P.S. I Like You(34)

In two places.

And I hate you, Cade, because you’re the biggest jerk in the world and you should go away forever and stop writing me stupid letters where you pretend to be nice and misunderstood.

“Ugh.” Even my angry Cade-inspired songs were better than anything I’d written before him. I scratched two deep lines in an X across the words. Then I flipped to the back and crossed out all my suspects. Why couldn’t it have been you? I thought as I x-ed out Lucas’s name.

I reached up, ripped down the newspaper clipping from my wall, and crumpled it into a tight ball. Even if I still could finish any song, I wouldn’t be able to write the guitar part for it. And there was no way I was using a song that had anything to do with Cade. I threw the paper across the room. I was being dramatic, but for once I felt like I was justified. Everything had gone wrong.

I dug my phone out of my pocket and called Isabel.

“Hey, Lil!” she answered.

“Hey.” I thought I’d kept the tears out of my voice but when she added, “What’s wrong?” I realized I hadn’t.

“Jonah destroyed my guitar.”

“Oh no! How?”

“I don’t know. He’s denying it, but it’s broken. Completely broken.”

“I’m so sorry,” Isabel said softly. “I know how much you loved your guitar. How hard you worked to buy it.”

“Yeah.”

“Your mom will probably replace it, right?”

“She can’t afford that, Iz. She couldn’t even afford a spool of thread for me before payday.” Tears came to my eyes again. “This is not a spool of thread.”

“That totally sucks.”

“I know.”

“Aw, Lil. It’ll be okay.”

“It’s just, this was my thing, you know?” The tears fell down my cheeks now and I couldn’t stop them. “It was the one thing I was really good at. The one thing that brought me perfect peace and happiness. I don’t need much, but I need this.” I wondered if I was only talking about my guitar.

“Then you’ll find a way to get another one,” Isabel said with determination. “It might take some time, but you’ll do it.”

I knew she was right. “Yeah.”

“If I could, I’d buy you one.”

I smiled through my tears. “I wouldn’t accept something like that from you, Iz.”

“I know.”

I sniffled and wiped my nose on my sleeve.

“So was that the thing you wanted to tell me at lunch?” Isabel asked after a moment.

I paused, and realized I wanted to have this conversation in person. “Are you busy?” I asked. “Can I come over?”

“Of course you can.”

“Okay. I’ll tell you when I get there.”

I hung up, gathered the letters from Cade, and headed for the door.





I was staring at Einstein on Isabel’s ceiling because I couldn’t look at her. I’d rather have Einstein judge me.

“I have to tell you something.”

“Okay … ” Isabel moved to her desk chair.

“Remember how I was exchanging letters with someone in Chemistry?” I said to Einstein.

“Yes. That girl?”

“Girl?” It had been so long since I’d thought my pen pal was a girl that it took me a while to remember that I had at first. “No. I mean yes, but I found out she wasn’t a girl.”

“How’d you find that out?”

“He said something about being a guy in one of the letters. Sorry. I thought I told you.”

“It’s okay.”

I waited for a moment. Waited for her to give a little excited squeal or happy hum. Something that would indicate that she thought this was a good thing—my pen pal being a guy. But she didn’t. She was silent. Probably because I seemed so distraught.

I sat up then to face her. Her expression was as serious as mine.

“Remember years ago when you gave up a boy because he was coming between us?” I asked in a rush.

She nodded. “You mean Cade?”

“Yes.”

She laughed a little. “Yes, of course I remember.” She paused and added, “I don’t want you to think that you were the only reason Cade and I broke up. The two of you both complained about each other to me all the time, and I got tired of it. But Cade and I wouldn’t have worked even if you weren’t in the picture.”

I nodded, then blurted. “Cade is my pen pal.”

Isabel didn’t answer. “Cade Jennings,” I repeated for effect, barely believing the words myself. “He’s the one who’s been writing to me in Chemistry.”

I pulled my shoulder bag, which I had flung onto her bed when I first walked in, onto my lap. Then I dug out all the letters and held them out to Isabel. But my best friend didn’t move to retrieve them.

“And I’m going to stop writing him. Now,” I said. “I didn’t write him today even though he wrote me. I’ll never write him again.”

She still said nothing and I noticed something missing from her expression—surprise.

That’s when it hit me.

Isabel knew.

I’d told her I had a pen pal. And Cade was in her Chemistry class writing letters without the tiniest bit of discretion. And she knew. Isabel was observant like that.