I spun around on the bed so I could see into the cupcake box. There were three double-fudges. If I had still been a little mad at Monique when she’d texted that she was outside my door, I definitely wasn’t anymore. I grabbed the nearest one and took a big bite, then rolled back onto my stomach, continuing to fortify myself with chocolate and gooey-thick frosting.
“Okay,” I said again, “so I won’t totally delete my accounts and attempt to melt into the earth and cut out a big red letter P to wear on my chest every time I leave the house.”
“It was an A,” Monique said automatically. Trust Monique to correct me on school stuff at the moment she’s trying to repair our friendship with cupcakes and moral support.
“I know, but I’m not an adulteress, I’m pathetic.”
“Rachel, how many times have I—”
“No, no, I get it.” I raised my cupcake-free hand to stop her. “I’m just saying if I had a shame badge, that would be the one. Let’s say it stands for photographer, will that make you feel better? Pathetic, puppy dog, pitiful photographer. Either way, I’m not planning on actually wearing it.”
Monique smirked, but she kept her mouth shut.
“But just because I’m not going to pull a total disappearing act doesn’t mean I’m ready to become everybody’s favorite hate-follow. That’s too much.”
“Okay,” Monique said tightly, dipping her pointer into her cream cheese icing and circling it around until it looked like her finger was wearing an old-lady wig. She sucked on it thoughtfully, staring at me. “I still think we could figure out something that gets you attention that isn’t a hate-follow. But fine. What’s your plan?”
“No more picture game, for one. Especially since I’m apparently so good at it that the world can’t help but get on board.”
Monique reddened slightly, nodding once.
“In fact, I’m going radio silent until this fully blows over.”
Monique pulled her finger out of her mouth with a small, wet pop. “It’ll happen sooner than you think. Today was as much blowback as you’re gonna get, I bet.”
“Great, then you can expect amazing GIFs of squirrels acting out romance novel covers as soon as next week.”
“You’re so weird, Rachel.”
She rolled her eyes at me. It made me feel a tiny bit better. Like things were inching back toward normal.
We ate our cupcakes in silence for a few seconds. Eventually, Monique couldn’t help herself anymore.
“But you’re gonna keep an eye on it, right?”
“On what?” I knew what.
“On his profile, Rachel.”
“Why would I?”
“Oh come on. You’ve been swooning over this guy for how long now? How can you not?” Monique smirked knowingly.
“Yeah, but why would I want to be reminded of the fact that I will never, ever have a chance with him? I mean, I didn’t have a chance with him when he was the pretty-cool senior at Apple Prairie. Now that he has what, three hundred thousand followers?”
“Five, last I checked.”
“Okay, five hundred thousand. That just makes my point more valid. Now he’s all the things he was before, plus famous . . . ish. For being hot. You come on.”
“Yeah, but you’re curious.”
I didn’t respond. It had been a few hours since I’d looked at Kyle’s page, but only through sheer force of will. Maybe that’s why I had none left over to resist cupcakes.
“Besides, have you seen his flits? The boy isn’t Shakespeare.” Monique snorted. “Maybe seeing all the brilliant musings of Kyle Bonham’s brain will be the cure you need.”
“They are pretty ridiculous, aren’t they?”
“My aunt flits more interesting stuff than that,” Monique said. “‘It’s great to feel great, isn’t it, guys? Today’s awesome! Go sports!’”
I giggled in spite of myself.
I grabbed my phone and pretended I was clicking through to his page so Monique wouldn’t know it was already up. It was the last one I’d looked at.
“So?”
I scrolled down to see what he’d been doing.
“Mostly it’s a lot of ‘Thanks, so-and-so.’ People must be telling him how gorgeous he is or whatever.”
“Nothing good, then?”
“Yeah it’s all . . . wait. He just flitted, but . . . Jesus, that can’t be for real.” I refreshed the page. Maybe it was a mistake. Or was he flitting his how-this-pans-out wish list? My mouth felt like someone had shop-vac’d out every little bit of moisture. I tried to swallow.
“What?”
“Look for yourself.”
Monique walked over to stand at my shoulder, leaning down until she could see the phone in my hand.
Suddenly, she sat down on the bed, like a puppet whose strings had been cut.
“I think we might have to revise our estimate of when this is going to blow over,” Monique said.
chapter fourteen
KYLE
WEDNESDAY, 3:55 P.M.
When I walked through the door, Mom was waiting at the kitchen table, legs crossed in one of her pantsuits. The floaty feeling I’d had the entire ride home hit the ground fast. Her jaw was set so tight I could see muscles quivering. Mom: total buzzkill.
“Where have you been? I called Jim, I know you don’t work today.”
“Settle.” I threw my backpack on the chair nearest the back door. “I stayed after to talk to Se?ora, but it was only for, like, ten minutes.”
“You could have called.”