P.S. I Like You(37)

“Sure,” he said.

“Sure?”

“Yes, I’ll go. Should we meet there at eight?”

“Okay. Friday at eight.”

I managed not to let out any form of happy yelp or excited jump as I walked away.





The next morning Isabel jogged toward me as I walked to first period, determination in her eyes. When she reached me we both stopped.

“Time’s up,” she said.

I smiled and she handed me some sheets of paper. Had she written me a letter?

“What’s this?”

“The last thing I thought about before I went to bed last night.”

I unfolded the papers. They were ads, printed off of Craigslist. Gently used acoustic guitar. In great shape. New strings. Plays perfectly. $150. Or best offer. There were several more similar to the first for different prices.

I smiled. Those prices were a lot more doable than four hundred, but they still seemed impossible. I glanced up at Isabel tentatively, knowing this was her peace offering, feeling bad for not having one of my own.

“I’m sorry,” we both said at the same time. Then we both smiled.

“Let me go first,” she said. “I should have told you it was Cade.” She looked around and dropped her voice. “I’m so sorry I didn’t. It was wrong of me and I can only imagine how you felt when you learned who you’d been exchanging your thoughts with. And it hadn’t even occurred to me that you might have been telling him things that you wouldn’t want him to know. I really just thought they were letters about music.”

“I’m sorry, too. I should’ve shown you the letters and then you would’ve known. And I’m really sorry for getting in between you two when you were together.”

She shook her head so hard that her hair went one way and then the other. “No. Please don’t apologize for that. You can’t get in between something that isn’t already broken.”

I gave her a hug, choosing to believe she was sincere. Even though I now knew that on some level, she really did think it was my fault. But I’d own that because I knew in some ways, it was. “You’re the best friend on the planet.” I held up the Craigslist ads. “And thank you for this.”

“I know they aren’t your guitar,” Isabel said, nodding. “You’d saved up for a great one. But it’s something, right?”

“Yes. It’s perfect. I might be able to afford one like this in a couple weeks.” Maybe in time to still make the deadline for the competition, I thought, feeling a rush of hope. If I won that, I’d be able to afford a guitar and more. “Thank you, Iz.”

She smiled. “You’re welcome.”

I put the papers in my backpack just as the first bell rang. “So … I asked Lucas out.”

Isabel’s eyes widened. “You did? When?”

“Yesterday,” I said, feeling a jolt of nerves. “I asked him to a concert this weekend.” I turned to her. “Please tell me that you and Gabriel will go with me.”

“Of course!” Isabel put her arm around me. “I can’t believe you asked him out.”

“I can’t believe it, either! And he said yes.” I was still in shock.

“Of course he did.” Isabel nudged me. “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you. You don’t need anonymous letter writing when you are Lily Abbott.”

I laughed, blushing. “Let’s not get carried away.”

“So how did that go, anyway?” she asked.

“How did what go?”

She shot me a sidelong glance. “You stopped writing Cade, right? I know you. You probably felt the need to explain why in a letter. What did you say?”

I wrung my hands together. “I haven’t been able to explain why yet. But I will. I will.”

“I know you will. I mean, it’s Cade Jennings. Mortal enemy number one.” She laughed, gave me another hug, then turned around and headed to her first class. “See you later.”

Yes, exactly. Mortal enemy number one.



I’m sorry. It sounds like you were worse than sick—you were depressed. Is there anything I can do? I haven’t had a blowup with a best friend, but it can’t be fun. I’m sure it will work out.

What did your brother break? I don’t have any younger siblings so I never have to worry about that stuff. I know how kids can be, though. Every year since freshman year I have to help coach a kids’ sports league—“volunteer” service. The kids can be punks but I actually really enjoy it. They’re fun. Wait, this started off as me commiserating with you. Kids suck. We should be born adults. Better? No, but seriously, if I had something irreplaceable and it was broken, I know I’d be mad. It’s understandable. Don’t beat yourself up about your reaction to your little brother. What was the awesome advice you gave me a few letters back? Hang in there. Chin up. Also, that song you made me listen to a few letters back, brilliant. Listen to that.

This was it. His last letter that I’d read. So it was okay to smile a little at the contents of it. But then remembering his “fluent in jerk” comment the day before at lunch made me angry again. Then rereading the letter made me soften. This was so messed up.

I couldn’t help but wonder how he was doing. We’d spent the last few letters talking about me. I wondered if he hoped every holiday season that his dad would call. What an awful feeling to be abandoned like that by someone who is supposed to love you. And here I was, preparing to abandon him.