“Well, yeah.” Aria frowned. “Don’t you think that’s a big deal? Toby’s weird.”
Ali shrugged. “Yeah, but that’s not exactly news.”
She rested her head on Aria’s shoulder, thinking for a moment how she could get Aria to talk. She decided to use her last-ditch plan. She cleared her throat. “Something weird happened to me, too, and I really need someone to talk to about it.” She stared at the lawn. “I think my parents are breaking up.” Just saying the words made a lump form in her throat.
Aria twisted around to stare at her head-on. “Why would you say that?”
“They’ve been arguing a lot.” Ali stared at her palms. “And they’ve said they have something to tell me and Jason—I just know it’s about that.” There was no way she was telling her about her mom, though. Not yet.
“I’m sorry.”
Aria looked genuinely sympathetic. It felt good for a moment, but then Ali realized it wasn’t enough. “I don’t know what I’d do if my parents weren’t together,” she said. “It would be even weirder if they were with someone else. Have you ever thought about that?”
Aria folded in her shoulders. “Not really.”
“Your mom’s beautiful, though—and she’s around all those art dealers. Your dad is surrounded by students twenty-four-seven. It’s possible, don’t you think?”
Several expressions—awkwardness, humiliation, shame—crossed Aria’s face at once. “Anything’s possible, I guess.”
Her lips parted, perhaps to spill it all. But then her gaze landed on something just past Ali, and she stood up from the swing so quickly that Ali went careening backward. “Oh! Jason!”
Jason walked up the front steps, his backpack slung over one shoulder. “Hey,” he said gruffly.
“How are you?” Aria’s voice was high-pitched and strange. “Are you excited to graduate?”
“Not really,” Jason said, opening the door and banging it shut again.
Aria sank back into the swing, looking disappointed. Ali pressed her fingernails into the meatiest part of her palm, feeling humiliated. Had Aria just changed the subject on purpose? Did she know . . . and not want to tell? Ali had just told Aria something true and scary and terrible. Didn’t Aria have the decency to reciprocate? Wasn’t that what friends did?
Nastiness settled over her like a heavy black cloak, and she poked Aria hard. “Do you still like Noel?”
Aria’s eyes lit up. “Of course! Did you talk to him about me?”
“I did, in fact,” Ali lied.
“And?”
Ali allowed a slight pause, then laid her hand on Aria’s knee and squeezed. “Well, I went over to his house. But something kind of . . . weird happened. I told him about you, and he said he likes you as a friend.”
The corners of Aria’s mouth turned down. “Oh.”
“And then he said he likes me. And I think I like him back.”
Aria sat back. “Oh!” Her voice was unnaturally bright. “Okay. Wow.”
“But I won’t go out with him if you don’t want me to.”
The pain was obvious in Aria’s face. “Um, okay,” she said after a moment.
For a moment, Ali almost regretted the lie. Noel probably would have gone for Aria if Ali had asked. And she really had planned to talk to him about her. But why should she put herself out for a friend who wouldn’t even tell her what was going on in her life? Friendships were tit for tat—what was she getting out of this?
The corners of Aria’s mouth wobbled. She looked at her phone screen urgently, even though it hadn’t chimed. “Um, I have to go,” she said. “My mom needs me.”
“Trouble at home?” Ali asked as a final attempt. If she admits it now, I’ll tell her I made it all up, she decided. I’ll tell her I’ll talk to Noel for real.
But Aria just scrambled down the porch. “No,” she said, breaking Ali’s heart just a little. And then she sprang up and headed across the backyard. Ali watched her disappear into the woods on her way to her development. Her head was down, her shoulders hunched, and, after a moment, Ali was sure she heard a low, uncontrolled sob emanating from the pines.
Ali pressed her lips together and tried to swallow her regret. It wasn’t sad. It was good.
18
NOTHING LIKE HEARING YOUR BFF SING YOUR PRAISES!
A few days later, the last bell of the day rang, and all the students in Ali’s English class leapt to their feet and headed to the door. “Don’t forget, people!” Mrs. Lowry, their English teacher, bellowed. “Your Hemingway parodies are due on Monday! I’m not taking any lates!”
“Have you started yours yet?” Spencer asked Ali as they walked through the door and into the hall, which was crowded with kids at their lockers.
“Nope,” Ali answered, shaking her head. “Wanna do it for me?”