Paisley huffed as we wandered together back into the atrium. Organ music still trickled in from the sanctuary. Pastor Long stood at the main doors, shaking hands with families as they hurried out to catch their eleven o’clock brunch reservations.
I could tell Paisley wasn’t actually mad. That was the thing about the two of us—we could never stay mad at each other. Especially because our popularity multiplied when we came in a pair. We both knew it. Blond and brunette. Pick your flavor. Or your poison.
“Okay,” she continued. “So then what had you so occupied that you needed to subject me to another night of watching the Billys play Xbox in William’s basement?” She idly strolled over to a nearby snack table and took a store-packaged cherry Danish from the tray.
“Liam,” I replied without thinking. It was the first thing that popped into my head. That was what I remembered from last night. Liam. I was certain of it.
Paisley stopped before she could take a bite. “Liam?” She lowered the pastry. “So much for that long-winded speech you gave about swearing off boys. How long did that last? One month? Two, tops. That has to be some kind of record for you, Cass.”
I remembered the speech in question. It was only days after Paisley, Ava, Ashley, Erica, and I had visited Dearborn for our big girls’ night out. We were at our usual table in the cafeteria and Ava had asked who I thought would invite me to prom this year. When I’d insisted I wasn’t going and that, even more shockingly, I was giving up boys altogether—like they were carbs or something—my friends had been ready to declare my depression clinical.
Maybe they’d been right.
“It’s not like that,” I said, trying not to stare at the jam-filled Danish.
When Paisley took a bite, some of the frosting flaked off and I fought the urge to lunge after it. I’d already gorged myself on pancakes this weekend, so church pastries weren’t on the agenda. Not when I’d decided that I wasn’t ready to return to chubby mathlete obscurity quite yet after all. Not when I’d just reminded myself of all I had to lose. Not when Sunshine had reminded me, that was. Girls did not claw their way to the top for nothing. That was important for me to remember.
Paisley followed my eyes, smirked, and took another monster bite. “It’s Liam Buckley,” she mumbled, mouth full. “If it’s not like that, you’re doing it wrong. Trust me.”
I chewed on my lip, debating how much to tell her. Would Liam let anyone in on our little secret? Were other people using Sunshine, too, and I never knew? Part of me wanted to tell her. For better or worse—let’s face it, many times it was for worse—Paisley was my best friend. But did that mean she had to know every little thing about me?
She didn’t know about Dearborn or the boys or the aches that followed in my body and in my heart.
Paisley had been my best friend for years, but when I thought about the barbs in her tongue, the ones that could poke me and call me a slut with a laugh and an oh you know it’s true smile, I wanted to recoil as though from a hot stove.
The more I thought about it, the more I saw that Sunshine worked like a really great tube of concealer. It matched my skin tone perfectly and nobody, not even Paisley, needed to know that I had a pimple.
“We just met up at the park and played a little basketball.” I shrugged. “No biggie.”
Paisley polished off the rest of the Danish and licked her fingers. She’d never had the same tendency toward chubby stomach rolls that I had. “Okay, so you’re taking it slow. That’s good, I guess. Different for you, though.”
I rolled my eyes. “We’re not taking it anywhere.”
Her eyes widened. “Is he gay?”
“I don’t know, Paize, and I didn’t ask because I don’t care.” By now the Sunshine was flowing through my veins like liquid gold. I gave an easy smile. One that had the old Cassidy written all over it. “Stop being so uptight.” I pinched her cheek like an overzealous great-aunt. Then, in my altered state, a thought seized me. “Hey, do you want to go for a run this afternoon? It’s really beautiful out.” Sun poured through the glass doors. Outside, churchgoers were shucking off their cardigans and enjoying the weather.
“Did an alien abduct you? Or … oh, I know, are you doing one of those Gwyneth Paltrow juice fasts because I’ve been debating trying the master cleanse, but wasn’t sure…”
I kept my gaze trained outside, staring at the fresh air and the rustling leaves and the flowers, all brushed with a spring glow. “Truth?” I cut her off.
Paisley gave a light, frustrated stomp of her foot. “Truth. Yeah, of course. Always.”
“It was, just, I don’t know, getting kind of exhausting being sad all the time.”