Tell Me Three Things(63)

“No way!” Scar squeals and claps. “I was so hoping it wouldn’t be him!”

“What are you talking about?” I ask.

“Look!” Scar hands me the phone, which is open to a three-way message between me, Agnes, and Dri.



Agnes: BIG NEWS. Just saw Caleb at Barney’s.

Dri: So?

Agnes: HE WAS WITH HIS SISTER!

Dri: She’s not dead?

Agnes: Nope. Alive and well, and buying a thousand-dollar handbag.

Dri: JESSIE!!!! OMG!!! OMG!!!

Agnes: Told you Caleb wasn’t SN.



“Wait, what?” I look at Scarlett. I’m confused. Of course SN is Caleb. I mean, he has to be. The way he dresses like someone who wants to remain anonymous. The fact that he had his phone out at the party. And the way he showed up at Book Out Below! after I told him I work there. The way he always texts minutes after we talk in person. That whole phone-shake code thingy. Did he make up his dead sister?

And didn’t SN and I talk about my coffee offer once, that time when I took it back?

I search for the message. And there it is:



Me: (3) Just so you know, I take back coffee.

SN: okay, no sugar for you.

Me: What?

SN: a joke. Seinfeld reference.

Me: It’s not funny.

SN: it’s just coffee. relax.



I give my phone back to Scar, like it’s something toxic. Did I have it all wrong? Did SN think it was a typo? That I was saying that I take my coffee black? I thought he meant it was just coffee, that meeting in person was no big deal.

“Yeah! I was so not rooting for Caleb. He seems like kind of a dick—no offense. Kilimanjaro notwithstanding. Like, if he was going to spend all this time messaging you, he should want to hang out.”

“Wait, so you think it’s not him. For real?” My head is spinning again. Scar was wrong. This soup is no hangover cure. I feel the hot sauce make its way up the back of my throat, burn, burn, burn.

“Of course not. Who makes up a dead sister?”

“Weirdos who anonymously text their classmates.”

“No way. It’s official. SN is not Caleb.”

“Then who the hell is he?” I ask.

“Look,” Scar says, and hands my phone right back.



SN: I’m worried. are you okay? you can be mad, but just tell me you are okay?

SN: hello?

SN: okay, trying to calm down, even though it’s the middle of the night and impossible to think clearly. i’m just going to tell myself that your phone died or you turned it off because you didn’t want to talk to me, which is fine, though i don’t get it, but you’re not in some ditch somewhere drunk with that stupid jerk who wouldn’t leave you alone.

SN: morning now. you’re okay, right? right. RIGHT?

SN: three things: (1) I’ve only told you one lie. the rest, everything else, has been the truth. and though it was a big one, I think you’ll understand why. god, I hope so. (2) THIS is more important than anything else. this is real. even if everything else feels like it’s not most of the time. (3) I’ve been thinking about it all night, have reread your messages a million times, and I’m pretty sure I know who you think I am and you’re wrong.

SN: just for today, I’m doing a number 4. Let’s meet.



“So it is Caleb. Because he says he lied. So it has to be Caleb,” I say. “He lied about his sister and everything else is the truth.”

“No way. He lied about something else. Or maybe he lied about his sister, but it wasn’t Caleb who did the lying. It’s just not him. I know it,” Scar says, and for some reason, though she has never met any of these people, I believe her. Caleb has been so dismissive of me—not interested in even the smallest of small talk. SN is the opposite—always wants to hear more, all of the details that add up to the entirety of my day. “I think he’s Liam.”

“No way,” I say.

“It explains why he would dump Gem for you.”

I smile at Scar but not because any part of me hopes SN is Liam. That would suck for so many reasons, not least, because of Dri.

“You’ve been listening,” I say, and feel so grateful she’s still my friend, that she will be, hopefully forever. She knew my mother. And the me of before. That’s no small thing.

“Of course I’ve been listening.”



Me: Sorry about last night. Wasn’t myself. Long story. But yes…let’s meet. I think it’s time.

SN: it’s definitely, unequivocally time.





CHAPTER 29


“You know what’s weird? There are a ton of randos at school. SN could be anyone. I mean, he could be that guy Ken Abernathy, who, like, has a real farting issue. I mean, it’s sad. He could even be Mr. Shackleman!” Scar and I are driving around. No destination in mind. Just looping the streets because they’re familiar. Unlike my former classmates, the surroundings here look the same as before: the trees may be naked, but they’re naked in the same way they were last fall and the one before that. Even my house looks almost exactly the way I remember it, even though it’s been overtaken by a new family. Only difference is there’s now a tricycle with tasseled handlebars on the front lawn and a football wedged in a bush. When we drive by, I squint so these new additions get erased from the image.