I chucked my Doc onto a chair across the room. Mac was the best person I knew. And I refused to go out with him. Audra came over to talk to my mom, apparently proving that my mother and my best friend had a better relationship than I had with either one. Before the video, I’d have said I had a few problems with a few people. Now all signs pointed to the fact that I was the problem.
“You gonna be okay, Kylie?”
“No worse off than I was before.” My voice caught. “I know I didn’t turn out like you guys were expecting. I’m sorry if I’ve been a disappointment.”
Dad didn’t pretend not to know what I was talking about.
“You’re not a disappointment; you’re a teenager. Mom knows that too. You two will find your level ground eventually. That’s the cool thing about family. We might have our ups and downs, but we’re kinda stuck together. There’s no question we love you, right?”
He nudged me.
“Sure,” I said.
I put my head on his shoulder. He put his arm around me. Not knowing what else to do, he clicked play on the hub. On-screen, a flying squirrel decapitated a blobby demon. Blood splattered everywhere. We laughed.
moi My dad just told me my mom loves me because she’s stuck with me.
Normally, I’d have sent the txt to Audra. I’d have whined about the latest turn in the Kyle-Mac saga. I’d have apologized for how weirdly we left dinner. But I just couldn’t get my fingers to cooperate with my brain.
When AnyLies instantly responded, I found myself feeling happy. Which was admittedly weird. But lately every time I txted Audra, her avatar was red. Instant txt replies felt so refreshing.
Why are you telling me this?
Because after our conversation tonight, I thought it best that I give Mac a little Doc space for the evening. And because what Dad had said had got me thinking. When you were stuck with someone, you had to come to terms with them, no?
moi I dunno where or when, but I think we got off on the wrong foot. So, hi! My name’s Kyla Cheng. My friends call me Kyle.
What are you doing???
If there was no way to technically take down the video—a fact I still didn’t accept—then this was my only play. Still, I hesitated. Fostering a relationship with my hater was clearly a bad idea. Yet worse things kept piling up. In the time between my bike ride to Mac’s house and my return home, two more families had canceled upcoming babysitting dates. And in the time it took to say good night to Dad and go to my room, I assumed that the file sweep programs caught on that the video had attached itself to all my volunteer organizations, because my G-File no longer said I volunteered for We Shelter, We Care, or the half dozen other organizations I belonged to, including Senator Cooper’s office. Additionally, all the photos I’d been tagged in at those places had been Pulled.
Even if colleges looked past my unfinished apps, now my profile contained nothing except the Mr. E. video and a collection of assorted family and friend tags.
I literally had nothing else to lose.
moi I’m doing the impossible. I’m going to convince you not to hate me.
The next morning, I groaned when my alarm went off. Nothing about my life made me want to get out of bed. It was Christmas Eve. In normal, non–devastated-city years, I would be sound asleep right now thanks to Park Prep Senior Perks. Instead I had a half day of school to get through and only eight more days until my college applications were due. Or, at least, were supposed to be due. I was pulling my pillow back over my head when there was a kick on my door.
“Wallowing under a blanket of woe is me,” I called out.
Three pink-clad bodies tumbled into my bedroom.
“Well, throw it off.” Audra frowned. “We brought enormous coffees.”
Telling by the circles under her eyes and the tiny cowlick of white-blond hair that was poking up at the back of her head, she clearly hadn’t had enough of hers. But it was early. This was the time we all normally woke up. Instead she was at my bedside in full makeup.
“And egg sammy bagels,” Fawn said as Sharma tossed me a greasy brown bag. “Organic ones from the new place on Bergen.”
“And an apology,” Sharma said.
“AnyLiesUnmade?” Fawn cried. “And a stalker outside your house?”
“I still can’t believe you were on the huge Eden screen.” Audra laughed. “Why didn’t you tell me yesterday in the Elite, you stinker? Or at dinner? I mean, there were a few seconds when I wasn’t being a self-righteous betch.”
“Wait. How do you guys know about all this?”
Answer: Mac. Apparently, he’d txted Audra last night, reamed her out, and updated her on everything. So what they had to say was that they now (finally) believed it wasn’t me in the video. If for no other reason than I would never prematurely send off my college applications.
“And we’re so super-sorry we didn’t believe you from the start,” Fawn added.
“Though, for the record, it is an excellent editing job,” Audra finished.
Cue Audra falling onto my bed and tickling me in the ribs. Fawn pulling out her gross hanky to mop up her tears. Sharma looking like God creating Earth as she flicked between the seven holoscreens orbiting her Doc to show me all the videos I’d missed. And yes, part of me wanted to tell them they were too late. That I’d been handling things perfectly fine by myself, and that I’d continue handling them by myself. But then my Doc dinged with a message from a Will at Rise High Entertainment, congratulating me on my notoriety and asking if I was repped by anyone yet.
Who was I kidding? I’d take just about any support the girls offered. So, silencing my Doc, I said, “Seriously? Pink?”
“I know,” Fawn pouted. “I lobbied hard for red and green. I mean, it’s Christmas Eve.”
Sharma made a gag me face. “Still my week. So yes, pink. Innocent yet in-your-face.”
These weren’t accents of pink with hair clips and shoes. These equaled the-most-ridiculous-outfits-in-your-closet’s-arsenal pink. Sharma was wearing a pink sari that her mom must have lent her. Fawn was in tight hot-pink jeans and a flouncy pink blouse. Audra was in a full-on tutu, wearing pink ankle booties that were on all the fashion sites’ holiday wish lists. When InStitches had first suggested them to me, the comment I left was: For five hundred bucks you should at least get the whole boot.
“I guess half a boot is good enough.” I nodded at her shoes.
“Ever heard of a splurge, betch? You’re just mad they’re a size six.”
“Truth,” I laughed. “You guys look like regurgitated Pepto-Bismol.”
“It gets better.” Audra brightened as she undid the top two buttons on her blouse.
Across her chest, in bright pink lipstick, was the word BRAT.
Fawn undid her blouse the same way. Across her chest it said SLUT.
Sharma’s said NERD.