Be the Girl

I smile and tuck my phone away before finishing up in the bathroom stall. I step out and round the corner.

And find Holly standing in front of the tiny mirror, dabbing at the tears that run down her cheeks. I hadn’t heard the door creak open, hadn’t heard her make a sound. At least she’s alone.

And I can guess what those tears are about.

I quickly wash my hands, intent on getting the hell out of there. She deserves it, I remind myself. She brought this on herself.

I’m two seconds from the door, thinking I’m going to avoid an awkward confrontation.

“It was you, wasn’t it?” Her silky-smooth voice rings with a sudden realization.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Guilty. I sound guilty. Can she hear it, too?

“That’s why you were staring at me in the caf that day, at lunch.” Each word comes with more conviction. “That’s why you called me out in class over Jen’s name. You were in here, hiding in the bathroom stall, recording my private conversation.”

“Your private conversation in the girls’ bathroom?” I scoff, trying to shrug it off, daring to face her now.

Disgust twists her beautiful face. “And then you sent it to Emmett so you could break us up. So you could have him.”

“That’s ridiculous, Holly.” A tiny twinge deep inside me flares at her accusation, as if she hit somewhere too close to the truth. “I heard what you said.” I add quickly, “Emmett played the recording for me,” though I don’t know if I’m fooling her anymore. “He deserved to know who he was dating. That’s why whoever sent it to him did it. So he’d know the truth about the kind of person you are.”

She takes two steps forward, moving into my personal space, her eyes filled with rage. “You’re going to regret it.”

“I haven’t done anything wrong.” I hold my stance, setting my jaw, meeting her glare, hoping she can’t see the dread in mine.

The door swings open and two girls stroll in, stopping short at what must look like a fist fight that’s about to break out. I use the interruption as my excuse to hightail it out of there.

What will Holly’s next move be? She has no proof that it was me.

I remind myself of this, even as the weight of her promise settles in my gut.

This is not supposed to be happening again.





It’s five thirty when Heather pulls into the driveway after picking Cassie and me up from the animal shelter. My mom and Mick are leaning against the posts on opposite sides of the porch steps, my mom’s stance casual as she laughs at something Mick said. She’s swapped her usual yoga pants and T-shirt for dark-wash jeans and a soft-pink long-sleeved knit top. Her hair and makeup are done.

She looks … different.

Happy.

Murphy moseys around the front lawn, his nose to the grass, his leash dangling from his collar as if my mother thought to take him for a walk but gave up.

“What is Mick doing now?” Heather asks, parking next to Emmett’s SUV.

Her.

Emmett’s lewd comment from the other day rings in my ear and I stifle my cringe. How long before she’s staying over at his house? “The kitchen floor, I think. Mom wants tile.”

“That’ll freshen it up.” She eyes them shrewdly. Does she suspect that there’s more going on than rendered handyman services?

Cassie pushes the door open. “Murphy!”

The old black dog’s tail wags as he hobbles toward us, giving Cassie’s hand a quick lick before coming to me, his tail’s wag quickening.

I scratch the top of his head. “How was your day with Uncle Merv? As exciting as usual?”

“Aria! I need you to peel the potatoes,” my mom calls out, throwing a casual wave toward Heather, who’s heading up the porch steps with two bags of groceries.

“You, too, Cassie. Carrots,” Heather calls—earning Cassie’s exaggerated groan—as Emmett steps out the front door.

“Hey, you.” Heather angles her cheek up, prompting a kiss from her son.

He appeases her with a quick peck. “Is there more in the car?”

“Three more bags. What time are you leaving tonight?”

“Practice is at eight.” Our eyes meet and his face splits into a smile as he saunters down the stairs, heading toward me.

My stomach flips with anticipation. Is he going to kiss me again, like he did this morning? In front of our mothers and Cassie? Oh God, I hope not. I don’t want to deal with those questions yet. It’s bad enough everyone in school knows already. As quickly as news of Emmett and Holly’s breakup spread, by fourth period I felt eyes from every angle, and whispers of “That’s her” trailing me. People asking who the new girl is and what Emmett sees in her, likely.

But seriously, doesn’t anyone have anything else going on in their lives? The only person who seems to have no clue yet is Cassie.

I scoop up Murphy’s leash and take steps backward, toward the sidewalk. “Hey, Mom, I’m gonna walk Murphy around the block and then I’ll be in to help. Five minutes.”

“Yeah. I’ll bring the rest of the groceries in as soon as I’m back,” Emmett echoes, for Heather’s sake. “We need to go over a few things. About our project.”

“I’m coming, too!” Cassie declares, tossing the bag of groceries to the grass, and marching toward me.

I school my expression to hide my frustration. If she knew her brother and I were together, would she still insist? Definitely.

“Mom.” Emmett gives Heather a pleading look.

Heather presses her fingertips against her forehead, as if the task of mediating between her kids causes her pain. “Cassie, you’ve been with Aria for the past hour. Let’s give them five minutes to talk about their project.”

Cassie scowls and keeps walking toward me, ignoring her mother’s request.

“Cassandra Jayne Hartford, get in this house now,” Heather demands, her typically serene tone sharp and leaving no room for argument.

Cassie’s face hardens as she whips around and stomps her feet.

“On your way by, please pick up that bag you threw,” Heather calls out, tempering her tone again. I can hear the weariness in it. How exhausting must it be dealing with Cassie’s childish outbursts?

Cassie bends down to grab the bag’s handle and then runs in her off-balanced way up the path, letting the contents of the bag bear the brunt of her anger, smashing against the stair rails as she clomps up the steps, mumbling something at her mother that I can’t decipher but that can’t be good.

Emmett sighs deeply, as if to shake off his frustration with his sister, and then throws a hand in the air. “Hey, Ms. J.”

“Hello, Emmett.” She watches him curiously as he closes the distance toward me.

“Be back in fifteen.” I walk ahead but slow enough for him to catch up.

My mom folds her arms over her chest. “Fifteen now …” But the small, knowing smirk touching her lips tells me she’s not bothered.

“Hey.” He nudges my arm with his.

My heart skitters. I’ve been waiting for this moment all day. “Hey.”

“They still watching?”

Ever so casually, I glance over my shoulder to see Mom’s gaze following us. “Still watching.”

“Have you told her yet?”

“About what? Oh.” That Emmett and I are now a thing. Are we officially a thing? “No.” I’m not sure if I believe it yet. “Does your mom know?”

He shrugs. “She’ll figure it out soon enough. She’ll be happy. She loves you.”

I feel the conflicting swell and tightness in my chest. Would she want her son with me, if she knew everything there was to know? Would she want Cassie as my friend?

“What’s wrong?” Emmett asks.

I swallow my anxiety. I haven’t had a chance to talk to Emmett for more than five seconds since first period. A few passing words in the hall before fifth period. Now’s as good a time as any to fill him in. “I ran into Holly in the bathroom today. She figured out that I’m the one who recorded her conversation. I denied it but I don’t think she believed me.”