You Should See Me in a Crown(53)
She stops midway down the staircase when she sees me standing near the door. “Oh, Liz! I hope you’re here to discuss strategy because—”
“I didn’t come here for prom.” I cut her off quickly as I follow her up the stairs. “We need to talk.”
When we get to Gabi’s room, things look exactly as they always have, but everything feels different. The air around us has shifted.
“Okay.” She drags out the word as she sits down on her bed. I shut the door behind me with a click. “What’s going on?”
“What is wrong with you?” I say quickly. “Were you ever going to tell me that you’re the reason Jordan didn’t talk to me for four years? Even though you knew how bad losing his friendship messed me up?”
“Nothing is wrong with me. I should be asking what’s wrong with you.” She points at me defensively. “Do you know how much damage control I had to run after Jordan came back inside with your vomit all over his hoodie?”
“Don’t do that thing where you try and turn everything back around on me. I deserve an explanation.”
“I’m not turning anything around on you! You are behaving completely out of character!” She stands up and throws her hands in the air. “You have secret girlfriends, you’re not listening to anything I’m saying, and getting to Pennington is the furthest thing from your mind! For someone so concerned with her privacy, you sure are getting messy.”
I can’t tell if she’s trying to throw me off her case or if she really is as flustered as she looks. She’s always in full hair and makeup by this time of day. But now she’s wearing joggers, and sure they’re the stylish kind from H&M, but she never wears sweatpants.
“Why didn’t you tell me that Jordan was trying to reach out to me freshman year? And why did you start that stupid hashtag on Campbell Confidential last night even though you know nothing is going on between us?”
“I started the hashtag because you needed help, Liz. If I was able to see how close you and that girl were getting, anybody could have seen you! You needed to throw people off before rumors got out of hand and tanked your chances at winning.”
Which, okay, absolutely sucks but is sort of reasonable in a twisted, catastrophically unethical way.
“What about Jordan, Gabi? Explain that.”
She looks away. “That was a long time ago.”
She’s not denying it. She’s not denying that she had anything to do with the letter. Oh no.
“Yeah, well, it’s new information to me, so let’s talk about it anyway.”
“You used to be so obsessed with each other,” she hurries out.
“Don’t tell me this is because you were jealous of our friendship? You can’t be serious.”
“You don’t get it! You were my best friend, my only friend for our entire lives. When my parents used to fight, I could always turn to you.” She crosses her arms over her chest. “And then what? Jordan Jennings comes along in middle school, and all of a sudden, it’s like you didn’t even care anymore. My family isn’t great like yours, Liz. You were my family. And I thought I had lost you!”
She stops pacing to look directly at me. Her eyes are wet like she’s trying and failing to keep herself from crying.
“And then he embarrassed you like that freshman year, and you were so crushed. I hated seeing you like that. And when he came to me to apologize, I just knew you would forgive him and then I’d be alone again and he would eventually hurt you again. It just seemed like the only …”
But I’m not listening anymore. I can’t hear anything else she’s saying. Not after that. My best friend sold me out, kept me from being able to repair one of my most important relationships, and lied to me about it for four entire years. Four years of fear of ever being humiliated like that again, of forcing myself to the fringes, hiding in the tiny protective bubble of my friends and band and my family. Four years of tanked self-esteem, when I was afraid to wear my hair a certain way for fear of standing out and making myself too visible. Four years of second-guessing myself every time I answered a question in class, because I didn’t want to seem too smart or too bold or too much of anything. Four years of shrinking away and thinking that I wasn’t good enough, thinking that Jordan ran away because he wanted to be in the realm of people who are everything that I’m not.
I’m fumbling with the doorknob, trying to get out. But Gabi is still talking.
“Lizzie, please! You have to forgive me. I—I tried to get you and him back together, didn’t I?”
I stop. Because isn’t that just the icing on the cake?
“You didn’t do anything but screw me over, Gabi.” I whip around quickly and can’t even find it in myself to feel bad about her red cheeks and runny nose. I’m so angry, so tired. And I’m crying too, because none of this should be the way it is. It’s not fair. “All this time, you made me feel like being me was something to be embarrassed about. Like it would take all kinds of tricks and strategies and changes to who I am and the way I look to get people to vote for me. To care about me. And I deserve better from my best friend than that.”
I finally pull open the door and step through it. I’ve learned all the ways to keep my head down, to hide, to make myself scarce. But I never really learned how to say when enough is enough. Until now.