I hadn’t heard my mom tell her to enter the pageant. It shouldn’t have mattered to me, but it did. It was a moment I’d kept locked away deep inside of me, and now it was all I could see. On a loop. She was my mother. She lived at the end of the hall, and in all that time, she’d never extended an invitation to me.
I deserve to be selfish, I think. I deserve to make something about me.
“You already have everything,” I say. The perfect parents. The perfect job. The perfect boyfriend. “Let me have this.”
El shakes her head. “That’s not fair. You can’t put that on me. Maybe Callie was right, Will. Maybe we’re outgrowing each other. Holding each other back. I miss out on lots of things because of you. I can’t believe you would even think of asking me not to enter.”
All the sorrow and bitterness I’ve felt over the last few months is clumping together into one giant fit of rage. Holding each other back? “Callie? Really? I can’t believe you talk to her about us. Sorry I can’t be some mindless friend for you who sits around and tells you how fucking flawless you are, okay? Just go ahead and say what you mean. We don’t hold each other back. I hold you back, isn’t that right?”
She doesn’t answer.
“I’m not your goddamn sidekick or your chubby best friend.” I take a step closer to her. “This whole pageant thing is about me, El. I am making this about me.”
Her face turns an angry shade of red. “You’re a shitty-ass friend, Will, and I’m done wasting my time. I’m not backing out of this.” And then she leaves.
THIRTY-ONE
On Monday, Ellen ignored me. And I deserved that. I expected it. We’re both quick to anger, but Ellen is always ready to forgive. It’s something I’ve come to count on. But then came the weekend without even a text. On Tuesday, not even Tim acknowledged me. And that’s when the knot in my stomach turned into panic.
Today, I have to talk to her. I don’t know who’s wrong and who’s right, but I’m not prepared to go through this without her. I catch her in the hallway, after second period. It’ll be fine, I tell myself. We’re like an old married couple who can’t even remember what they were arguing about to begin with.
“Hey, Ellen! Hey.”
She stops and turns to me. Her whole body is taut and closed off.
“What the hell am I even going to do for my talent?” I ask, trying to pretend like nothing happened.
She opens her mouth, and my heart raps against my chest as I wait for her to say something. But then she shakes her head and walks off.
Callie pushes past me and gives me a dirty look before running after my best friend. “El-bell!”
The tears well up behind my eyes all day long, waiting to burst. I leave school as fast as I can. My mom has decided to let me take her car to and from school as long as I drop her off at work every morning. The second I am outside of the parking lot, I let the tears run. Dripping down my cheeks. Big, thick, and heavy. Like angry drops of rain against a windshield.
She should understand. Of all people she should know. I roll to a stoplight and close my eyes for a moment, but when I do, the only thing I see is that day when we were fourteen. It’s selfish and it’s wrong, I know. But I’m not perfect and neither is she. When you love someone enough, you accept their flaws. You make sacrifices to keep them sane. I need her to keep me sane. I need her to sacrifice this for me.
Behind me a horn blares, reminding me that I am behind the wheel of a three-thousand-pound hunk of metal.
At home, I pull into the driveway. I’ve got two hours to kill before I have to pick my mom up.
I yank my rearview mirror toward me and dab at my eyes. Dab, my mother would say. Wiping only makes your eyes puffier.