If I'm Being Honest(73)
She laughs derisively. “Of course not. I’m kind of flattered you think I’m that smart, honestly.”
I furrow my brow. “Why do they have Brendan doing all this tutoring if they didn’t for you?”
Paige goes quiet, her expression growing stony. I face the window again, understanding I’ve trespassed into territory she doesn’t want to cover. It’s none of my business if she doesn’t want to discuss problems with her parents.
“Brendan’s always been the gifted one,” she says quietly. I turn back to her, having not expected an answer. Paige watches the road, a distance in her eyes. She goes on. “It was his kindergarten teacher who told my parents Brendan was special. The very next day, my dad decided Brendan was going to go to MIT, and I became the spare. It’s not like he forgot I existed. I just . . . mattered less.”
I nod. “You couldn’t be enough,” I say, hearing the echo of words that have run through my head a thousand times.
“Exactly,” Paige says. We come up to a red light. She studies me for a moment, her eyes no longer distant. “I don’t envy Brendan. I know he has it really hard, with my dad breathing down his neck every day while my mom says nothing. But I just wish that my dad would notice me, that he’d pay me a fraction of the attention he does Brendan, even if that attention is only him lecturing me and forcing me to study.”
The light changes, and Paige returns her eyes to the road. We pass La Brea and Highland, a blur of streetlights and illuminated signs.
“It’s why I screw off,” Paige continues hollowly. “It’s why I dye my hair, work on costumes until one in the morning, get shitty grades, and come home drunk from a nightclub where I hooked up with a guy I don’t even like. Because I got into the same prep school as Brendan, and it didn’t matter. I could get Brendan’s GPA, Brendan’s test scores, Brendan’s college acceptances, and it wouldn’t fucking matter. I get my parents’ attention the way I have to.”
I look at Paige, whose eyes remain on the cars crossing the intersection in front of us. I knew what Brendan was going through with his parents, but Paige? I had no idea how much we had in common.
“Well, that’s dumb,” I say, my voice thick, “because you’re awesome.”
She laughs, wiping a tear from her cheek, and pulls up to the curb outside my apartment building. I glance up at my dark bedroom window, my hand on the car door. I want to acknowledge what Paige’s confided in me. To tell her I’m touched she’s allowed me to see this side of her and I won’t betray her friendship—a friendship I’m grateful for every day. I open my mouth to thank her for what she’s told me, for giving me more chances than I deserve, for being there for me when I didn’t even know how much I needed her.
Instead, I say, “My dad showed up at school tonight.”
Paige blinks, then turns off the engine and gives me her full attention. My heart pounds painfully in my chest. Telling her everything is terrifying, but I’m going to. It’s the right way to show her she’s important to me. And maybe her bravery has lifted my own. I take my hand off the door.
“Doesn’t he live in New York or something?” she asks carefully.
“Philadelphia.” I blow out a breath. “He didn’t even tell me he was coming to town. My mom found out from a friend who saw him.”
“Shit, Cameron. That’s messed up.” Her eyes are round, her eyebrows raised.
“It is, right?” I tentatively meet her gaze, genuinely needing her confirmation to believe it.
“Yes,” she says deliberately. “It is.”
Her words unlock something in me, and suddenly I can’t get my own out fast enough. “It’s just, he’s not nice to my mom or even to me. But tonight, he was nice to everyone else.”
“That’s not your fault,” Paige cuts in quickly. “People put on appearances in front of strangers. It has nothing to do with you.”
I nod, unreasonably relieved to hear her voice what I’d been desperately trying to convince myself was true. I shift in my seat, facing her completely. “I don’t know why, but I still try. I still show up hoping he’ll want to see me. I send him my grades, my test scores—I do everything I can to talk to him. Is there something wrong with me?” My voice is quiet, but I force myself not to hide in the shadows coming through the window. “I know he’s awful. I know it isn’t okay when he calls my mom pathetic, but I still look at him and—and I want to be him. Because he’s successful and he achieves his goals, and my mom . . . doesn’t. It’s why I’m such a bitch, I guess.”
Paige’s mouth softens with concern. “There’s nothing wrong with you. He’s your dad. Of course you want his approval, no matter what kind of guy he is.” She pauses, and I think she’s said everything she’s going to until her lips curve lightly upward. “And you’re not a bitch, Cameron,” she adds.
I fix my eyes on the textbook on the floor, unable to meet hers. “But I am. Did you forget what I said to you at Skaˉra?”
“No. I haven’t forgotten. You told me to find someone as pathetic as I am to hook up with,” she says harshly, her anger from that night not completely faded.
“I as much as called you pathetic. I thought it, too. I have a dozen memories of my dad saying the same to my mom. I’ve watched it wreck her a little more each time. I know what an awful thing it is to hurl at someone, and I did it anyway.” I raise my gaze to her. “I’m sorry, Paige. I really am. I would take it back if I could. You’re a million miles from pathetic.”