Sorry, Not Sorry: A Young Adult Novel

by Rachel Shane

  She stomped back to the room in a daze, squinting against the suddenly harsh lights in the room. Her hands curled into tight fists. “Let’s do this. Time to fuck Connor over.”

  Harper’s mouth was parted in shock as she and Brett huddled around her phone, which cast them in an eerie glow. She twisted toward Poe. “Actually, I’m going to call on my second favor first. We need to help Brett find Maya. There’s an app with scavenger hunt clues. Here.” Harper thrust her phone in Poe’s face with shaking fingers.

  On the screen was a riddle:

  Congrats on completing clue number one, but don’t think you’re even close to done.

  Head on over to fraternity row, where it’s time to put on a show

  Call it what you want: performance art, con, or prank. Either way, it’s time you break rank.

  Disguise yourself and talk your way inside, but don’t ever let them know you lied.

  Take a photo of something on the first floor that isn’t visible from the entryway door.

  Exit the house without getting caught and upload the pic without another thought!

  Poe gasped and the back of her neck tingled.

  “They each have they’re own unique code,” Brett said. “So I can’t see if my sister completed the rest.”

  “Which means we have to complete them too,” Harper said in an urgent voice. “Brett thinks this girl from online has been sending them, but…” She took a deep breath as if she was gearing up to say something huge, but then her shoulders deflated. “I’m not convinced.”

  Brett’s jaw feathered. “You don’t even know her.”

  Poe’s temples thumped. “Um guys. Actually…I think I sent these clues.”

  Both heads whipped toward her.

  Poe pressed a hand to her forehead, trying to remember. “It was so long ago. Holy hell. After that Comic Con adventure.” She cupped her hand over her mouth. “Brett and I were talking about going to the prospective overnight and I promised him we’d do something fun and not lame that night, so I thought it would be hilarious to set this up. I even read the stupid book you guys were talking about that night and based it off that.”

  The wounded look on Brett’s face pricked his heart. “But…I just got the email?”

  Poe nodded. “Yeah, the app let me schedule them in advance to arrive in April of this year. Fuck. I totally forgot I did this.”

  Brett stumbled back a few steps, crashing into the couch. He plunked down with a heaviness that sent the cushions bouncing. “So…it wasn’t her.”

  Harper’s brows knitted together and she turned to Poe. “Can you log into your account and tell us which ones Maya’s completed? Maybe we can find her that way.”

  “Let me try.” Poe clicked the sign in button and tried a few combinations of usernames and passwords. All came up with a big red X. “Shit. I don’t remember my stupid credentials and I signed up with a fake email so you wouldn’t know it was from me.”

  “That means you can’t recover your password, I’m guessing.” Harper straightened. “So we have to do this the old fashioned way. With a little hard work.” She waved the other two forward.

  When the trio exited the hotel, it was as reluctant allies.

  CHAPTER 25

  POE

  One Year Ago

  Everything glittered.

  Sparkly blue curtains flanked the stage at the back of the room. Shimmery white tablecloths and silver edged plates looked like they belonged at a White House correspondence dinner. Blue water glowed in the giant oblong aquarium lining the walls, exotic fish of all colors swimming calmly as music raged around them. The fancy ballroom at a local hotel was the most luxurious room Poe had ever stepped foot in.

  A silver balloon arch hung over the refreshment table like a tiara over the evening. Even Harper’s dress, a long cobalt blue number that hugged her curves and caught the light from every angle, featured delicate Swarovski crystals that must have been sewn on by thousands of people. It was the kind of dress that would turn heads at the Academy Awards. It was the kind of dress that Poe could never even fathom affording.

  Harper’s dressed matched Brett’s vest and bow tie perfectly, but the best part of his outfit was the superhero shirt hidden beneath the buttons of his tux and two little googly eyes wobbling on his bow tie. He strategically opened a few buttons, revealing only a swatch of the Superman logo, but it was enough for him to straddle both identities, the hero and the guy behind the mask. The matching outfits had been Harper’s idea but it had been Poe’s execution thanks to her experience putting together costumes for the various school plays and community theater productions.

  Poe rolled her eyes at Brett behind his back at the way he beamed at his date. She’d always suspected he had a crush on Harper from the way he followed her around like a puppy dog, lapping up any love she could give. There was a time when Poe felt like an equal to Harper, someone who bonded with Brett over their single mom syndrome. Poe used to feel like she held half of Brett’s heart in a friendship way, the first F in BFF. Somehow Harper had managed to steal both the B and the last F, best and forever, making Poe more like a third wheel than the Steel rod that kept the gears in place. This feeling ate away at her skin, rotting until it decayed.

  Ever since she’d slept with Harper’s little brother, she had a hard time looking her in the face. Whenever she did, a cold, crackling sensation unfurled in her gut, guilt seeping into her veins little by little until she wrenched over at night, gasping for breath in the solitude of her tiny attic loft. She covered every mirror in her house so she didn’t have to face the girl that glared back at her. Sex was supposed to be an escape but this time it felt like a prison. She couldn’t look at Brett either, because whenever she did, he shot her a face filled with what could only be described as disappointment. Or maybe horror. Whatever it was, she deserved it.

  And so in a desperate effort to avoid looking at them, she glanced to her left. At her date. And nearly crumbled to pieces right there. Jackson wore the goofiest of smiles, so wide it was having trouble fitting on his thin, boyish face. The fumbling, awkwardness of him that had once seemed so endearing was now gone, replaced with a sort of cockiness he didn’t quite have a handle on yet, like an understudy taking the stage for a role he hadn’t practiced enough. He was donning a lottery winning smile, the kind of smile someone only ever wore when they were the luckiest fucking person on earth.

  Poe flinched at the warm press of Jackson’s palm landing on her bare back. She cursed her low-cut dress, plucked from a thrift store bargain sale rack. It was too tight in all the wrong places—the places that would have been considered right to her pre-Jackson. She readjusted, desperately trying to pull down the black fabric so the risqué cut outs on the side covered the patch of exposed skin Jackson had claimed as his own. She’d been so proud when she’d picked out the dress long before she even had a date or a conscience. It was the perfect Poe-statement, a big old fuck you to the dress codes demanding certain width of straps and length of skirts. But no one said anything about diamond-shaped cut outs that raced up both her sides. It had taken her weeks to save for the dress and now she couldn’t wait to go home and destroy it. The night hadn’t even begun and already she wanted to forget it.

  “Wanna dance?” Jackson jerked his head to the crowded floor, where people gyrated their hips, their dresses shimmering among all the silver in the room. The way he said it seemed like he was offering foreplay, not a hip shake.

  Poe glanced at the doorway, Option B, run far far away from her date and this night and her past. Her legs geared up to make the escape, leaning into a runner’s stretch. But if she fled now, she would make a scene. People would ask questions. Rumors would fly. Her secret would leak out of her pores and into the lips of her peers. She straightened and took a tentative step toward the parquet wood square. Normal. She had to act normal, if only for a few hours. Until the end of the night when she’d tell him it was over, even though nothing had ever really started. Jackson was just a
notch on a long list of guys she never saw again. “Fine, but only because I don’t want to stand here like an idiot.”

  Jackson beamed as if he had heard something else between her words: a pick up line.

  She tried not to cringe as she placed her hands on his sweaty shoulders, a few feet away from where Brett and Harper were swaying to a slow ballad. Brett’s hands gripped her waist desperately, as if he couldn’t bear the possibility of letting go, and she even rested her head on his shoulder, her eyes closed. The song abruptly changed to a fast beat and Harper snapped up. She whispered something in Brett’s ear and his entire face fell. He nodded. She squeezed his shoulder one time before departing and leaving him standing all alone on the dance floor, watching her go.

  Across the way, Connor fucking Cunningham abandoned his own date—some chick from another school. Probably the only person dumb enough to go with him without any clue to his smarmy pastimes. In some circles, the asshole was regarded as king, but Poe didn’t like those circles. They had a penchant for failing tests, both the academic and the common sense kind.

  Poe let out a sharp breath when the melodies pumped up to skittish, fast beats, and she wrenched her body away from Jackson’s and jutted her hips left and right, dancing, but with a clear space of distance between them. Brett stood there on the floor awkwardly for two full songs, bodies pushing him left and right, his eyes locked on the door.

  “Want me to check on her?” Poe shimmied over to him, if only because it put more distance between her and Jackson. And also because she had to keep things casual between her and Brett. He was like a grenade: dormant unless provoked. One small ounce of pressure and boom. Her heart would burst into an array of shrapnel.

  Brett shoulders heaved with a sigh. “You don’t want to do that, trust me.”

  Poe squinted at him. “Why not?”

  Brett rubbed his fists against his closed eyes. “Just go back to your fuck buddy and ignore it.”

  “Whoa.” Poe’s stomach wound up like a fist. “Shut. Up.” She ground the words out between clenched teeth. “You’re acting like an ass out of nowhere. Do you have a problem with me or something?”

  A grimace tightened Brett’s lips. “Not out of nowhere and not just you. I have a problem with everything right now and you and Jackson—”

  Poe grabbed the bottom of Brett’s jacket in clenched knuckles, jerking him toward her so hard, he stumbled. When he looked at her, his eyes were so wild and scared, Poe dropped his jacket and lifted her hands in the air. I surrender.

  “You know what?” Brett shook his head. “I’m done. I can’t do this anymore.”

  “Do what?” This time, the word fled from Poe’s lips in a whisper. Coldness was already racing up her spine, bracing for impact.

  “Be the guy everyone uses.” He pinched the bridge of his nose.

  Just then, Harper waltzed through the door, readjusting her dress. A flush spread across her cheeks and her perfect hair was now coming out of her up-do. A tingle started in Poe’s spine. Brett was spouting nonsense but it was starting to make perfect sense. Poe could see it in the way Brett’s gaze locked on her, and then cringed, like he couldn’t stomach looking at Harper either. “Where. Was. She?”

  Brett’s eyes were a challenge. “The same place you were. At the other end of betrayal.”

  Poe’s breath came in big gulps as she tried to decipher Brett’s words and ace his test.

  Connor entered the room a few steps behind Harper, his cocky swagger exaggerated. He brushed past Harper, his hand reaching out to squeeze her waist for the briefest of seconds. A secret smile flew to her lips and then dropped off immediately as the two of them parted ways, heading out to opposite ends of the dance floor.

  Oh. My. God.

  Brett didn’t need to say it but he said it anyway. “You and Jackson. Harper and Connor.” He sagged in relief once the words were out of his mouth but the same gust of wind he blew from his lungs whirled up into a tornado, sweeping Poe up in a cyclone of rage.

  Harper and Connor? The image of the two of them echoed in Poe’s head like a ping pong balls bouncing off walls, rattling her entire being. It was a betrayal. It was idiocy. It was the worst thing Harper could have done.

  It was unforgivable.

  Poe stomped toward Harper, elbowing dancers out of the way and practically mowing down Assistant Principal Velasquez. The sound of her feet marching across the floor ricocheted throughout the entire room, louder than the thump of bass. Harper lifted her hand in a wave to Poe, but then dropped it to her side at the sight of Poe’s face.

  “What the fuck is wrong with you?” Poe shouted so loud, gasps rang out from dancers nearby. The song switched to a slow ballad just in time for Poe’s voice to carry throughout the room.

  Harper stumbled back a step, her mouth opening in confusion. “With me?”

  “Connor’s the worst scum on earth.” Poe practically spat her words, jabbing her finger toward Connor.

  Harper’s eyes skidded to the crowd. To Brett, who had his head ducked in shame a few feet away. Her mouth parted. “He’s not actually,” she said in a meek voice. “He’s changed.” She stomped past Poe, knocking into her shoulder.

  Poe raced after her and students hopped out of the way to make a path. Harper may have been the soccer star but adrenaline increased Poe’s speed. She circled around Harper and moved into her line of sight, forcing Harper to look at her. “He’s a liar and a fucking felon! Sending a sext is a crime!”

  “He didn’t actually send it,” Harper said, her voice growing more insistent even though they both knew the only reason he didn’t send it was because Harper herself had robbed him of the chance.

  Poe’s hands clenched into fists. “Please,” she begged Harper. “Get away from him. He’s just using you. He’s—”

  “He’s the one I want.” Harper rose to her full height and stared Poe down in a challenging way.

  Harper’s words drove a chill down Poe’s spine. She sucked down a deep breath, shaking her head at the friend she didn’t even know anymore. Her heart cracked in two, each side belonging to a friend that had betrayed her. Harper by seeing the one guy who tried to fuck Poe over and Brett for condoning it and not bothering to tell Poe in time to stop it from getting worse. “Well, I guess your stupid book series makes sense now,” Poe spat. “Enjoy the dark side.” She swiveled on her heels. Hot tears pressed against the back of her eyes, but she refused to lose this battle until she could let the cool night air seize her.

  She swatted away teachers like beach balls, barreling through their barricade. Each stomp of her feet sent an earthquake shattering her heart. The gaze of hundreds of onlookers bore into her from every direction, but she kept her face forward. Her head high. Her gaze focused on the exit, which was right next to where the coward hid by the refreshment table. Her escape. From this situation. From this volatile friendship.

  Students skidded out of Poe’s way, but heavy heels clacked in her wake. Poe spun around just in time to see Harper running toward her, her face a mess of tears.

  “Please,” Harper pleaded, her voice soft. “Let me explain. Connor’s not the same person he was before.” With each word, her voice grew more insistent, like she was trying to convince herself as much as Poe. “You need to understand. You—”

  Poe stopped short, arms crossed. “No. You need to understand that you don’t care about me at all if you’d ever give him anything more than a middle finger.” She shook her head and let out a self-deprecating laugh. “You didn’t even have the balls to tell me!”

  Harper pressed her palms against her eyes, her shoulders rattling. She twisted, this time turning toward Brett as if she couldn’t face Poe anymore or provide a reasonable excuse for her actions. “We had a deal!”

  A muscle in Brett’s jaw tightened. “She needed to know. Just like you need to know that—”

  “No!” Poe shouted. “Don’t you dare.”

  But Brett was armed with ammunition and he sprayed it with the force
of an assault rifle. “Poe slept with your brother.”

  He said it with no inflection. No emotion. Just the facts. Like he was an investigative reporter listing bullet points in an exposé. The words were like a clog in a drain suddenly whooshing free, everything flowing in a rush of pressure. It was a relief, the burden gone from his face.

  Harper’s face elongated, the rage clenching her jaw stretching out until her mouth hung on a hinge and her eyes drooped, filling with tears instantly. “You—what?!” she wailed, and Poe cringed all over again.

  Whispers were already flying through the crowd. A few feet away, Jackson straightened, awkwardly waving at the people gaping at him. Across the room, Connor winked. It was too late to take the confession back. Poe had to own it. “Well. An eye for an eye, I guess.”

  Harper let out a battle cry so loud and fierce, Poe’s instinct was to duck. Just in time too because Harper heaved the heavy glass punch bowl off the refreshment table and dumped it over Poe’s head. Cold pink liquid chilled Poe to the core, dripping over every inch of her. She’d planned on getting rid of the dress but now it was ruined. And it was Harper’s fault.

  Poe curled her hands into claws, ready to do something more than lob insults. As she charged at Harper, she slipped on the spilled punch. Her entire body skidded into Brett, who lost his balance and crashed directly into the table. It wobbled, and then collapsed from their shared weight, taking the balloon arch down with it. Each burst of a balloon sounded like gunfire popping in Poe’s soul.

  The crowd grew restless, starting to push in, but before they could, Poe grabbed a handful of vanilla cake and hurled it at Harper. She smashed some in Brett’s face too. Without hesitation, Harper lifted a tray of mini hot dogs and threw them at Poe and Brett, one by one.

  Within seconds, the rest of the crowd joined in, grabbing appetizers, desserts, and even dinners being placed down on the tables on the outskirts. Chicken breasts and cupcakes sailed through the air. Blue icing landed in Jackson’s hair. Balsamic vinaigrette dripped from Brett’s chin. The teachers scrambled around, making desperate pleas to stop before getting hit in the face with projectile roasted potatoes.