#famous(64)

I left my phone out the entire drive home, the whole time Monique and I sat on the couch together watching me twirl in dresses—why had I been so embarrassed about this? It didn’t matter at all. I even left it on in my lap through dinner, clicking it to life occasionally, not even caring if my parents noticed.

He didn’t text back.





chapter forty-four


KYLE

WEDNESDAY, 3:40 P.M.

I pulled out my phone to stare at the text again.

(From Emma): My dad just told me he’s marrying Lindsay NEXT MONTH, and he wants me to be her fricking maid of honor. Can I come over after school? I need to be around someone sane.



I’d written out the “no” text a dozen different ways at lunch. I spent most of fifth hour trying to figure out how to make “I have plans” sound true. Even though it was, it looked like I was just trying to avoid her. Emma had said, in so many words, that she needed somebody now. Today. And she wasn’t the kind of person who had an easy time asking for that stuff. How could I say no when she was so clearly in a bad place? Wouldn’t that just be cruel?

But I tapped out “I have a thing tonight, what about tomorrow?” half hating myself, half relieved to not have to take on Emma’s problem. I didn’t want to let her down, but I didn’t want to be with her anymore, either. Wouldn’t it be confusing to do all the boyfriend legwork if I didn’t want the position?

Still, I felt like a piece of warmed-over crap all through sixth hour. Even Se?ora commented that I looked “muy irritado.”

I had to push it out of my mind. Rachel would be here any minute, and I didn’t want to be a drag, especially when this was almost like a first date. Or a second date? Was this a date? I could feel myself starting to smile, almost like a reflex. It reminded me, I needed to focus on Rachel now. She’d be able to tell if I was still turning this thing over in my head, and it might hurt her feelings. That was the last thing I wanted.

I threw my backpack in the front hall, then set the DVR to record the episode of Laura, in case we got busy doing . . . other things.

I’d barely managed to grab a Sprite out of the fridge when the doorbell rang. My stomach flipped. I had been so worried about Emma I’d forgotten how excited I was to see Rachel again. And how nervous. She better not have realized she wasn’t into doofy lacrosse players in the last twenty-four hours. . . .

I padded down the hallway to let her in, focusing on keeping my face calm. Be cool, Bonham. Channel Carter. I pulled open the door.

“Hey . . .”

But it wasn’t Rachel.

It was Emma.

This wasn’t right.

No, no, no, this absolutely could not happen.

“Hey, Kyle.” She looked up at me, eyes wide and lower lip trembling slightly, then quickly looked away, into the corner, almost like she was embarrassed, or scared. I forced my jaw closed.

“Hey, Emma,” I started, searching for words. How could I get her out of here? Like, now? “Sorry I had to bail on tonight, but I have a thing later . . . with Ollie.” The lie tasted bad on my tongue, but I forced myself not to make a face. She smiled sadly.

“Totally, I’m sorry, I just was driving by, and I saw your car in the driveway, and I couldn’t help it. I’m so . . .” She frowned deeply, shaking her head like she was embarrassed of herself. “I don’t want to keep you, I’ll just . . . go.” Her voice broke a little.

“No, it’s okay,” I said automatically. Flipping idiot, what is wrong with you? But I could see the tears in her eyes. “I’ll text to let him know I’ll be late.”

“Oh, thanks, Kyle,” Emma said, voice almost embarrassingly grateful. I forced a smile. She needed me more than Rachel did right now, that much was obvious. And they couldn’t run into each other, not when Emma was like this. It would be Anderson’s party all over again. Besides, Rachel would be fine, of course she would. Rachel was so sure of herself, she probably wouldn’t even care. Emma was the one who needed people to prop her up. The fact that she came over when things were so weird between us, even after I’d said no, just showed how bad this must have been for her. Not that I could blame her. I wouldn’t have wanted to go through this with Jessie Florenzano either.

There was no reason Rachel even had to know that Emma was the reason I was rain-checking.

That thought made me feel even dirtier, so I typed out the text as quickly as possible, hit send, and dropped the phone into my pocket before I could be tempted to wait on her response.

Emma walked down the hall to the kitchen, perching on one of the stools at the breakfast bar.

“You want something to drink?” I headed over to the fridge. If this was happening, I might as well try to be nice.

“Sure, do you have a—”

I put a Diet Coke in front of her, grinning a little. She smiled back.

“Thanks.”

“So, uh . . .” It was weird to feel this awkward around Emma. She was still Emma, obviously, the same girl I’d gone to dances with, and made out with in her musty-smelling basement, and whispered secrets to, lying in the backyard at Erin Rothstein’s house, staring at the stars. But something had changed. I didn’t know what to say to her. I didn’t know how to be . . . normal. “Your dad, huh?”

“Yeah.” She smiled bitterly. “I knew this was coming, but I guess I thought he’d give me a longer engagement to get used to the idea. They started dating what, like, a year ago? It would be like you and me getting married.”