If I'm Being Honest(61)

“Make things right?” she repeats. Her cheeks flush, her eyes sharpen. “How is it right to betray your friends? You know”—she gestures to herself and Morgan, who doesn’t look up from her plate—“your real friends? The people who’ve cared about you for years? Not the losers you hang out with now,” she spits. “They don’t even like the real you. Only the timid version of yourself you’ve created to convince Andrew you’re not a bitch.”

We’ve drawn the attention of the tables nearby. I feel them watching us, hear their wary whispering. I should defend myself. I should tell Elle she’s wrong. But I can’t—not when she’s voiced the fear I’ve been forcing down.

“I’m just telling you the truth. Somebody should,” she continues. She knows she’s hit a nerve. I hear the venomous determination in her voice. “I noticed right away. Ever since Andrew humiliated you, you hardly speak your mind, worried you’re going to offend someone and live up to what he called you.” She nods to the list open in my notebook. “I had no idea how far you were going, though. It’s all for Andrew, isn’t it?”

It’s not. The words are there, ringing in my head, but I can’t get my mouth to work. My best friend is looking at me with disgust and disappointment. Suddenly I’m my mom, and it’s easier to let my dad yell than it is to fight back. Because with someone who cares about you, who really knows you, you shouldn’t have to defend yourself.

Elle picks up the pages of my essay. “Katherine’s not the villain of the play. It’s the people trying to change her,” she says with finality and turns like she’s just going to sit back down and finish lunch.

The dismissal unlocks my voice. Words I’ve wanted to say for weeks rush out, harsh and without thought to the damage they’ll do. “I suppose I should be like you, Elle. Right?” I abruptly pick up my bag. “I should take whatever I want, from whoever I want, and not care who gets hurt, as long as I’m happy.” The carefully constructed walls I’ve built crumble. “You know, being yourself isn’t permission to be a terrible person.”

Elle’s eyes widen. I turn and walk away.





Twenty-Nine



I DON’T MAKE IT OUT OF THE courtyard before my stomach knots.

This whole month I’ve done nothing but try to repair relationships. I’ve fixed things with people I hardly know, found parts of myself I never expected. Yet now I’ve managed to wreck my closest friendship. Elle was out of line, but that doesn’t justify what I said. If there’s one thing I’ve learned from my reinvention, it’s that there’s no excuse for cruelty and that everyone—everyone—deserves an apology when wronged.

I walk through campus without a destination.

I’ve watched my every word, my every action. I’ve held myself to strict standards. It wasn’t enough. I’ve ruined a friendship, I’m no closer to Andrew, and Elle was right when she said Paige might not actually like the real me. I don’t even know why I’m doing this anymore—whether Andrew’s really the goal or whether this is for me, to be friends with the people I’ve begun to respect.

And then there’s Brendan. I don’t know how he fits into all of this—haven’t allowed myself to consider it.

Without ever deciding where I’m going, I find myself outside the robotics room. Paige walks out, her head, as promised, completely shaved. It doesn’t look totally terrible. I guess she was trying to convince Brendan to come outside. She sees me and starts to smile, then worry fills her eyes.

“What’s the matter?” she asks. I know I must look harried, wild even, like I’ve fallen through what I thought was solid ground.

I pace in front of her, my thoughts racing too quickly for me to stand still. “I’m tired of holding myself to everyone’s standards,” I reply. Andrew’s, Paige’s friends’, my friends’, my father’s. I’m tired of planning meticulously to fit my life into everyone else’s expectations. “I do everything I’m supposed to, and still I fall short.” I stop suddenly, facing the robotics room door. “It’s time I figured something out for myself.” Time I went off-script. I glance up at Paige, determination pulsing through me. “I’m going to kiss your brother,” I conclude.

Paige begins to laugh, until her expression changes to openmouthed astonishment. “You’re not joking,” she says.

“Nope,” I reply, expecting her to object.

Instead, comprehension slowly settles on Paige’s features. She opens the robotics room door for me with a dramatic flourish. “Well, don’t let me hold you up.”

I walk in, fueled with purpose, ready to—

I falter just inside the doorway because the room’s not empty. Of course. The one time I’m counting on Brendan to have hidden himself from human contact, the room is half full of people. There’s a group of what could possibly be the robotics team working on a collection of circuit boards near the front of the room. Brendan’s in the back, helping Patrick Todd with homework.

I hesitate for a heartbeat. But I’m not going to let myself lose my nerve just because there are people watching. I walk forward, right to the back of the room.

I’m not doing this for my list. I’m doing this for me. Because letting the opportunity vanish under the stars at Rocky was a mistake. A mistake I need to set right.