Emergency Contact(76)

Just then Penny’s phone pinged in Jude’s hand.

“Penny, you have to change your ringtone,” said Mallory. “I have, like, PTSD from Apex. It’s been my alarm all year. What psychopath uses Apex as their ringtone? It’s such an alarm.”

“What?” said Penny, reaching for her phone. “No way. Apex is way too quiet for that.”

Apex kept going off in Jude’s hands.

Jude’s face was lit up. Then she held the phone out so the other girls could see.

Penny snatched the phone, but the damage had been done.

She’d seen.

Jude knew.

SAM HOUSE

Today 9:11 PM

Yoyoyoyoyoyoyoyooyoyoyyoyoyoyo Come by

I baked a SHEETCAKE

Your favorite

Confetti emoji


He’d written out “confetti emoji” since he was trying to quit using emoji because he thought they were “emotionally lazy.”

“Uh,” said Mallory quietly. “What psycho sets their texts to preview mode?”

Penny grabbed her phone and shoved it into her pocket, plunging the girls into darkness.

Penny weighed her options.

Available means to ejector seat from crippling social trauma: 1. Jump into the car, lock the doors, race home, transfer schools before they return.

2. Lie her lying face off.

3. Just tell them everything. It was a simple (very long) misunderstanding.


Penny wondered if this canceled everything out, if them seeing the texts meant they weren’t friends anymore. Penny felt like her throat was closing. There was no escape. She felt nauseous. The waves thundered in her ears.

“Jude,” she said quietly. It was barely audible above the din. Penny wished she could sit down. Her heart was racing. “I’m sorry.”

“Wait,” said Jude. “Sam House, that’s Uncle Sam, right?”

Penny nodded.

There were rapid-fire questions of increasing volume.

“Uncle Sam is your secret Internet boyfriend?”

“No! Not exactly.”

“Are you guys dating?”

“We’re just friends.”

“Well, then, why wouldn’t you say something?”

Penny couldn’t tell her that Sam didn’t want her to. It would only make things worse.

“Were you hanging out this whole time while he was avoiding me?”

“No. We just text. We don’t hang out. . . . Okay, we’ve hung out once. Twice, technically . . .”

“Jesus, Penny,” Jude said. “He’s the guy, right? The guy you’re into?”

Silence.

And from Mallory:

“Why sheet cake though?”

“I told him it was my favorite. . . .”

For some reason the cake part seemed to piss Jude off the most. Mallory stood beside her with her arms crossed. Strangely, Mallory seemed more perplexed than mad, though there was no question whose side she was on.

“I’m sorry,” said Penny. She meant it.

They rode home in silence. This time Penny didn’t feel sleepy at all.





SAM.


11:02 PM

Where’d you go?

You ok?

Cake was bomb

Saved you some

11:49 PM

Hey

Can’t talk

11:51 PM

Sure thing

What happened?

Momstuff?

12:41 AM

LMK if you need anything





PENNY.


The downside to Jude being chipper and easygoing was that when she had it out for you, you felt it. By day two of Jude giving her the silent treatment, Penny was distraught. As soon as Penny entered their room, Jude glared at her, cranked up her speakers, and turned away. Often she blasted god-awful dubstep mash-ups neither of them liked, which is how Penny knew Jude really had it out for her.

When Penny left a banana on her desk as an offering, Jude rejected it. She refused it by putting it on Penny’s work chair, so when Penny went to write, she sat on it. As tiny passive-aggressive revenges went, it was adorable, and it killed Penny that they couldn’t laugh about it.

Penny hit up her mom that afternoon. She’d been dreading texting Celeste, but she had to bite the bullet.

I’m so sorry I won’t make it tonight I’m slammed with my creative writing final Need to write 3K words by Monday Will make it up to you

Happy birthday!!!


Celeste would barely notice Penny wasn’t there. Last she checked on Facebook, the sit-down dinner had transformed to a cocktail fiesta with forty-five guests and a norte?o ensemble, Los Chingones, that took requests for live-band karaoke. Live. Band. Karaoke. There was no way.

Sam texted:

She blew me off for lunch


Jude wasn’t talking to him either.

I called her.

And?

Nothing.

She’s so mad

Living in the same room

Is the worst


Celeste called.

Penny guiltily sent it to voicemail.

I screwed up big, huh?

Ugh I knew we should tell her The super-shameful part was that Jude’s rancor and Penny’s guilt had the unforeseen advantage of helping her write. Penny spent the next few hours consumed by her story and by 11:30 p.m. had completed whole new passages to send J.A. for her office hours the next day. When Jude walked in, Penny was startled out of her trance.