Audra’s lips pressed together. She fiddled with one of her ridiculous diamond studs.
“I’ve had real-life creeps stalking me because of all of this, Audra. Every organization I’m a part of dropped me from their contacts. All the parents I babysit for think I’m a tramp.” My anger was full-on back. “Ailey submitted my college apps, Audra, and you knew.”
“This isn’t about her!”
Ailey pounded a fist on the table. I’d never seen her look so furious. Not when Coach DiPietro suspended her from a swim meet in the sixth grade because she was too competitive. Not when Moon Li called her hair a gutter weave in eighth grade. Both those times Ailey was angry. Now, she looked…crazed.
“Audra knew I was AnyLies because I told her. I told her how satisfying it was to watch you get your comeuppance. I didn’t do this so I could buy a car. I did it to completely humiliate you. Guess I’m not the only one who doesn’t change her passwords. Hiii, Harvard.”
“You ruined my life because I too abruptly stopped being your friend years ago?”
Ailey gave a tiny laugh. Tears welled in her eyes. Her voice quavered, finally carrying some emotion in it. I’d never wanted to hurt someone so much in my entire life.
“I did it,” Ailey snapped, “so you could see how it feels. Knowing that the people you thought loved you best—Mac, Fawn, Sharma, your brother, Audra—aren’t at all who you think they are. Or did you all just ‘grow apart’ this past week?” Ailey snorted. “We ‘grew apart,’ Kyle? You ‘too abruptly’ stopped being my friend? We were best friends for nine years—nine years—and do you know after Audra came up to you in the cafeteria freshman year, you never called me, not even once, ever again?”
Audra gasped, like this was the most shocking fact of today.
“That can’t be true,” I said.
“Trust me,” Ailey laughed tearfully, “it is. At first, I figured once the girls knew you, and once you were settled with them, you’d, I-D-K, pull me along. It wasn’t so that I could become popular. I could give two swipes about being popular. It felt like my Doc crashed. We spent every click of our time together for nine years, and then you suddenly stepped away. It was like you died, but worse, because I could still see you. Or maybe it was like I died, because I could see you, but you didn’t see me anymore.
“Who do you confide in”—Ailey was sobbing now—“when the person you told everything to won’t answer your calls? You used to come over to my house two or three times a day. Whenever you were upset or bored or you just wanted to raid the cupboards, I was there for you. After Audra, you’d pass me in the halls and not even say hi. I knew you weren’t doing it to be mean, but I wished you were. At least then I’d have known I did something to make this happen. Or that I at least mattered enough for you to despise me.
“I didn’t have a few lonely months, Kyle. When you dropped me, my life dropped. They put me on antidepressants.”
Ailey shook her head, fought for a smile, sobbed in her breath. Audra tentatively rubbed Ailey’s arms, as if she was trying to warm her up. Audra wouldn’t look at me. But Ailey couldn’t stop.
“Thanks, pookie,” Ailey hiccupped. “I’m okay.”
I should have listened to my mom. Her experience was from Ailey’s perspective. Only someone I’d irreparably damaged could have wanted to ruin me so badly. None of what Ailey was saying I’d done had been intentional, but that didn’t mean I was innocent. Audra was right. I did deserve this—all of it.
“It doesn’t matter,” Ailey continued. “I’m better now. Because then Ellie came along the end of freshman year and saved me. Unlike you, Ellie is a good, loyal friend. She told me how sweet I was, how much fun she had with me, how indispensable I was. I mean, she slapped you for me.
“And then she and Jessie met in some troubled-teens therapy group, and suddenly Jessie ‘got’ Ellie the way no one else did, and suddenly Jessie was Ellie’s top contact. And Ailey wasn’t good enough again. At least I can rationalize you dumping me for the girls, but Jessie is awful. I don’t know why Ellie can’t see it. I mean, if I don’t equal better than Jessie Rosenthal…”
Ailey wiped her nose on one of the Parents’ fancy napkins. She immediately apologized.
“So when I stumbled across that vid on the faculty wall—I was doing research for a piece I was making on Ms. Valtri, FYI—I didn’t know it was fake. I just knew you needed it exposed. I was going to take it down that very afternoon. But then not only did you come to my house—to blame me—but when I invited you to dinner, you looked so disgusted by the mere thought of sitting down to a meal with us…and then later that night when I txted, offering help, you blocked me. And I knew you hadn’t learned your lesson.
“AnyLiesUnmade was perfect. It was all a lie, your whole life. I almost posted the flash mob under AnyLies, but then I saw the two-birds-with-one-stone beauty of it all. Maybe Jessie didn’t post those vids about you, but I mean, hello, who spends their time making stalky ‘human projects’? With a little help from me, Ellie would have to see what a nightmare Jessie was.
“Except it didn’t work. Ellie hated that flash mob in the hall, all right. She and Jessie had a huge fight about it. Ellie voice called me, sobbing about it. But they made up, like, one click later. And I knew all-caps-to-period FRIENDSHIP IS THE BIGGEST LIE OF ALL. No one actually cares about their friends; they just care about how their friends make them feel, what their friends can do for them. I mean, you’re the perfect example, Kyle. You want to change the world, but you don’t give two craps about the people trying to survive in it.”
I looked to Audra for help. She was biting her thumbnail, trying not to cry.
“I don’t know what to say,” I said. “You’re wrong, Ailes. I did care. I still do.”
“No, I cared.” She sniffled a laugh. “I cared enough to hate you.”
This wasn’t supposed to be how it turned out. I was supposed to feel victorious. This was supposed to be my win. Instead I felt dirtier than the first time I watched the Mr. E. video. I was too dumbfounded to offer any kind of rebuttal or apology. I just wanted to get out. Out from under Ailey’s glare, out of this house, out of my own skin.
Without any fanfare or celebration, I held my finger down on the Mr. E. video file on Ailey’s Doc. On the wallpaper screen we all watched as the file quivered for a click and then disappeared when I selected delete. I quick checked my G-File. It was still a mess of links and nasty comments, but now they led to an error message—Content Deleted. The video was gone. I’d deleted it from Ailey’s Doc. I’d won.
I’d never in my life felt more miserable.
“Sorry. I’m just gonna go.”