The Pretty One(77)

“We need to talk,” I say quietly to Simon.

Simon’s breathing a little harder than normal and there is nervousness in his eyes, the same look he had the first day of freshman year when I met him in the office during lunch. We walk back in the direction I had just come. Only this time, when I get to the end of the hall I turn toward the production studio.

“So what do you want to talk about?” Simon asks as he follows me inside the studio.

I turn on the lights and pause, taking a moment to gather my thoughts. I look at the table saw and the circular saw and the cupboards lined with turpentine and neatly stacked cans of paint. I have spent so many hours in this room, all of them happy and almost all of them working alongside Simon.

“Oh, Simon,” I say, sinking back against the wall as my nose starts to run. I wipe my nose with the back of my hand. “The past few weeks have been so awful. I wanted to talk to you about everything but I…I didn’t know how.”

Simon’s frozen still, staring into his glass of punch.

“I really do love you, I do, just not in the way…”

“Don’t!” he says, holding up his hands as if to ward me off. “What were you and Drew doing back there in the dark anyway? Did Annie catch you making out or something?”

“This isn’t all my fault,” I plead.

“I don’t believe this!” Simon yells.

“You were the one who threatened to walk away from our friendship,” I say. “You were the one who…who gave me an ultimatum.”

“Ultimatum? I told you how I felt. I was honest.”

“Honest? Then answer me this. Why were you content to be just friends when I was ugly?”

Simon’s mouth drops open, as if he’s flabbergasted by my accusation.

“I would never have done this to you,” I say. “I would never have given you an ultimatum. I would’ve been there for you. I would’ve wanted you to be happy.”

“You think I want to feel this way?”

I don’t respond.

“You think I chose this?” He drops his head. A tear falls, splattering against the blue concrete floor. “Every time I see you talking to Drew, or to any other guy for that matter, I feel like my heart is being ripped to shreds. Every time I’m with you I want to touch you. I want to kiss you. I want to show you how much I care about you.” He shakes his head as he gives me a sad smile.

“Don’t you get it, you idiot? I’m in love with you.”

He puts his hand on the door and stops. He swipes away a tear with the back of his hand, still holding on to the punch. “Let me ask you something, Megan. What about Drew? I mean, at least I was your friend before the accident.”

I want to tell him how wrong he is, how wrong I was, too. And I want to give him a tip for future reference: When you tell a girl you love her don’t call her an idiot. But instead I stand there silent, my nose running like crazy, unable to speak. But it doesn’t matter. The door is shut and Simon is already gone.





twenty-eight

break a leg (interjection): a traditional good-luck greeting between cast and crew before a performance.

The minute I step into the house I’m confronted with silence. Absolute, total silence.

“Lucy?” I call out. No answer. “Mom?” Still no answer.

I’m really hoping Lucy is here. By the time I got to the gym, big-mouthed Annie had already spilled the beans and word on the street was that my sister had left in a huff.

“Lucy?” My parents’ door is shut. I turn the knob but the door is locked.

“Lucy,” I say loudly and firmly. “We need to talk.”

Silence.

“This isn’t fair, Lucy. You didn’t even like Drew before this year. You couldn’t have cared less about him until you found out he was directing the spring musical.”

Silence.

“I’ve liked him for a long, long time. Since the first time I ever saw him.”

The door flies open. My sister is standing in front of me. I’ve never seen her like this. Her carefully coiffed updo is half down. Her eyes are red and puffy and her mascara is smeared. “You are such a liar,” she spits.

Her uncontrolled venom takes my breath away. I have never seen her so angry. “It’s true,” I say calmly. “I liked him from the first time I saw him…”

“You never ever mentioned a word about liking Drew…”

“What difference does it make? You knew how I felt about him. You had to know.”

She pauses just long enough for me to know I’m right.

“So what is this all about?” I ask. “You think you deserve him because you were the first to call dibs?”

“Are you kidding me?”

“I’m trying to understand you,” I say. Due to Lucy’s obvious state of hysteria, it’s more important than ever that I stay calm, cool, and collected. “You outright lied to me. First you tell me that he asked you to Marybeth’s party, which was a lie, then you tell me he asked you to the fall festival, which was a lie…what the hell is your problem?” A reasonable question, worthy of a reasonable answer.

“I didn’t lie! Everyone kept telling me how much he liked me and he is the one who asked me if I had a date…and even though I suggested that we all go together he seemed really happy and excited and I assumed he wanted to be with me and was just too shy…”