P.S. I Like You(33)

“Good idea,” I muttered.

“Guess who asked me out?” Ashley asked brightly.

Like I wanted to hear about her—or anyone’s—love life at the moment. “Who?”

“Mark. The boy who saw the food in my teeth. Apparently I’d already made it through the first two stages. Thank goodness.”

“He told you that?” I glanced at my sister. “He said, ‘Ashley, first I found you mysterious, then I found you intriguing, and then when that food was on your tooth, I found you adorably funny. So now I can ask you out?’ ”

Ashley grinned. “Yes, that is basically what he said.”

“How?”

“By asking me out.”

I grabbed my backpack and climbed out of the car. “It probably went more like this: ‘Huh, that girl is cute, I should go out with her. Because guys don’t care about anything else. They don’t care about personality or intrigue.’ ” I could hear the bitterness in my voice but I didn’t try to stop it.

“Wow.” Ashley raised her eyebrows at me. “Jaded?”

“Yes, I’ve unlocked that achievement. Leveled up.”

“What?”

“Nothing.” I headed for my room, needing some time to unwind on my guitar before I called Isabel.

I reached my bedroom. I should’ve known something was wrong when the door was wide open, or when my guitar case was only halfway under my bed. I should’ve, but I didn’t. I pulled the case out, very calm. The latches were undone, but I figured I’d just left them undone the night before. I flipped open the lid.

The first thing I saw were all the strings loose, a couple broken completely. That didn’t have me panicking, just a little angry. Strings were easy to replace. But then I saw the jagged line across the neck of the guitar, close to the body.

“No, no, no, no.” I pulled it out and only the neck came—the end as spiked as a rake. The rest stayed in the case, completely severed. My face drained of all feeling. “No! Mom!”

My mother arrived at my door, breathless. “What? What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

I held up the bodiless neck for her to see.

Her expression went from panicked to sympathetic. “Oh no. What happened?”

“What do you mean, what happened?” I exploded, feeling tears threaten. “Jonah happened! I’ve asked you a million times to keep him out of my room.”

Mom frowned. “Jonah did that?”

“Who else? I certainly didn’t do it.”

“Don’t jump to conclusions.”

“I don’t have to jump to anything. I’m holding the conclusion.” I threw the broken piece into the case and sank onto my bed face first.

“Oh, honey. We’ll figure something out.”

“What?” I said, my voice muffled by the mattress. “You can’t afford to buy me a new guitar. This one took me six months to earn. What’s left to figure out?”

“Is it repairable?”

“It’s splintered. It’s not a clean break.”

The mattress sank down as my mom sat next to me. She rubbed my back. I shrugged her hand off. She got the hint.

“I’m sorry, Lil. You can have first dibs on all the fairs,” she said softly. “I’ll help you earn it back.”

I lifted my head, brushing the tears away from my eyes. “Why should I have to earn it back?” I said. “Shouldn’t Jonah be working the fairs to buy me a new one?”

“He’s seven.”

“Old enough to know better.”

“Honey … ”

“Mom? Can you leave? I want to be alone.”

“Okay.”

I didn’t say anything and she stood and left my room. I heard her call for Jonah as she shut my door. Then they had a conversation in the hall. I listened in, my face pressed back into the mattress.

“Jonah, did you break your sister’s guitar?”

“What? No.”

“Did you go in her room and break her guitar?”

“No! I didn’t.”

Right. Give him the chance to say no, Mom. Good call. She should’ve just led with, “I know you broke her guitar.” But whatever. It didn’t matter. It was broken. Jonah admitting it wouldn’t change that fact.

There was a rattling on my handle followed by my mom saying, “Leave her be for now. You can talk to her later.”

Mom must’ve told everyone to leave me be because no one bugged me for the rest of the evening. Not a single person. After years of trying to get some alone time, I finally had it.

I pulled my notebook out and stared at the song I had started. I couldn’t write that song right now. It was about him … about Cade. I shuddered. I could only write one song about Cade. I turned to a fresh page and positioned my pencil.

You claim you want to be heard.

So you write your hollow words.

You fill your life with deception.

Because it’s all about perception.

The world sees you one way.

And they listen to all you say.

You crave their attention.

To feed your addiction.

You have two sides.

Two faces.

You’re trying to hide.