Liars and Losers Like Us(12)

“Okay, I guess. I’m just mad you didn’t—”

“Mad I didn’t give you all the details about hanging out with Sean last night? I didn’t even tell you yet that he asked about Chip.”

“Okay. Fine, we’ll change the subject.” She wipes a tear from the corner of her eye. “Wow. Asking about your ex? That’s big. What’d you say?” Kallie asks, hopping off the bed onto my yellow beanbag chair.

“I told him we were dating like, forever ago, and that some guys just can’t take ‘get off my ass’ for an answer.”

This inspires Kallie to launch into a story about her and Todd’s first date, and I sigh a breath of relief. I nod my head, happy to finally spill about the whole Sean thing—and maybe get some advice. I’m also happy to ditch the subject of my parents’ divorce.

Although I feel lighter having it off my chest with her, I can still sense it hovering over me. I push the feeling aside again and just decide to roll with the relief that the secret’s out.

“But boys can be crazy like that. Are you going to see him again or what? Wait, more importantly, how can we speed this up so he can ask you to Prom?”

“What? Oh, um, Prom Shmom. I’m probably not even going. Chip actually had the nerve to ask me in a voicemail last week if we could go as friends.”

“God, Bree, you might have to go with Chip if you don’t get to work. You can’t not go. This is our Senior Prom. Even Maisey Morgan is going now. I can ask Todd if any of his friends need a date. I’m sure we could find someone to take you.”

“Gee, thanks, but as much fun as it sounds to be a charity case for one of Todd’s friends, I’ll pass.” I roll my eyes so hard that it hurts my head.

Kallie’s lips tighten into a tiny scowl. “Don’t take this the wrong way but what if you started being a little more friendly and social at school? Or maybe if you just chill out a little—”

“Really, Kal? I talk to more than enough people at school. It’s not like I’m walking around the hallways like a loser getting string cheese and paper thrown at me.”

“Don’t get so defensive, that’s not what I’m saying. I meant extending yourself even further.” She stretches her arm toward the window. “Outside of school especially. You should be hanging out with us on weekends. You need to go out of your way to be nicer, and a lot more approachable.”

“I’m not sure how telling you my parents got divorced and how I hung out with Sean turned into a lecture on how to make friends and influence people. It’s not the trade-off I was looking for.”

“I was just trying to tell you why no one’s asked you yet.”

“So, what you’re saying is that no one’s asked me because I don’t have enough friends. Maybe if I start smiling more and stealing boyfriends, I could have a date and maybe even a few friends that call me on a regular basis?”

Kallie frowns. “What the hell, Bree? Are you seriously saying that? I didn’t steal anyone’s boyfriend.”

“I’m just saying that—”

“No,” she says. “I heard you. And now I get why you’ve been such a crappy friend lately.”

“Me?” I fold my arms across my chest. “That’s hilarious. Where have you been? Where have you been this whole year while I’ve been avoiding my shit-head ex-boyfriend who punched a freakin’ car window because I ruined his plans to screw me on the Fourth—the day I found out about my parents?”

Her eyes widen, like an owl’s. “I’m not a mind-reader! How the hell am I supposed to know what’s going on if you never say anything? What kind of best friend are you? You can’t expect to make or keep friends if you always have them at arm’s length.” She grabs her gray hoodie off my floor and huffs out the door. The edges of my Adam Levine poster flap as my door slams. Her voice rings out from the hallway. “And you sure as hell won’t get a Prom date that way either.”

As her black boots stomp down the stairs, I yell, “Well I guess if I used your methods on keeping guys around, I could have twenty dates lined up.”

The anger I’ve been shoving into the little corner of my gut shoves me right back. Tears pool in the corners of my eyes. Nope. Not doing it. Not worth it. I hate crying. Last time was in December after Mom made a point of getting rid of every last “her and Dad” item in the house. He came by after Christmas to get the things Mom said were a day away from being Craigslisted. He did it while I was at school and left a card with a sparkly purple Christmas tree on the front. Inside was a stack of twenty-dollar bills. He’d written:

“Just in case you didn’t get everything on your list.

Con amor, Dad”

I wished I had the guts to send the card and money back. I’d have crossed out what he wrote and written my own message:

“Sure wish I could buy a live-in dad for $200.

Your biological daughter, Bree Hughes”

But I didn’t. I spent the money on a bunch of downloaded music and new purple sneakers.





SIX


Monday inches by like I figured it would. Kallie and I pass each other in the halls and take turns getting things out of our locker without a word. She breathes all heavy and dragon-like through her nose at the locker. The tension is so thick I’m practically peeling through billowy layers of it just to get my Bio book and an extra pencil.