None of the Above(63)

“Why didn’t you tell me?” I asked. My voice sounded childish, bewildered.

“I was going to try to make it right. And I did try to tell you once, but I didn’t want you to be mad at me. . . .” Her upper lip trembled and she started to cry.

“Oh, Faith.” I put my hand to my forehead, suddenly disoriented by the backlash from my misplaced anger. “Please stop crying.”

“Are you going to hate me forever?”

I let out a long, slow breath and watched it billow in the cold night air. “Of course not. You know it’s impossible for anyone to stay mad at you.”

It was true, had always been true, but my saying it only made her sob louder.

“Jesus f*cking Christ.” Vee sighed. “Come on. Both of you.” She put one arm around Faith to guide her and gestured at me to follow. When we got to her car, she put me in the driver’s seat and made Faith take shotgun. Then she planted herself in the middle of the backseat and watched us: Faith sitting hunched up, still weeping quietly. Me staring out of the window, unable to look at either of them.

“All right, get on with it, guys,” Vee said after a minute of silence.

“Get on with what?” I asked, finally looking at her.

She closed her eyes, and grimaced. “Faith, stop crying and tell Krissy you’re sorry. Krissy, stop moping and tell Faith you forgive her. And while you’re at it, would you get on with your life already?”

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about you getting over yourself. It’s been weeks since you’ve been at school. The other day my mom and I ran into your aunt Carla at ShopRite, and she was going on and on about how concerned she was about you. Krissy, it’s time to move on.”

Even as I cringed at the thought of Aunt Carla accosting the Richardsons, I was furious. “Oh, that’s right! My boyfriend dumps me, the whole school thinks I’m a man, and I’ll move on, just like that! To think that all I needed to solve my problems was the great Vanessa Richardson telling me to snap out of it.”

Then Faith spoke up, her voice stuffy and pathetic. “She’s right, you know.”

I stared. “Why are you taking her side?”

“There’s no side taking here,” Faith said. “I’m the one who screwed up, remember? Anyway, I’m really worried about you. You’ve become, like, a hermit or something.”

The windows were starting to fog up, and I traced a circle on the cold, wet glass. Suddenly, the car felt suffocating. I could feel both Vee and Faith staring at me. I was so sick and tired of people telling me what I should do with my life: My dad. Ms. Diaz. Dr. LaForte. And now the Dynamic Duo.

“You guys don’t understand,” I said stubbornly. “The whispers. The looks.”

“Listen to us, Krissy,” Vee said. “How long have we been friends?”

“Eighteen years, if you include playdates before we could talk,” sniffed Faith.

“Right. So we’ve known you for almost two decades. What would your—” She cut herself off, as if aware that she was going too far.

The air in the car grew heavy. I felt a familiar ache blossom in my chest as the muffled sounds outside receded into the distance. I stared at Vee, who looked down at her hands.

“Go on,” I told her. “I know what you wanted to say. What would my mother think if she saw me like this?”

That’s when I lost it. I’ve never been a pretty crier, not like Faith. I was ugly cry all the way: bloodshot eyes, red nose, snot everywhere. Because what would my mother think? That I was a quitter? That I was weak? Would she just shake her head at the mess that I had become?

“Come on, Krissy,” Vee said roughly, handing me a tissue. “I don’t think I have enough Kleenex for you and Faith both.”

I sob-laughed. “I’ll just have to use my sleeve, then.”

“Um, gross,” Vee said.

“Be nice, Vee,” Faith said. She dabbed at her eyes and reached out to me. “I’m so sorry, Krissy. How can you ever forgive me?”

What a question. In all the years I had known Faith, I couldn’t remember a time when I’d been truly angry at her. Whatever things she did to irritate me, her intentions were always true. I slid into her hug and closed my eyes. “Of course I forgive you, Faith.”

I was too tired to hate. And too guilty.

In the backseat, Vee’s phone rang, but she silenced it. A moment later, it vibrated at the same time Faith’s phone dinged.

“I hate to break up the lovefest,” Vee said after checking the message, “but the others are inside Bliss, wondering where we are. We should go soon.” She turned to me and paused just a second before adding, “You should come.”

My heart wanted to, but my mind said no. I shook my head. “Thanks, but I’m going to go home. It’s not that I’m running away,” I added quickly. “I just need some time to pull myself together. I mean, look at me, right?” I gestured toward my post-sob face.

“Okay.” Vee gave me a searching look. She got out of the backseat and opened the door to let me out.

As I slid out of the car, I grabbed hold of Vee’s coat. “Wait,” I said quietly. “I’m sorry I accused you of telling Sam.”


Vee shrugged. Started to say something, but stopped. I could have been the wind, but I thought I saw tears in her eyes, too. “Apology accepted.”