Be the Girl(33)

I was half kidding when I told Uncle Merv that his house would be unrecognizable by the time Mom went back to work, but I’m not so sure that will be wrong. She’s spending a lot of money for a person who’s currently unemployed. I know she made a lot off the sale of our house out west. I overheard her talking to the realtor about how it was the best investment she’d ever made—a case of buying at the right time, in the right place. Plus, between my dad and her both being lawyers, and only having one kid, I never wanted for much.

I notice the plate of fruit on the table between us. “Is that for me?”

She shrugs. “You complained about needing a break from all the baking, so there you go. Plus, the freezer is full of zucchini bread. Sit, and talk to me.” She smiles warmly. “Tell me about your day.”

My day was horrible, Mom. Like crawl-under-my-covers-and-never-come-out horrible. There was nothing good about today. And I’m torn between confessing this to her—because I’ll have to give details—and lying, telling her that everything is fine. Except, she’s probably going to watch that video. Tonight or tomorrow, or next week. And when she does, it’s all going to come out. I’ll have no choice but to explain, and my mother will start to worry that I’m hiding things from her again.

I swallow my anxiety and fear. “Number one …”





Mom sets my phone down on the table, having listened to the recording twice. Her face is unreadable as she takes a sip of her tea. “Well, that girl’s a piece of work.”

“She’s awful. I don’t care what she said about me. But it’s Cassie and Jen.” Mom listens quietly as I fill her in on Jen and Holly’s history, of how cruel Holly has been to Jen in the past. And each cringe from my mother, each frown, each headshake emboldens me, makes me think that I did the right thing.

“This is not okay, Aria.” She taps my phone. “Recording other girls in your school like that is not okay—”

“Mom, I know!” Tears prick my eyes. Of all people, I know.

“Of course, you do,” she says, squeezing the bridge of her nose. “What did Emmett say?”

“Nothing to me, but he was mad. And I’m pretty sure he dumped her after school. That’s what it looked like it in the parking lot, anyway.”

She nods through a quiet sip of tea. “At least he has his priorities straight.”

“He’s the one who forwarded the video to himself, right after he watched it, before I knew what he was doing. I didn’t send that to him.”

She waggles a finger at me. “See how fast something like that can happen—”

“I know, Mom.” I feel like I’ve said that a hundred times since sitting down. “He promised he wouldn’t send it anywhere else.” I just don’t know if I can believe him.

She purses her lips. “I saw that text come through earlier today, but I didn’t open it. I don’t want to be snooping and monitoring you. Especially when it comes to Emmett and Cassie.” She drums her fingers over the table’s surface. “That’s why you’re telling me now, isn’t it? Because you figured I might see it.”

I shrug and avert my eyes to the table. Guilty as charged.

“I’m glad you told me, Aria. I’m not happy about any of this but your heart was in the right place, which is the important part here. Hopefully, this Holly girl will learn a valuable lesson from this.” She spins the appliance pamphlet around. “Do you think we should go with all black? Or stainless steel?”

I blink at her. Is that it? Is that all she’s going to say?

“Or there’s this model that’s a mix of black and stainless steel. That could be good.”

“Uh … What would Uncle Merv like?”

She waves that thought away with a laugh. “Oh, he doesn’t care. I set him up with an audiobook account and he’s been in that chair all day, quiet. He’s in heaven.” She gives me a pointed look. “And, now, so am I.”





Emmett pulls into his driveway at nine thirty that night, as I’m curled up on my window seat, my textbook in my lap, halfway through my functions and quadratic equations homework.

He climbs out, pops his trunk, and hauls his equipment out, only to toss the bag haphazardly on the grass beside his SUV.

He looks up at my window.

Do I pretend I’m not watching him? Do I wave hello? Do I keep staring out my window, debating what I should do, until this gets super awkward?

He slides his phone out of his back pocket.

A moment later, my phone chirps with an incoming text.

Can you come out to talk?





A mixture of excitement and dread erupts inside me. I have no idea how this conversation is going to go. Marking my textbook page, I head downstairs to the tune of Uncle Merv’s deep snore carrying from his bedroom. Mom glances up from the living room couch, an Ontario law textbook in her lap, her reading glasses perched on her nose. “Where are you going?”

“Outside, to talk to Emmett.” I slip on my shoes. “Be back in a bit.”

“Okay. I hope he’s doing okay.”

Oddly enough, I feel relieved that this isn’t a burning secret between us. I hesitate. “I’m glad I told you.”