If I'm Being Honest(12)
While Kowalski goes over the handout, I can’t help glancing over my shoulder at him, even resorting to tactics like dropping my pen and pretending to rearrange my hair. The minute she gives us time to read aloud in groups, I’m out of my chair and walking toward Paige before she can partner up with anyone.
On the way, I purposefully walk close to Andrew’s desk. My dress brushes his paper onto the floor. I pick it up and put it on his desk, but I don’t linger. While he’s still looking up, I continue on to Paige.
Here goes . . . everything.
“Hi, Paige,” I start, my voice overly gentle, the way I talk to my mom when she gets depressed and won’t leave the bedroom. Paige glances up warily. Her haircut really is terrible. “I owe you an apology for Friday,” I continue, glancing toward Andrew, whose head is tilted in our direction even though his reading partner is loudly declaring the opening lines of the play.
“Oh yeah? For what?” Paige asks, her expression flat.
I size her up for a moment. Paige continues to surprise. I know what she’s doing—she’s forcing me to repeat what I said to her. Now is not the time for retaliation, however. I take a breath, schooling my features into remorse.
“What I said to you was uncalled for,” I go on. “You were obviously having a rough night”—to put it generously—“and I’m sorry I made it worse.” It’s time to play the extenuating-circumstances card. “I was having a bad day. Honestly, my mom lost her job. I’m not making an excuse,” I rush to say. “I just hope you’ll forgive me.”
Andrew starts to smile. I feel a flush of excitement, and I have to bite my cheek to keep from beaming in the middle of my heartfelt apology. It worked. Andrew’s looking at me the way he used to. I can tell—
“Why are you apologizing now?” Paige’s voice rips me from my already forming fantasies.
I turn back to face her, finding her watching me carefully. It takes me a moment to reply. “What do you mean?” I ask, controlling my composure.
“You saw me in first period. Why didn’t you apologize then?”
The excitement rushes out of me, and anger rushes in. For a moment I can’t marshal my expression. I know exactly where this is headed, and I’m certain I’m not the only one who knows Andrew is watching. I narrow my eyes, feeling my nostrils flare. “We didn’t have any free time in Ethics. I’ve been waiting for a chance like this,” I get out.
Infuriatingly, Paige grins.
“Huh,” she says. “You had time to talk about your friend’s tragic cold sore.”
I don’t know how to respond. I know how I’d like to respond. I’d tell her helping my friends with literally anything comes before apologizing to a girl who’s done nothing but glare at me. I know Andrew’s watching, though, and I hold in the retort. Aware I’m losing ground, I say desperately, “I want to make this right.”
Paige reclines in her chair, crossing her arms over her chest. She’s enjoying herself. “Make this right while Andrew Richmond is watching, you mean,” she says, and I feel my cheeks flame. “Because I can’t imagine a different reason why you wouldn’t have apologized in first period or even during break. You can’t fool me with your charm and your perfect blonde hair, Bright,” she says, her voice turning low and ugly. “I see through you. By now, I imagine Andrew does, too.”
Her mouth curls in an acidic smirk. For a moment I’m almost impressed. “I guess this means you won’t be accepting my apology.” I have to muster every ounce of calm in me to get the words out.
“You guess right,” Paige says.
We hold each other’s glares. Then I turn on my heel. When I walk back toward my desk, I notice Andrew watching me without bothering to hide it.
Earlier today I would’ve given anything to have his eyes on me. Now I’d give anything to erase the disgust in them.
Six
I SIT BETWEEN ELLE AND MORGAN ON the patio for lunch. Elle’s trying to catch up on History homework, while Morgan pokes her kale salad disinterestedly. “I don’t get it,” I grumble. Morgan nods understandingly. Elle’s eyes flit up in acknowledgment, then return to her homework. “I know he likes me. He’s liked me since freshman year. And now he writes me off as a bitch?”
I wait for reassurance. I tried to talk to Andrew today in the wake of the disastrous apology attempt. He won’t even look at me. Won’t walk in my direction in the halls. Won’t anything. It pisses me off, honestly. I don’t know why he thinks he has the right to judge me—as if he’s better than I am, as if he’s never insulted anyone in anger, as if he’s perfect. If I weren’t really, really into him, I’d give him a piece of my mind about it.
Morgan only nods. Her eyes wander to the burger on Brad’s plate. Brad’s examining his fingernails, but I know he’s listening.
“If he doesn’t see you’re in no way a bitch, he’s not worth it. Who even cares what he thinks? Don’t let other people’s opinions get in your way,” Elle says finally. She closes her textbook with a short sigh. “I’m never going to finish this.”
“Brad . . .” Morgan glances indicatively at his plate. He rolls his eyes and pushes his burger in her direction. Morgan, pleased, grabs the burger and looks up at me. “We’re your friends, Cameron. If you were a bitch, we’d tell you.”