Be the Girl(92)

As I keep going, I realize it’s another jogger, and they’re heading my way. Not long after that, I recognize the tight form and the fitted white-and-blue toque hugging his head.

Dread builds as Emmett gets closer. Will he at least say hi on his way past? Will he do more than give me a fleeting glance? Is he wishing he turned right instead of left back there?

My eyes sting with those thoughts and, as much as I try to keep my tears from spilling, by the time the distance between us has closed, fat, hot tears streak down my frozen cheeks.

Emmett doesn’t run past me with a hi or a glance. He comes to a stop in front of me and, without saying a word, pulls me into his body, his strong arms wrapping around my back like a cocoon.

I sink into his warmth as the first sob rattles my chest. The soft thrum of music pulses through my earbuds, and regret for all my bad decisions overwhelms my heart.

The front of his down jacket is smeared with frozen tears by the time I finally break free, wiping at my cheeks and thoroughly embarrassed for breaking down on him in the middle of the quiet street.

He gently slips one bud from my ear and holds it up to his for a moment. “Well, no wonder. That’s depressing music.”

I laugh, and even though it’s weak, it feels good to laugh with Emmett again. “So, you run at night now, too?”

“No.” He offers me a dimpled smile. “Your mom said you were out here.”

He came out here for me?

I finally gather the courage to hold his gaze. His eyes are shining brighter than they have when they’ve touched me lately.

“I didn’t have a chance to talk to you after class today, seeing as you bolted out of there.”

I smile sheepishly. “Yeah. I needed a few minutes on my own.” I hid in the bathroom stall and was five minutes late for math.

“I … that took a lot of guts, what you did today.”

“Can’t really pretend it didn’t happen anymore, right?” And being a better person doesn’t mean hiding from or lying about who I used to be.

“So much of what you talked about is shit that happens in school every day, Aria. The gossip, the text messages, the comments. People do it all the time. Everyone does it. I’ve done it. Doesn’t make it okay but … I can see how it spiraled out of control like that.”

I shrug. “I figured, if my story makes people stop and think about what their words could do to a person, then I should tell it, right?”

“Right.” He nods slowly, his eyes roaming my face.

“I miss you.” I don’t mean to say it aloud, but it slips out anyway.

He offers me a sad smile. “I miss you, too, AJ.”

But you screwed it all up.

I study my snow-covered running shoes as another prickly lump forms in my throat, a fresh wave of tears threatening.

“I don’t think you’re Aria Wiser anymore.”

“And yet somehow I ended up at war with another girl, and it started over a boy, again.” I laugh, though it’s not at all funny. “So, who am I, really?”

“Look at me.” His jaw tenses as his thumb catches the single tear that falls. “You’re the girl who charmed a crusty old carnival operator into giving my sister an extra try. You’re the girl who couldn’t leave an old, unwanted dog in the shelter so you brought him home without asking.” A sly smile touches his lips. “You’re the girl who will sit in the cafeteria with Jen Ricci no matter what’s she’s wearing.”

“That green Grinch sweater yesterday almost broke me,” I admit sheepishly.

He chuckles, and his thumb grazes my cheek again. “I like that girl. A lot.” He takes a deep breath. “So, do you think we could start over, from the very beginning?”

My heart skips two beats. What’s he saying? “Do you mean, like ‘Hi, this is Aria with the green face who likes dogs and hates tomatoes’ start over?”

His head tips back with his deep laughter.





Epilogue





“Aria! They’re all waiting outside!”

I check myself one last time in the full-length mirror that Mick installed on the outside of the closet he built me, and then grab my clutch and my heels and head downstairs.

Mom beams up at me from the landing, her eyes watering as they drag the length of the A-line, floor-length silver gown we bought in April, after Emmett asked me to prom.

“You look beautiful, hon.”

I can’t help but twirl the moment my toes touch the landing.

“You sure you won’t be cold? Your back is awfully … bare.”

“I’ll be fine.”

She fusses with one of my shoulder straps. Everything about the dress is perfect—from the V neckline and the lace bodice to the satin material.

A sad smile touches her lips. “When did my little girl grow up …”

“Don’t worry, I’m sure I’ll still do plenty of stupid, childish things.”

She sighs with exasperation. “Come on. Heather’s waiting outside with her fancy camera.”

A nervous flutter stirs in my stomach as I step out into the warm June evening. The stretch SUV limo we ordered is waiting in the cul-de-sac for our group of twelve—mostly Emmett’s hockey friends plus dates, but also Jen and Richard, who decided to go together as “friends”—currently milling on our front lawn. Heather tests the lighting of various angles with her camera.