Be the Girl

I follow her finger to where Emmett stands, next to his open trunk, facing Holly. His arms are folded across his chest, his face carved in stone. Holly keeps shaking her head and swiping her fingers across her cheek, as if to wipe away tears.

“Hi, Emmett!” Cassie calls, waving frantically, oblivious to their bodily cues that scream, “Do not disturb.”

Holly reaches for his arm and he jerks his shoulder away.

“No. We’re done,” I think I see him mouth.

Holy shit.

This is because of me, because of the video I showed him.

“Emmett!” Cassie calls again. “Holly!”

“You know what? They look like they’re having a serious conversation,” I say slowly. “So we should keep going and you can talk to him later tonight.”

“Yeah. Okay,” she agrees, but she doesn’t move, her eyes narrowing. “I think Holly’s crying.”

“Yeah, I think she might be.”

“Oh no! What’s wrong? Is she hurt?” Rare and genuine grief fills Cassie’s voice.

“I don’t know,” I lie. Callous as Holly’s words may have been, I don’t doubt her feelings for Emmett are real. Which means we’re standing here, watching her heart get ripped out of her chest. “But we should leave them alone, okay?”

Emmett slams his trunk and climbs into the driver’s seat. In seconds, he’s pulling out, leaving Holly there, hugging herself, her face a picture of devastation.

“Holly! Hi!” Cassie waves frantically, as if either she didn’t hear me or she’s choosing to ignore me. “Are you okay?”

Holly looks over at us and then spins on her heels and marches toward her Civic, digging her keys out of her pocket.

Cassie watches, an odd mixture of hurt, confusion, and curiosity filling her face. What’s going on in that head of hers at this moment? How is she’s interpreting this?

“Come on. Let’s go home.”

She squints up at the sky again and pauses a few beats. “Is it raining?” she asks, as fat drops splatter over her lenses.

I sigh. “Yeah. It’s raining.”





My pant legs are soaked and my stomach is in knots by the time I step through the front door.

Uncle Merv is sitting in his usual spot, but his eyes are closed and he’s wearing big black headphones, plugged into the tablet my mother bought him last week. To bring him into this century, she claimed.

“Hey, hon! How was your day?” Mom calls out from the kitchen, her voice light and unsuspecting. Not the voice of an angry person.

I find her seated at the old kitchen table with her tea, smiling. “Look at this old wedding photo of Connie and Merv. I found it in a pile of paperwork and had it retouched and framed.” She holds up the picture for me to see. “Look how young Uncle Merv was!”

She hasn’t listened to the text Emmett forwarded from my phone. Not yet, anyway. I exhale with the bit of relief this brings me.

“Young and thin.” Toothpick thin, with long, skinny legs.

She chuckles. “I’m going to hang it up in the living room for him, as soon as I can find a hammer.”

An array of pamphlets is spread out on the table in front of her. “What’s all this?”

“Oh, I’ve had it with these dinosaur appliances. They’re at least a hundred years old. That oven is uneven and the dishwasher doesn’t clean a thing. Mick said he’d install it if I have it delivered. And …,” she waves a hand at the exterior paint catalogue, “I was thinking about having the front of the house freshened up in the spring. It always used to look so nice, with the flowers and the clean, white porch. Aunt Connie would sit out there every afternoon and crochet.” She smiles, more to herself. “It’s time to bring back some of that charm to this old place.”

I was half kidding when I told Uncle Merv that his house would be unrecognizable by the time Mom went back to work, but I’m not so sure that will be wrong. She’s spending a lot of money for a person who’s currently unemployed. I know she made a lot off the sale of our house out west. I overheard her talking to the realtor about how it was the best investment she’d ever made—a case of buying at the right time, in the right place. Plus, between my dad and her both being lawyers, and only having one kid, I never wanted for much.

I notice the plate of fruit on the table between us. “Is that for me?”

She shrugs. “You complained about needing a break from all the baking, so there you go. Plus, the freezer is full of zucchini bread. Sit, and talk to me.” She smiles warmly. “Tell me about your day.”

My day was horrible, Mom. Like crawl-under-my-covers-and-never-come-out horrible. There was nothing good about today. And I’m torn between confessing this to her—because I’ll have to give details—and lying, telling her that everything is fine. Except, she’s probably going to watch that video. Tonight or tomorrow, or next week. And when she does, it’s all going to come out. I’ll have no choice but to explain, and my mother will start to worry that I’m hiding things from her again.

I swallow my anxiety and fear. “Number one …”





Mom sets my phone down on the table, having listened to the recording twice. Her face is unreadable as she takes a sip of her tea. “Well, that girl’s a piece of work.”

“She’s awful. I don’t care what she said about me. But it’s Cassie and Jen.” Mom listens quietly as I fill her in on Jen and Holly’s history, of how cruel Holly has been to Jen in the past. And each cringe from my mother, each frown, each headshake emboldens me, makes me think that I did the right thing.

“This is not okay, Aria.” She taps my phone. “Recording other girls in your school like that is not okay—”

“Mom, I know!” Tears prick my eyes. Of all people, I know.

“Of course, you do,” she says, squeezing the bridge of her nose. “What did Emmett say?”

“Nothing to me, but he was mad. And I’m pretty sure he dumped her after school. That’s what it looked like it in the parking lot, anyway.”

She nods through a quiet sip of tea. “At least he has his priorities straight.”

“He’s the one who forwarded the video to himself, right after he watched it, before I knew what he was doing. I didn’t send that to him.”

She waggles a finger at me. “See how fast something like that can happen—”

“I know, Mom.” I feel like I’ve said that a hundred times since sitting down. “He promised he wouldn’t send it anywhere else.” I just don’t know if I can believe him.

She purses her lips. “I saw that text come through earlier today, but I didn’t open it. I don’t want to be snooping and monitoring you. Especially when it comes to Emmett and Cassie.” She drums her fingers over the table’s surface. “That’s why you’re telling me now, isn’t it? Because you figured I might see it.”

I shrug and avert my eyes to the table. Guilty as charged.

“I’m glad you told me, Aria. I’m not happy about any of this but your heart was in the right place, which is the important part here. Hopefully, this Holly girl will learn a valuable lesson from this.” She spins the appliance pamphlet around. “Do you think we should go with all black? Or stainless steel?”

I blink at her. Is that it? Is that all she’s going to say?

“Or there’s this model that’s a mix of black and stainless steel. That could be good.”

“Uh … What would Uncle Merv like?”

She waves that thought away with a laugh. “Oh, he doesn’t care. I set him up with an audiobook account and he’s been in that chair all day, quiet. He’s in heaven.” She gives me a pointed look. “And, now, so am I.”





Emmett pulls into his driveway at nine thirty that night, as I’m curled up on my window seat, my textbook in my lap, halfway through my functions and quadratic equations homework.

He climbs out, pops his trunk, and hauls his equipment out, only to toss the bag haphazardly on the grass beside his SUV.

He looks up at my window.

Do I pretend I’m not watching him? Do I wave hello? Do I keep staring out my window, debating what I should do, until this gets super awkward?

He slides his phone out of his back pocket.

A moment later, my phone chirps with an incoming text.

Can you come out to talk?