#famous(45)

“Not your fault?”

“About you losing an eye.”

I laughed.

“Anyway, talk to you soon.” Rachel frowned and stared at her feet, suddenly awkward. “Or, you know, later. Whenever.”

“Don’t sound too excited, there.”

“Not sure if you noticed, Kyle, but your friends aren’t really fans of mine.”

“Yeah, well, Jessie’s not my friend.”

Rachel barely smiled, like a secret, and ran down a couple stairs, stopping at the landing to look up at me.

“Either way, thank you. I’m too young to go to jail for murder.” She ran down the rest of the stairs before I could come up with anything funny to say in response.

I headed down after her. Ollie was in the kitchen, watching a couple guys from the team play quarters along the breakfast bar.

“Rachel just ran by if you were looking for her,” he said, not looking at me.

“No, we talked.”

“She looked like she was leaving.”

“Yeah, well, Jessie reamed her out. I think she’d kind of had enough.”

Ollie nodded, unsurprised.

“What, like you knew it was gonna happen?”

“Well, maybe not with Jessie specifically, but c’mon. Girls are crappy to each other. Someone was gonna get too drunk and lay into her.”

I didn’t know how to respond. He said it so matter-of-factly, it felt like I should have seen it coming too.

“What did you expect? You’ve seen what they’ve been saying about her online.”

“I mean, I saw Jessie post that picture. But that died down pretty fast.”

“Dude? I know you’ve been busy, but you’re getting dangerously close to tool.”

“What? I’m nowhere near caught up with my own notifications. Why would I look at hers?”

“Because I’m telling you that you need to.”

I tried to think of something to say, but I had nothing. Probably because I had the sneaking suspicion Ollie was right.

“I’m gonna head,” I said finally. Nothing about this party felt fun anymore.

“Always smart to get out before Lamont gets belligerent. You good to drive?”

“Yeah.”

“Cool. Talk to you tomorrow.” He turned back to the game.

I waited until I was home in bed to open Flit and search her handle.

There were thousands of mentions from the last couple of days. The most recent were mainly reflits and luvs, but it didn’t take long before they turned nasty. Complete strangers called her a “disgusting slut.” Someone said girls like her were “the reason we have anorexia.” A couple: basically, like, death threats.

Holy crap.

I swallowed hard. My throat felt too tight. Why were people being like this to her? She still hadn’t posted anything since the picture, so there was no answer there. No wonder she’d been so desperate to leave the party. I couldn’t believe she’d agreed to do the show. Oof.

Wait. Had she? Or did I just kind of assume that was happening?

Crap, crap, crap.

Why hadn’t it even crossed my mind that she might have wanted to say no? Just because my mom was ready for me to milk this for everything it was worth didn’t mean Rachel was on board.

But she would have said something, right?

At the party? To Jessie?

Quadruple crap. I was a total jerk. And to Rachel of all people, this weird, funny girl who so clearly didn’t play mean-girl games.

I scrolled through my phonebook until I found her.

(To Rachel): I just wanted to say I’m sorry



(From Rachel): What for?



She texted back almost right away. I wondered if she was lying in her bed too. The idea was kind of nice. Both of us in the dark, alone with each other. I wondered what her room was like. I looked around mine, lit only by the glowing phone screen. There were lacrosse posters, some trophies, my games, and a big-screen in the corner. It could have been anyone’s room. Anyone who played lacrosse, at least. I bet hers was different. Maybe with whole scenes painted on the walls instead of just a color. Or poems written on the mirror in eyeliner. I bet Rachel’s room screamed Rachel. I sighed. What would even scream Kyle? Kyle Bonham: just some kid who apparently plays lacrosse. I shook the thought out of my head. I must be getting weird and emo because of the night I’d just had.

(To Rachel): For tonight



(From Rachel): None of that was your fault.



(To Rachel): Yeah, but I should have made sure we at least got to talk before all that BS happened.



I threw in a pouting emoji, a liquor bottle, and an explosion, so it wouldn’t sound too serious. I didn’t want to make it more awkward than it already was.

(From Rachel): Seriously not your fault.



(To Rachel): And you’re okay with doing the show? It’s fine if you’re not you know



* * *





There was no way to unawkward that one. It took her a minute or so to respond.

(From Rachel): Of course I am. I can’t wait to, if only to see the look on Jessie’s face.



(To Rachel): What look? I thought you guys were BFFLs



* * *