None of the Above(62)

It shouldn’t have been a shock. Sam was too hot and too popular to be single for long, even with the stigma of having done it with a freak. It still hurt, though, in the way that I suppose a phantom limb hurts. I knew that the person I loved wasn’t there anymore, yet I still felt the hope for him, the memory of his touch.

The worst thing, though, was the fear that I would never be able to fill that void again.

When I got home, I thumbed through my phone for Jessica’s number to see if I could take her up on her offer. My call went to voice mail, and in desperation I actually left a message. I had to. Something about the house around the holidays made me want to go out in the worst way. Maybe it had to do with how my dad played his Home for the Holidays CD in a constant loop. Or maybe it was the silent loneliness of the dead bulbs on our Christmas lights, which Aunt Carla insisted on hanging on our windows “to guide the angels to our house.”

Either way, I had to escape.

It was too cold for a skirt, so I dug up my red pleather pants, knee-high boots, and a black top. The minute Dad came in and saw me all made up, he asked if I had plans, nodding happily when I told him yes, and handing me another twenty. “Say hi to Faith for me,” he said.

I headed out to Whitesboro again, and trolled the strip looking for a club that seemed likely—not too popular, but not too empty either. I had decided on a club called Bliss and was looking for parking when I saw them, standing in line, shivering adorably in their miniskirts while they laughed, not a care in the world.

Vee and Faith.





CHAPTER 37


It was the first time I’d seen Vee in a month. The gut-punching sense of betrayal wasn’t shocking, nor was the sense of loss. We’d been friends for eighteen years; of course part of me missed her still.

The anger, though, surprised me.

I am not a vengeful person. But one look at Vee, with her perky, queen-of-the-world head tilt and her careless, self-absorbed smirk, and it was all I could do to prevent myself from slamming on the gas and turning her into a very unattractive hood ornament.

Instead, I jerked into a parking space and turned the engine off. As the cold seeped into my car, I thought over my options. Much as I wanted to, I wasn’t going to run her over. But I wasn’t going to let myself drive away like a powerless victim, either.

I wanted answers.

How could she live with herself after ruining my life? Without even apologizing? Did she feel anything? I wanted her to see me. If I could make her feel a speck of guilt, disrupt her happiness for just a fraction of a second, it might be enough. I wasn’t going to make a scene. If I knew that she felt sorry for what she did, for the friendship that she’d flushed down the drain, I’d be able to let go.

My hands shook as I unlocked the door. Stepping out, the soles of my boots skidded on a patch of ice, but I righted myself. Took a deep breath. And walked up to face my former BFF.

Faith saw me first. “Oh! Hi, Krissy!” she said too brightly, glancing at Vee. She always did turn to other people for cues about how to behave.

“Hi,” I said, following Faith’s gaze to look at Vee, who had taken a sudden interest in her cell phone. When I didn’t move on, Vee put her cell phone away and made a show of raising her eyebrows as if just noticing me.

“Hey.” She nodded coolly. “Long time no see.”

If I had wanted to see remorse, I wasn’t going to get it. I felt like a fool. Had I really expected her to beg for my forgiveness?

“Um, excuse me?” a blue-haired girl behind Vee said. “No cutting. We’ve been waiting forever to get in.”

“Nothing to worry about,” Vee drawled. “She’s not with us.”

She spoke the truth, but it still hurt. Faith tried to intercede. “Come on, Vee, why don’t you just talk? You guys are better than this.”

“Better than what?” Vee snapped. “She’s the one who called me a jealous bitch and then ignored me for a f*cking month.”

“You were the one who told my boyfriend that I was a hermaphrodite!” The words came out before I remembered where we were. A couple of Blue-Haired Girl’s friends giggled nervously, and I could feel their eyes on me. I wanted to shrink from their scrutiny, but there was no going back now. “Like I could forget about that? Ever?”

“I told you,” Vee said with gritted teeth. “I didn’t tell your precious Sam-I-am.”

“Oh, please. No one else knew!”

“Not true,” she said. Her eyes darted toward my other best friend, who was staring down at her sparkly gold high heels. “Why don’t you ask Faith how Sam found out?”


The world spun, then contracted. Around us I sensed people shuffling forward in line. When it was clear we were going nowhere, Blue-Haired Girl stepped around us. I barely noticed, my eyes fixed on Faith, whose face wore the guilt that I’d hoped to see on Vee’s.

She was still looking at her shoes.

“Faith, is she telling the truth?” I asked shakily. I didn’t know why I asked, though. I already knew the answer.

“Krissy,” she said so quietly I could barely hear. “When I found out, I called Sam to see how he was doing.” Her voice trembled. “I didn’t realize that he didn’t know.”

I closed my eyes. Opened them again. Faith had finally looked up from her feet, and I recognized the expression she’d worn around me so many times since my diagnosis. Now, at last, I realized it was guilt.