Puddin'(70)

“That’s a lot of pressure,” I joke. “I wouldn’t say I’m a shining example of a good friend. I guess I’ll have to step up my friend skills.”

Mitch shakes his head, his teeth tugging on his bottom lip. “Maybe.” But his voice sounds doubtful.

“Hey, about hanging out . . .” The words are out of my mouth before I can stop myself. “You want to go out sometime or something?” I try to keep my voice even, but I’m not used to really putting myself out there like this, and it’s got me sweating.

“Like on a date? I—I thought you were grounded.”

“I was. I am. Still. Kind of. But then not really.”

“Uhhh . . .”

I almost shout, “WHAT’S THERE TO THINK ABOUT?”

Then he says, “I think, um . . . I don’t think that’d be a good idea right now.”

I nod, but inside I’m shriveling up. No one has ever just rejected me like that. Why did he even bother asking me out awhile back if he was going to change his mind? “Okay. Well, uh, good luck hiding out?”

“You too,” he says.

The pep rally isn’t over yet, but I’m sure as hell not hanging out under these bleachers with him now.

I turn on my heel and take the exit right outside the bleachers into the hallway.

Maybe Bryce told him some horrible lie about me. Or even worse, maybe he told Mitch a horrible truth about me. It could be that Mitch just changed his mind all on his own, I guess. He asked me out at the gym in the moment, so maybe he’s had time to come to his senses since then.

I think I might want something I can’t have, and that’s not a feeling I’m used to.

After school, while I’m waiting outside for my mom to wrap up a few things, I plop down in the grass with my legs crossed and scroll through my phone to delete old pictures of Bryce and me. Time for some long-overdue housekeeping. Seeing him at school is awful enough.

“Didn’t see you at the pep rally today.”

I look up, shielding my eyes, until Melissa comes into focus. She still wears her Shamrock uniform, but her hat is stuffed into her tote bag and she’s ditched the boots for flip-flops.

“Oh, I think you saw me.” I lift my hand up to give her the middle finger. “This jogging your memory?”

“Ah,” she says. “That’s more like it. I didn’t recognize you without your shitty attitude.”

I grin. “Never leave home without it.”

“You know, I actually feel bad for you.” She shakes her head, an incredulous look on her face.

“Wow, that’s so generous of you, but I’m good without your misguided pity.”

She continues, “Whatever moral fiber you have is so flimsy that you would just dump the deepest, darkest secrets of people you once called friends.”

“Friends?” I ask. “You mean acquaintances who let me take the fall for something we all did?”

“Maybe keep it down?” she asks, looking around.

“Nope.” I shake my head. “And besides, no one got in trouble for any of that stuff.”

“You don’t even get it. Maybe no one got in trouble, but you really humiliated some of those girls. Sam and Jess are both mortified. Natalie, Lara, and Addison are all in serious trouble at home. You really screwed everyone over. I mean, Bethany came to school the next day to a locker full of Q-tips.”

“How horrific,” I say, voice flat.

She shakes her head, her voice dropping low. “Just so you know, my sister got wind of that list, too. She’s not even talking to me right now. I’m not allowed to go to my niece’s birthday party.”

Up until now I was fine, but I have to admit that this one gets me in the gut. But I’m determined not to let it show. I almost blurt an apology, but instead I sit there, unmoving. I’ve never been that great of a sister, but the idea of Kyla or Claudia finding out I’d done something like that to them makes me feel a little bit nauseous.

“Whatever, Callie. You’re off the team, you lost captain, and you’re a shitty human being. I guess that’s enough to live with.” She walks off to where Sam and the rest of the team are waiting for her at the track.

The moment she walks off, I push my sunglasses up the bridge of my nose to let them conceal the tears burning at the corners of my eyes. Anger, guilt, shame. They all bubble to the surface at once.





Millie


Twenty-Five


After work one night, I drag Callie to the Crafty Corner to pick up upholstery fabric my mom special-ordered to redo our curtains this summer.

She shuffles in behind me with her nose glued to her phone. “What are you looking at?” I ask as I pull her just out of the way seconds before meeting a pincushion display head-on.

She shakes her head and huffs. “Just waiting for the stupid results from the state dance competition.”

“Oh.” There’s that guilt again, sticking to the inside of my lungs like August humidity. “How are they doing?”

“I don’t know yet. This website is so damn slow.” Her voice changes as she takes in our surroundings.

One entire wall at the Crafty Corner is dedicated to yarn, while the main floor is rows and rows of every type of fabric you can imagine, and on the other side of the store is everything from raw wood dollhouse supplies to glitter paint to scrapbooking scissors.