That had been what finally did it. I guess Becca viewed that as my third strike, and I was out. She gave up on me, and Isabel followed suit.
“I was having a panic attack,” I told her now. “Like at the PSAT. I didn’t want you guys to know. I didn’t want to ruin the party. But I should have told you. I’m a horrible person who lied to my friends, and now you know every last one of my secrets. Okay? So now tell me yours.”
She stared at me for a minute. I’d said something she hadn’t expected. “Fine,” she said.
“Fine,” I said.
“It’s a long story.”
“I’ve got time.”
She let out a deep breath, and then she was ready to talk. “I’ve been getting these text messages . . .”
“From a blocked sender,” I said.
“You know about that too?” She sounded genuinely surprised. At this point I wasn’t.
“We’re all in the same boat,” I said.
“Are you going to tell me who this we is you keep talking about?”
“We’ll get to it. What does Blocked Sender have on you?”
“That’s none of your business,” she said.
“It is now,” I said.
“I don’t think so. Why should I trust you? How do I know you’re not behind this?”
“How do I know you aren’t?” I hadn’t really thought so before, but the Justin connection gave me pause, and hearing her talk about how mad she’d been at me wasn’t helping.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” she said.
“Look, I know you’re still angry, but you don’t seriously think I would do this, do you?”
“I don’t know. I don’t exactly know what’s going on with you these days. You obviously have secrets, or you wouldn’t be in this mess.”
“I could say the same thing about you,” I said. “I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours.”
“Fine.” She sat back in her chair and crossed one leg over the other. “You first.”
So I told her everything. About the stress, the panic attacks, the Novalert, the pictures. Everything except the people. There would be time for that, but not yet.
“The panic attacks didn’t go away, then.”
“Nope.”
“You should have told me. You weren’t the only one under stress, you know.” She uncrossed her legs and leaned forward. “The theater stuff is hard, and there’s so much to do and so little time, and so much competition for the drama programs in college. I’ve had audition after audition and it’s just exhausting.”
I thought about my competition with Julia, and how hard I had to work just to get into the schools I wanted. Maybe Isabel was going through the same thing. It had never occurred to me.
“At first it was just a couple of bumps at a party,” Isabel said. “The drama kids were always all about coke, and it was no big deal. But the energy rush was amazing, so finally I just got some for myself and started doing it before shows. Not a lot; just enough to get me going. And then it played out pretty much like it did with you—a photo of me backstage, damaging enough to make me want it to go away.”
“But it didn’t go away.”
“Hasn’t yet,” she said. “But this all just started.”
“What are you supposed to do with the pills?”
“I don’t know yet. I’m waiting for—”
“Further instructions,” I said.
She nodded.
20.
Isabel and I sat together quietly for a while, something we’d never done back when we were friends. We’d never spent a lot of time one-on-one, really; Becca always served as the filter between us. Our friendship had been almost completely dependent on her. I’d always thought being a trio was like being part of a triangle, but now I realized that the three of us had been more like one of those playground seesaws, Becca sitting in the middle while Isabel and I took turns moving up and down, vying for her attention.
Although she probably thought it was more like tug-of-war, and she was the rope.
“What do we do?” Isabel asked. I’d never heard her sound so uncertain.
“We have to make it stop,” I said. “Will you come talk to the others with me? I’m supposed to meet up with them after I’ve talked to you.”
“I don’t like the idea of other people knowing about what happened,” she said.
“I won’t tell them. If you decide you want to, that will be up to you. There’s one other person who’s been kind of closemouthed about everything, so you’re not alone.”
“Okay, then. Where are you meeting them?”
“Good question.” I got out my phone and texted Alex. Done here. Isabel’s in. Make Justin come. Where are we meeting?
Alex texted back right away—she must have been waiting for me. We’re at Amerigo’s.
“Pizza,” I said. “Want to ride with me?”
“I’ll meet you there.”
“You’ll really come? Do you want my number, just in case?”
“I never deleted you from my phone,” she said.
I’d never deleted her, either.