“Uh, hey,” I said. “Maybe I’m not in the right place. Dave said they wanted Rachel and me to do some talking to the camera stuff?”
“Yeah, they do.” Emma smiled. “When I told Jimmy about you and me, he thought it would be interesting for us to do one together. I guess Mary agreed, so . . .”
“What do you mean, you and me?” I looked over at the cameraman. Jimmy, apparently. “Is he recording?”
“No, that’s just the power light.”
“Well, either way, there’s nothing to talk about.” I turned toward the door. Emma grabbed at my hand. I shook it off. She looked like I’d slapped her. “I’m not trying to be mean, Em, just . . . there’s no us anymore.”
“But why? We were so good until all this happened.”
“You dumped me before this happened.”
“I know, but I was wrong.” Her voice broke a little, and she looked down. When she looked back up, her eyes were liquid with tears. “And then you were getting so much attention, and I didn’t know how to make you want me again, and I got so jealous. All those girls were so much prettier and smarter. And now all the stuff with my dad’s happening and I just . . . I need you, Kyle.”
“Emma, they’re not prettier. That’s not it at all. And it’s not that I don’t like you, but I don’t think we’re really—”
“No, I get it, you don’t have to say it.” Emma gulped noisily. “You don’t think I’m good enough for you anymore. Now that you’re famous.”
Emma buried her face in her hands and started crying.
I walked over and put an arm around her shoulder. I felt bad for her. But that aching need to be the one to make her happy again, like a hook pulling through my guts: gone now. And not just because we were over. I was starting to realize she’d never actually feel better until she worked this stuff out for herself.
She buried her face in my shoulder, shaking softly for a while. Then she turned to look up at me, eyes glistening, tears still caught in her lashes.
“Kyle,” she said, her voice soft. “I miss you so much.”
I didn’t want to lie to her, so I just smiled. Then I felt her arm wrap around my waist . . .
chapter fifty-five
RACHEL
SATURDAY, 10:42 P.M.
Well, it sure as hell wasn’t a professional job, but at least I’d cleared up the smears under my eyes and pinned back a few of the craziest flyaways. It was . . . artfully disheveled?
I honestly couldn’t make myself care. What was it Kyle had said? Other people’s opinions couldn’t change me? He was right. Anyone who wanted to take me down because my hair wasn’t perfect wasn’t someone whose opinion I needed.
I strode around the outside of the cafeteria, staying on the outer perimeter so I couldn’t get caught up in the dance craziness. Ms. Laurila’s room was on the hall that snaked out from the vending machine nook. Light from the doorway spilled out into the dim, empty hallway like a beacon in a nighttime sea of flat green lockers and ghostly reflections on tiled walls.
I stopped a couple of feet from the door, baring my teeth for the glass. I’d been in such a rush I hadn’t even checked to make sure they were lipstick free—that would be kind of embarrassing—then took a step forward to open it up.
Then I froze.
He was in there with her.
And his arm was around her.
And now she was gazing up at his face with a look made for some romance novel cover, saying something to him, and he wasn’t pulling away . . .
. . . and they were kissing.
I ran away down the hall.
I didn’t need to see more. But I really needed for the camera not to see me.
chapter fifty-six
KYLE
SATURDAY, 10:44 P.M.
I pulled away, jerking up off the desk.
“Emma, what the hell?” I wiped at my mouth. Emma frowned.
“Don’t you see, Kyle? We’re supposed to be together.”
“I told you, this is over. We’re over.”
“Why? Because of Rach-el?” She singsonged the name viciously. “Come on.”
“You don’t even know her.”
“Neither do you.” She laughed tightly, a too-high tinkling of bells. “Do you honestly think she’s into you? The big man on campus jock?”
I frowned. Saying yes somehow seemed dense.
“Kyle, think about it. She’s in this for the same reason you are. For that.” She pointed at the camera. “For the attention. For the chance to be on TV. For everyone on the internet telling her how awesome she is. I mean, come on, three weeks ago she was social kryptonite. And now she’s everyone’s favorite person? Who wouldn’t take that deal? I don’t even blame her.”
“That’s not true.” It didn’t even make sense; Rachel actively disliked everyone knowing her.
“Textbook Kyle. The nice guy to the end.”
I should have been mad, but suddenly I just felt sad. It didn’t have to go this way.
“I just don’t believe you. You’re bitter, and you’re getting mean, but—”