“Here.” Aubrey pushed a carton of eggs toward me. “Can you separate the eggs? Four should do it. Put the yolks in one bowl and the whites in another.”
I nodded and got out some small bowls. We worked in silence for a few minutes, me separating and her mixing the dry ingredients. The radio was on, tuned to our favorite pop station, and normally I would have been relaxed and content, there in the warm kitchen with my best friend. But everything felt tainted now, secrets rising up between us like a brick wall.
I could tell her right here. She’ll probably get mad and maybe even hate me—or worse, blame me—but at least she won’t continue to give her heart to a guy who doesn’t deserve it.
“Aubrey,” I said as I handed her the bowl of egg yolks.
“Hmm?”
I watched her as she stood at the stove, whisking the pie filling until it reached the perfect consistency. One dark curl had escaped her ponytail, and she used her wrist to push it off her face. She looked so peaceful, humming along to Beyoncé as she worked. It reminded me of old times, back when our friendship still felt safe and uncomplicated.
“Um . . .” I looked away and grabbed the hand mixer. “You want me to whip these egg whites for the meringue?”
“Sure.” She gave the filling one last stir and glanced at me. “Is something wrong? You’re never this quiet.”
I focused on the eggs, whipping them into frothy peaks. “I’m fine, just . . . tired from the party.”
We finished the pie together and stuck our creation in the oven. While it baked, we tackled the kitchen mess.
“So,” Aubrey said as she peeked in the oven at the pie, checking its progress. “Justin called me this morning.”
I froze in place, heart leaping into my throat. Oh God, he’d told her. He’d told her, and she wanted to wait until I’d helped her with the pie before she stabbed me in the heart with a butcher knife. “Okay,” I said, willing my voice not to shake.
“I didn’t answer it. I was in the shower.” She shut the oven door and turned around, her gaze focused on the floor. “What if he called because he wants to work things out?”
“Is that what you want?” I asked carefully. “I thought you were mad at him.”
Last night during the walk home, she’d told Ethan and me what had happened when she went downstairs to talk to Justin. Minutes before he’d followed me into the garage, he and Aubrey had gotten into another argument about her parents and she’d stormed outside to get away from him. And instead of following her and trying to make things right, he’d followed me and made everything wrong instead.
“Yeah, I’m mad, but . . . this is my fault too, you know. Most of our problems are because of my parents. Which is really stupid, when you think about it.” The timer went off and she turned back around, sliding oven mitts over her hands. “Maybe we just need to try harder to make it work,” she went on as she set the pie on a cooling rack. “No more hiding. My parents will just have to deal with it. I’m sixteen . . . they can’t keep me locked up in a tower like a princess.”
I sat down at the table, my stomach churning like I’d eaten that entire perfect-looking pie in one sitting. If working things out with Aubrey was what Justin had in mind, there was no way I could let that happen. I could no longer ignore the fact that she’d given her heart and trust to a guy who had treated those gifts like they were nothing.
Sometimes I feel like she’s way too good for me, he’d told me in the tree house back in November. He was right—she was.
“Are you sure, Aubrey?”
“Am I sure about what?”
“About Justin,” I said, hesitant. “Do you really want to get back together with him?”
She pulled off the oven mitts and tossed them on the counter, her eyes never leaving mine. “What do you mean?”
I bit at a hangnail on my thumb. “I just think you could do better.”
She continued to stare at me, her forehead scrunched in confusion. “You’re the one who said he’d come around. Remember? You’re the one who said you’d do whatever you could to help us be together.”
My brain was begging me to shut up, but I couldn’t seem to help myself from adding more kindling to the fire. “I know, it’s just . . . maybe you’re not meant to be with him. What if you’re having all these problems for a reason?”
“So you’re only meant to be with someone when it’s easy? When it’s hard, you should just give up?” She shook her head and looked at me like I’d suddenly grown horns. “Do you really believe that?”
I didn’t, usually, but obviously this was a special case. “I don’t want you to get hurt,” I told her. “I want you to be happy.”
“That’s exactly the point, Dara,” she said, her tone sharp. “I’m trying to be happy. For once, I’m thinking about what I want. You don’t like Justin? Fine. You don’t need to. In fact, since you obviously have such a low opinion of him, we’ll make sure to steer clear of you if we decide to get back together. Will that help?”
“I didn’t mean—”
“No, it’s fine. I get it. You think he’s a loser. I’m glad it’s finally out in the open.” She picked up the pie, supporting the bottom with her palm. Even though it was obviously still hot from the oven, she didn’t even flinch. “I think I hear my mom’s car outside. I have to go.”
I stood up, my eyes stinging with tears. “Aubrey, wait.”
She lifted her chin and walked out of the kitchen, pie balanced securely in front of her. I didn’t follow. A few seconds later, the front door slammed shut behind her.
I stood frozen in the middle of the kitchen, wiping my eyes with my sleeve as the radio played upbeat songs that only made me want to cry more. When I could no longer stand it, I shut off the stereo and went to my room, wondering how I’d managed to make things even worse.
twenty-one
Senior Year
I DON’T SEE ETHAN ALL WEEKEND. HE TEXTS ME once on Saturday morning, letting me know there’s no band practice until next week so they can recover from the showcase and catch up on other things. That’s the extent of our contact. I assume he feels conflicted about what happened in the community center hallway, like I still do. Afterward, we’d gone back out and listened to the rest of the bands, both of us acting like nothing happened. But it did happen, and I can’t think about anything else. I spend most of the weekend in my room, alternately reliving the kiss and beating myself up for it. When I imagine Aubrey asking me to look out for her brother in her absence, I doubt this is what she’d have had in mind.
Monday morning, Ethan is waiting for me at my locker. My throat goes dry while the rest of me breaks into a sweat. I have no idea what I’m going to say to him.
“Hey,” he says as I approach. He attempts a smile, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Uh, how are you?”
I concentrate on my combination lock so I don’t have to look at him. Here, in broad daylight, that kiss feels like it happened to other people. People who aren’t us. “I’m fine.”