What I Like About You

by Marisa Kanter

  I close my eyes. Breathe. “I’ll think about it.”

  Gramps nods. “Okay.”

  I stand up, certain that this too-real conversation is over for now.

  “One more thing, Hal,” Gramps says, and my butt reglues itself to the kitchen chair. “It’s about BookCon. I’ve thought about this, um, a lot. And as much as I want to be at your panel, I can’t do it. I just … I’m not ready yet, I’m afraid.”

  I swallow. “Okay.”

  “I’m sorry, Hal. I’ll accompany you to New York, of course. But I don’t want you to think—”

  I shake my head. “I promise I don’t.”

  “I’m proud of you. Mir would be too, you know.”

  “Gramps. Stop it. I’m blushing.”

  “I only speak truth.”

  I stand up, transferring the dirty bowls from the table to the sink. “I screwed up. Bad.”

  “Everyone screws up. Let me be proud.”

  I point to my flaming cheeks. “Nope. Stop it.”

  He sighs. “Fine. You’re the worst. Please tell me there are cupcakes on the counter.”

  Of course the cupcake container is freshly stocked with Maple Street Sweets cupcakes. Sawyer baked this batch himself, and they’re almost as good as mine. “Red velvet or vanilla and chocolate?”

  Gramps narrows his eyes at me. “What do you think?”

  “Cream cheese frosting?”

  He nods. “Cream cheese frosting.”

  May 28

  Mom

  Just submitted the waiver for Ollie. I can’t take him to LA with us just because I miss him. You’re right. Thanks for making me listen last night.

  4:39 PM

  Mom! I’m SO glad.

  4:47 PM

  it’ll also selfishly be nice that ollie will only be a train ride away. i wish you were only a train ride away …

  4:48 PM

  Mom

  I know, babe. But you’ll be thanking me in December when you’re visiting us during winter break!!!

  4:49pm

  Dad

  4:50pm

  that’s definitely true

  4:52pm

  Mom

  we’ll celebrate when we see you! two more weeks until graduation. i cannot wait to give you a hug! warning: i might never let go.

  4:53pm

  Dad

  4:55pm

  ???

  4:57pm

  TWENTY-SIX

  So.” Elle taps absentmindedly on her desk. “What are we going to do about Nash?”

  It’s the fifth time I’ve talked to my friends—and each time we feel closer to okay. I wish I had joined the video chats years ago. I hate how much I’ve missed. Amy’s had to cut back on the booktubing, because as it turns out, biochemistry is a ridiculous major. She spends most of her time in the library studying, and can’t remember the last time she’s read a book for fun. Elle’s currently working on an R&R, a revise and resubmit, for an editor at a major publishing house—which is taking up all her free time. Samira has won some local photography awards for the pictures she’s taken for her school newspaper.

  It’s so nice, this new normal: sitting back and listening to my friends talk about their own lives and their own drama. Until it inevitably circles back to me.

  “I don’t know,” I admit. “He’s so mad.”

  “He’s mad because he’s heartbroken!” Amy says.

  “It’s been almost six weeks, Amy,” I say. “I miss him so much. But he still won’t even look at me. I might have to accept that it’s over.”

  “I refuse to believe that,” Samira says.

  “Not that we’d know,” Elle says.

  Besides updating REX, Nash has otherwise been pretty off the grid.

  “You need an apology strategy,” Amy says. “I’m thinking big and grand gesture-y, just so we’re clear.”

  “Super grand gesture-y.” Samira nods.

  “I—” I’m cut off by a knock on my door. “One sec.”

  Gramps pokes his head in as I press mute on my mic.

  “Hey, Hal. You’ve got some visitors downstairs.”

  I frown, confused. “Really?”

  “I told them you’d be right down.”

  Gramps is gone before I can even ask who’s here.

  I unmute my mic. “Sorry, guys. I need to run. But re: grand gesture … I am open to anything.”

  “Don’t give us that much power,” Elle says.

  “We’ll think of something,” Samira says.

  “Later, Halle/Kels,” Amy says.

  I shut my laptop and head downstairs feeling the weirdest mix of nausea and hopefulness.

  “Hey.”

  Molly and Autumn are at the bottom of the stairs, waiting for me. Here. At Gramps’s. We haven’t spoken words to one another since before I broke their best friend’s heart.

  “Can we sit?” Autumn asks.

  “We’re going to sit,” Molly says.

  I nod. But I’m so confused.

  They hate me.

  They’re Team Nash. I accepted it weeks ago. I lied to them, too.

  I swallow. “Hi.”

  Silence.

  Molly and Autumn look at each other.

  Then at me.

  Then back at each other.

  “Hi?” Autumn asks. “Seriously, Hal?”

  “Where is our explanation? We’ve been waiting”—Molly looks down at her smartwatch—“six weeks.”

  I blink. “What?”

  “You didn’t answer our texts,” Autumn says.

  “You didn’t defend Cordelia during yesterday’s Socratic seminar,” Molly says.

  “You pick the real sport option in gym just to avoid us,” Autumn says.

  “We can continue,” Molly assures me.

  “You iced me at school,” I say. “I thought—”

  “Us?” Autumn frowns. “We reached out. You’re the one who disappeared.”

  They’re right. I don’t speak at all during the King Lear unit even though King Lear is epic. I do choose all the terrible gym activities—basketball, ring hockey, soccer—even though I can’t sport. I have bruises all over my body to prove it.

  And they did reach out first. I never answered their texts. But when they didn’t talk to me in class I just assumed it wouldn’t change anything. I thought I was making it easier by avoiding them. I thought that’s what they wanted.

  “Hal,” Autumn says, “talk to us. Please? What’s going on?”

  I want them to yell at me. I want to be chewed out.

  They just wait to listen and I don’t deserve that.

  “Didn’t he already tell you everything?”

  I can’t even say his name.

  “Nash is hardly saying anything,” Molly says.

  “He’s miserable,” Autumn says. “Kind of, well, like you.”

  I chew on my lower lip. “I figured you’d hate me.”

  “Well, you don’t get to just mess up and disappear!” Molly yells.

  Autumn nods. “We tried to give you some space, because we saw a lot of the Twitter stuff. But yeah, that’s not how this works.”

  “I’ve tried texting him and—”

  Molly rolls her eyes. “I’m not talking about Nash. I’m talking about us—your two most awesome lady friends? Hello? I mean, we are friends, right? Because we have tried so freaking hard to be your friend, Halle.”

  I drum my fingers against my thigh. “Right.”

  Autumn laughs. “Convincing.”

  “You’re supposed to be Team Nash,” I say.

  Molly’s nose scrunches, confused. “Team—? Halle, this isn’t The Hunger Games. Nash is my best friend, so of course I’d be lying if I said I’m not pissed for him.”

  “Honestly? I’m pissed for me, too,” Autumn says. “I can’t believe you’ve just been lying to all of us like that. We knew about Kels. We knew how Nash felt about Kels. We told you. And you just—acted like it didn’t matter.”

  “It always mattered,” I say.
“That’s why this happened. It mattered too much.”

  “So talk to us!” Molly says. “We want to hear you out. At least, I do. I want to know why you did it.”

  “He misses you, even if he’s too stubborn right now to admit it,” Autumn says.

  “We miss you too,” Molly says.

  I bite my lower lip. Hard. “Me too.”

  Over Sawyer’s cupcakes, I summarize One True Pastry’s origin story.

  It was to separate myself from my Book Famous grandmother.

  I didn’t know I’d get so popular. I didn’t know he’d become so important to me.

  I was ready to tell him myself, I swear.

  I was just scared.

  I’m sorry.

  It feels good, talking to Molly and Autumn. It probably would have felt even better if I had trusted them before it all fell apart.

  “Is there a chance of, like—will he ever forgive me?” I ask.

  Autumn shrugs. “Maybe. But he’s hurt and stubborn and the best grudge holder in the universe—even better than Molly.”

  “It’s true. When I was eight, Nash had one of those, like, motorized kid cars and he legit ran over my Barbie dream house. He felt so bad, he burst into tears. I didn’t speak to him for three months. That Chanukah, Nash got one of those fancy glass Harry Potter chess sets, right? Well, the first time we played it, I dropped a few of the pieces and Harry’s head fell right off. Nash didn’t speak to me for four months.”

  “He’s over it now,” Autumn assures me as she crumples her cupcake wrapper into a ball.

  Molly swallows a sip of water. “Barely. Nash wallows. It’s a character flaw, but he usually comes around.”

  “I didn’t break his rook, Mol,” I say.

  Autumn covers her mouth full of water with her hand—like she wants to burst into uncontrollable laughter. Water dribbles down her chin, but she manages to swallow most of it. Her hand doesn’t move from her mouth and she is silent cackling like crazy.

  Molly and I stare at her, expressions blank.

  “Am I the only one who thought that sounded dirty?” Autumn asks.

  “Clearly,” Molly says.

  “A hundred fifty percent yes,” I say.

  Our trio of laughter is loud and I know I’m still a work in progress, but I’m learning. Friendship—real friendship—isn’t easy. It’s destroying Barbie dream houses and screaming in movie theater parking lots and screwing up, sometimes badly. It’s a mess of lines drawn in the sand and questioning loyalties and answering difficult DMs. It’s making comparisons and exposing insecurities.

  But it’s also bowling by our own rules. Laughing until our stomachs cramp and tears stream down our cheeks. It’s knowing that I have people, real people, from all over the country in my pocket, always a text or tweet or lunch table away when I need them. It’s knowing the world might be a trash fire, but it’s less trash when there are people to help navigate the darkness.

  Friendship is messy. Hard. Infuriating. Awesome. Fragile. Durable. Impossible. Worth it.

  Always worth it.

  BookCon, Morning

  Elle Carter

  BOOKCON DAY. Totally wish I could be there. Kill the panel! Network! Steal all the ARCs!

  8:59 AM

  Amy Chen

  ESPECIALLY THE NEXT QUEEN OF STONE BOOK FOR YOUR BEST FRIEND WHOSE FORGIVENESS YOU’RE STILL EARNING

  9:01 AM

  Samira Lee

  Subtle, Amy. Also, pretty sure you can’t steal an arc!!

  9:02 AM

  Samira Lee

  If you don’t find Nash at the Michael Yoon panel, I stg Halle/Kels

  9:03 AM

  Elle Carter

  He’s been thinking about texting you.

  9:07 AM

  Elle Carter

  But you did NOT hear that from me!!

  9:08 AM

  Molly Jacobson

  HAPPY BOOKCON DAY! REMEMBER TO TELL US EVERYTHING PLEASE

  9:07 AM

  Autumn Williams

  spare no details, obviously

  9:09 AM

  Sawyer Davidson

  NASH WANTED TO TEXT YOU THIS AM. HAS HE?

  9:11 AM

  Molly Jacobson

  SAWYER.

  9:11 AM

  Autumn Williams

  SAWYER.

  9:12 AM

  Sawyer Davidson

  #sorrynotsorry

  9:13 AM

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  Teens and their moms flood into the Javits Center by the hundreds.

  We’re a block away, walking west on 34th Street toward 11th Avenue. Every doubt, every anxious thought I have wraps its tendrils around me in these final moments where I am cocooned by family. With Gramps on my left and Ollie on my right, I feel safe amid the rushing crowds. But I’m going to have to step away from that, from them, and enter the gigantic glass box that is Javits. I love books; I really hate crowds.

  My pulse quickens with each step that brings me closer to the chaos.

  “Can I do this?” I mumble to myself. “No, not a question. I can do this.”

  Ollie hands the cupcake container to me. Inside are two dozen BookCon-themed cupcakes. I whipped them up at two a.m. because while no one asked me to bake—it wouldn’t be One True Pastry without cupcakes. Maybe I’ll offer them to volunteers and the other members of my panel, or maybe we can raffle them off to attendees afterward. Either way, they’re the first successful batch of cupcakes I’ve baked since I started therapy two weeks ago, and I will take that small victory.

  “You can,” Ollie assures me. “If you can’t, well, you have me on speed dial.”

  I frown. “No I don’t.”

  Ollie rolls his eyes. “Metaphorically speaking. You know what I mean!”

  Now, Gramps frowns. “But don’t I have you kids on speed dial?”

  Ollie shakes his head. “Sadly, the speed dial has been reduced to metaphor status, Gramps.”

  My phone buzzes with texts from Le Crew—my Crew.

  I show Ollie the texts and for the first time, hope flutters in my stomach.

  Inside, I am going to find Nash because he can avoid me in Middleton all he wants, but he can’t avoid me at BookCon. I’ll remind him that once upon a time, he wanted to be at BookCon with Kels and, well, here I am! Here, amid the books, I will apologize for my lie—but I will also prove to Nash that I am me.

  I don’t know if he’ll forgive me, but I do know this is the best shot I’ve got.

  These texts are proof. I’ve never been more thankful that Elle and Sawyer can’t keep secrets, not if their lives depended on it. Nash knows this. So, like—if he told both of them that he was thinking about texting me, it probably means that he wanted me to know. Right? Even if he didn’t follow through.

  “You got this, Hal,” Ollie says.

  “Totally.” Gramps gives me a thumb-up.

  I laugh, because grandpas are not supposed to say “totally.”

  Ollie and Gramps hug me goodbye, leaving me alone before I have a chance to change my mind. They’re off on another bro adventure, their first of many now that Ollie gets to stay. The condition was that we’ll spend all school holidays together in L.A. Which isn’t even a condition—I was planning on doing that regardless.

  In mere moments, Gramps and Ollie blend in on the crowded sidewalks and I am alone.

  I reread the texts one more time for an adrenaline boost before pivoting to face the Javits entrance.

  Breathe.

  I go in.

  * * *

  Perks of being Halle/Kels: I skip the queue.

  The show floor is basically what heaven looks like. A maze of booths filled with books and swag. The smell of paper and ink, fresh off the presses. And tote bags. So many tote bags. I’m free to wander the floor and be an attendee until thirty minutes before the panel, when I will have to go pick up my cupcakes stored in the speakers’ lounge, meet the other panelists, and prep. Yesterday, the moderator emailed us a short list of questi
ons—so I am prepared-ish. Notecards are tucked in my back pocket, the beginnings of answers jotted down in longhand.

  I spend the morning pretending I’m at BookCon with Grams. I peruse the stands for all the major publishers and my favorite independent presses, attend ARC drops every hour, buy the newest titles released by Grams’s imprint, and keep my eyes peeled for Nash.

  I don’t know which are longer, the signing lines or the free tote bag lines, no joke.

  I catch a glimpse of Lola Daniels signing ARCs and I just about pass out because whoa. Authors are everywhere. Industry people too. Like, as I’m scanning the crowds for Nash, I look the other way and make eye contact with Kristen Ellis, an agent I follow on Twitter.

  “I think I know you from Twitter,” I say.

  Kristen raises her eyebrows. “Oh?”

  “Yeah. I’m Halle,” I hold out my hand. “From One True Pastry. Better known as Kels.”

  Recognition flashes in her eyes—thank goodness—and she takes my hand. “Oh! You did Grace Tran’s cover reveal last year. Your cupcake cakes are amazing. It’s so nice to meet you!”

  “Thank you,” I say. “Seriously.”

  “Can I get a selfie for Instagram?” Kristen asks.

  I blink, processing the fact that a literary agent wants to take a photo with me. “Of course.”

  Now that Kels has a face, there’s really no point in hiding it. We pose for the photo and Kristen tags me in her Insta story before we part ways. Wow. That was so cool.

  I was so cool.

  The Javits Center is overflowing with book lovers on a mission to attend their top panels, to meet their favorite authors. Everyone is so hyperfocused on their carefully curated schedules. I continue to explore the show floor as just a teen who loves YA, like everyone else.

  But Nash, the boy who is always everywhere, isn’t anywhere.

  At noon, I attend the Superheroes in YA panel because I’m certain he’ll attend. The conference room is packed with more than two hundred people—but as far as I can tell, not Nash. I slip out of the room before the panel starts.

  I text Sawyer.

  He is here, right? This isn’t a joke?

  12:05pm

  Sawyer Davidson

  No but that’s a good idea for next time!

  12:07pm