I give myself ten more minutes. Ten more minutes to cry, and then I’ll go back inside the tent and pretend to be happy.
I am not Kiri. I am Analee, the strongest human in the world. And I fear nothing—not even fear itself.
When I wipe my eyes, a glop of eyeliner, mascara, and whatever else Liz slathered on my face smears onto my hand.
“Oye.” I turn and see Dad coming over to me, treading sand. “I’ve been looking for you.”
I try to clean the makeup off my face, but I have a feeling I’ve only shifted it around.
“Sorry,” I say, in my pitiful attempt at a lighthearted voice. “Just needed some air.”
He sits down next to me. I feel him studying my face. Even as it gets dark out, there must be no hiding the fact that my face looks like a Jackson Pollock painting.
“¿Qué carajo hizo él?” he demands, which roughly translates to “What the fuck did he do?”
“It wasn’t him.”
“Don’t protect him, Analee.”
“I swear, Dad,” I say. I can’t keep the misery from seeping out of me now. “I broke up with him.”
“Why? He pressured you?”
“No.”
“Hurt you?”
“No.”
There’s some unintelligible muttering on his end.
“It just wasn’t the time for us,” I say.
God, I wish it were. I so wish I were at a place where I was ready to give myself away to someone.
“Raf? You ready to cut the cake?” I recognize Harlow’s voice behind me, but I don’t turn around. Oh God. What do I look like right now? I can’t go back in there like this. I’ll ruin all of Harlow’s perfect wedding pictures. Liz will throw a drunken fit when she sees her makeover success story turned into a complete wreck.
There’s a long pause. I can almost feel Dad and Harlow communicating with their eyes.
“What?” Avery’s voice comes from out of nowhere. Again . . . oh God. It just gets worse. I didn’t know she was here too. Like I need an audience right now. I hide my face between my knees. “What’s wrong with Analee?”
Harlow lifts the skirt of her dress and sits on the sand next to me, her legs pressing against mine. I’m sandwiched between her and Dad.
“You’re going to ruin your dress,” I say to her from between my knees.
“It’s okay. Your dad’s stuck with me now, sandy butt and all.”
She doesn’t ask about Seb. Or what happened to me. She just rubs my back, left to right, in a slow, rhythmic motion. It’s exactly what I need. I start to cry again, my head still buried in my legs.
“Why is everyone being weird and not talking?” Avery blurts out. “What’s going on?”
“Analee is feeling sad,” Harlow says to her in a hushed voice.
“Oh.”
I feel Avery’s tiny hand pat me on the head. Harlow scoots over so that Avery can squeeze in between us. She rests her head against my arm. I expect a comment about my makeup or a question about Seb, but even Avery manages to stay quiet. It’s a miracle of miracles.
“You guys should get back to the wedding,” I say. I take a breath and lift my head, which is an action suddenly requiring all of my physical strength.
“We are the wedding,” Dad says. “Everyone else can wait.”
“You take all the time you need,” Harlow adds.
No one moves to get up. Not even Avery, who usually has the attention span of a fruit fly.
I wonder what I’ll take away from tonight when I look back at this wedding years from now. Seb’s revelation? Or the hours I spent trying to get ahold of him before the ceremony? Shaky hands and deep breaths as I made it through my toast? Dad’s face when he saw Harlow in her perfect dress?
I think I’ll remember all of it, in snippets and foggy details. The good and the bad, the uplifting and the soul-crushing. But this moment, right now . . . this will be the part that sticks out to me the most. The four of us, my new, ever-evolving family, sitting on the sand together and staring up at the stars.
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
“WELL. I, FOR ONE, AM never watching one of his soccer games again,” Elliott declares weeks later at lunch.
He, Jared, and I have claimed a table in the back of the cafeteria. Seb is sitting with Chloe and Matt near the front.
“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” I say. I take a bite of the lunch Harlow made me—butternut squash and quinoa salad. She’s trying out a bunch of recipes in the hopes of writing a cookbook. I chew thoroughly, making a mental note to tell her it needs something sweet. Maybe some dried fruit or honey.
I’ve gotten to the point where I can look at Seb without wanting to burst into tears. I can even talk about him to Elliott and Jared. They don’t know the details of our relationship, but they know enough.
“He’s only saying that because soccer season’s over,” Jared says, rolling his eyes.
“You don’t need to pretend to give up soccer for me, Elliott,” I reply. “And anyway, we don’t hate Seb, remember?”
“You don’t hate Seb,” Elliott corrects. Jared shoots him a wary glance, and Elliott raises his eyebrows in response. I suddenly feel like an outsider observing a private conversation.
“What was that?” I ask.
“What?” Elliott says innocently.
“That look you just gave each other.” I put my fork down. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing,” they both answer in unison, much too quickly.
“Guys. The anti-Seb movement is out of control today.”
Jared lets out a sigh. “There have been . . . rumors.”
“About?”
“Seb. And . . . Chloe.”
“They’re back together?” I guess. The truth is, I was expecting this. Seb and I haven’t spoken since the wedding. He and Chloe have been eating lunch together every day, and I’ve seen a nonfat vanilla latte in her hand every morning before class.
Still, it hurts to hear my suspicions confirmed. It hurts a lot.
Elliott reaches across the table for my hand. “I’m sorry, Analee. We wanted to tell you, but we didn’t know when we should. You’ve been doing so well.”
The resurgence of Chleb tells me everything I needed to know. I take a long look at Seb. He’s talking animatedly, giving off his usual aura of charm and confidence. Basking in the adoration of his fans. And it’s all monumentally fake. Underneath the facade I see a scared little boy who is afraid of losing his legions. Because the worst possible thing, in Seb’s eyes, is to go through life by himself. It makes me feel a tad bit sorry for him. Of course, this is well underneath a lot of anger and rage I’m still working through with the help of my new therapist and Harlow’s daily yoga routines.
“It’s okay,” I reply. “I’m okay. He needs to figure things out for himself.”
“Just know most of the students are behind you,” Elliott says. “Team Analee all the way.”
“Oh God, no. Please shut that down.”
“But I was going to make T-shirts,” Elliott says with big puppy-dog eyes.
“Elliott. I will end you.”
“Fine,” he says grumpily. “But can I just make one for myself and wear it in private?”
“No.”
“What if—” Then he turns quiet, his eyes lifting to somewhere above my head. Jared follows suit.
An instantly recognizable voice above me says, “Sorry to interrupt . . .”
I turn around, and holy crap.
It’s Lily.
Hovering over me, looking every bit as uncomfortable as I now feel.
“Hi,” I say dumbly.
“Hi. . . . Can we talk?”
Jared picks his food up from the table. “We were just leaving. Come on, Elliott.”
They hurry out of the cafeteria, even though Elliott is only half-finished with his sandwich. The two of them shoot a last curious look behind them before slipping past the doors.
“May I?” Lily grips the chair next to min
e. The question depresses me. The old Lily would never have to ask.
I nod, and she sits down, stiff and straight-backed. We look like proper ladies who lunch. We’re just missing the white gloves and tea cozies.
“How are you?” she asks.
“Uh . . . fine. You?”
“Fine. . . . How was the wedding?”
“It was . . . also fine,” I say. I’m so not good at this. Lily knows I’m not good at this. I can’t pretend that it’s normal for the two of us to sit here and make small talk, two people who used to share everything and have shared nothing for months.
“And how about your dad? And Harlow?” she asks. “Everyone good?”
“Lil . . .”
She slumps back in her chair and exhales like she’s been holding her breath. “Sorry. I forgot how to do this with you.”
“Why are you doing this with me?”
She bites down on her thumbnail. It’s an old-school Lily move. She’s nervous.
Then she looks at me. “Why didn’t you ever tell me what Colton did on the night of Gabrielle’s party?”
Of the top five things I would expect Lily to say to me, that one didn’t make the cut. We had an unspoken agreement, Lily and me. Never discuss the Incident. Sweep it under the rug as we cut each other out of our lives.
I stir some quinoa with my fork, smashing down large chunks of squash. “You didn’t ask.”
“I didn’t know, Analee.”
My head snaps up. She’s lying. There’s no way she didn’t know what Colton did. Or his version of it, at least—the version she chose to believe.
“What did Colton tell you about it?” I ask cautiously.
“Analee, I swear to you. He never, ever said anything. If I’d known, I would have broken up with him a lot sooner.”
She stares at me fiercely, and I can almost convince myself she’s telling me the truth. I want to believe her.
“So what changed?” I ask. “How did you figure it out?”
“Seb.”
I look over at him and find that he’s watching the two of us. He gives me a small smile that makes my heart flip-flop, like there’s a goldfish in my chest. My body is a goddamn traitor. I think he’ll always have this effect on me.
“He told me everything you said to him,” Lily goes on. “And he said that I should stop being an idiot and just talk to you.”
“He called you an idiot?” I ask in surprise.
“I know,” Lily says. “It’s so not Seb. And truthfully, it pissed me off a little.”
I smile back at him. The optimistic part of me, as minuscule as it is, wonders if maybe Seb will prove me wrong one day.
Then I turn back to Lily. “So if you didn’t know what Colton did, then why haven’t you spoken to me for months?”
“You haven’t spoken to me either,” she replies.
I start to speak before I realize that I have no defense. I don’t remember a time when Lily officially stopped speaking to me. It’s not like kindergarten, when you can point to a definitive beginning of a fight, like when someone steals your Play-Doh. Our conversations had slowed to a trickle before they became a full-on drought. We were both to blame for it.
“You’re right. I haven’t,” I say. “So, what was it, then? What happened to us?”
“Your mom,” she says quietly. “And I feel awful admitting this, because you’re her actual daughter, but . . . I was miserable when your mom got sick. And then when she died, I didn’t know how to deal with it.”
“How do you think I—”
“I know,” Lily cuts me off. “I know you had it worse than I did. That’s why I couldn’t tell you. I thought I had no right to put the focus on me.”
I don’t try to speak again. I just listen.
“I felt so sad,” Lily goes on. “Like, all the time. And I didn’t want to be sad anymore.”
“What about me?” I ask. I will not cry again. Enough is enough. I press my fingers against closed eyelids, compose myself for a second, and open my eyes. “Did you even care how I was feeling?”
“Of course, An. I felt like I was doing everything I could to make things better for you.”
“I didn’t need you to make things better for me,” I spit out. “I just needed you to actually be there.”
Lily nods. “I know that. I should have been, even if it was hard for me.”
It doesn’t make me feel better for her to admit it. I still don’t have my friend back.
“Maybe I was just being selfish,” she continues, “but I wanted to feel happy again. That’s why I started dating Colton.”
“Did he make you happy?” I ask.
Lily looks away. “Maybe. At first. Although, I don’t know if I’d use the word ‘happy.’ It was more . . . exciting? And I so badly needed the excitement, because life had been so bleak for so long.”
“I get it,” I reply. I allow myself one more look at Seb, and the goldfish in my chest resumes its gymnastics. “How that can happen.”
How easy was it for me to wrap myself up in him as if he could cloak me from the rest of the world? I think about kissing him in movie theaters and broom closets and forgetting that everyone else existed. I can’t fault Lily for feeling that way with Colton. Not after going through it myself.
“The truth is,” Lily says, “I think I was scared of letting you in when Colton and I started dating. I knew you would think less of me, and I just . . . I just wanted to enjoy having a boyfriend, as stupid as it sounds.”
“You thought I would ruin it,” I say. I’m not upset with her about this. I probably would have ruined it.
“Yes,” she says.
“It was hard for me when you started dating Colton,” I admit. “I felt like you were rejecting me. I didn’t see how we could both fit into your life.”
The cafeteria is emptying out. Students trickle through the doors on their way to class. I see Matt, Chloe, and Seb get up to throw their trash away.
“Things are different now,” Lily says. “When you went out with Seb, I realized how you must have felt. I was so left out. I hated not knowing what was going on in your life.”
Her eyes are filled with hurt, and again I realize that I haven’t been the only one in pain over the past few months. Harris was right. I don’t pay enough attention.
“If I started dating someone now, I would want you to know,” Lily says. “I would want both of you in my life.”
“And back then?” I ask.
“Back then . . . I don’t know. I love you, Analee, but sometimes our friendship was suffocating. You were so angry all the time. It made me feel guilty for wanting to be happy.”
“I’m sorry that I made you feel like that,” I say, and I truly mean it. I’m sure I didn’t make Lily’s life easy, hating everyone who wasn’t us.
“But that’s just it. You weren’t doing it on purpose. You were going through a lot, and I was too. I didn’t want to burden you with my problems.”
“You wouldn’t have,” I say. “You could have told me about them.”
“I guess I wasn’t dealing with it as well as I should have. And lately you seem so much happier. It reminded me of who I knew you were all along.”
“I’m not always going to be happy, though,” I say.
“I know.”
“And as my friend, I’m going to need you to stick around when I get sad.”
“I know that, too. And I will. I swear.”
She looks like she’s telling the truth. Or like she thinks she’s telling the truth. But there are no guarantees. I can take the risk and count on her to be there for me, or I can reject her out of spite and make myself more miserable in the process.
“I missed you,” I say to Lily. Even if she leaves again, this will hold true. And if she leaves again, I know that I’ll be able to handle it. Again.
“I missed you too.”
“Is it stupid if we hug?”
“Yes,” she says. “You hate hugging.”
“That w
as the old Analee. Plus, this is a hug-worthy moment.”
“You sure you want to hug this idiot?” she asks, laughing, but I throw my arms around her before she can finish the question. Yes, I’m becoming grossly sentimental, but moments like these are rare. To lose people and get them back? I don’t take it for granted.
“Can I come over tonight?” Lily asks into my shoulder.
“Yes. Stay for dinner.”
She pulls away. “Wait. Harlow isn’t still doing the raw-food thing, is she?”
“Occasionally,” I reply. “But tonight is fried chicken night.”
“You’re kidding me.”
“My idea. Once a month, but only if we eat super-healthy the rest of the time. Still, it’s a big step for Harlow.”
The late bell rings, signaling that we have two more minutes to get to class.
“Well,” Lily says as we get up to throw away our garbage, “if it’s fried chicken night, then obviously I’m there.”
The two of us walk arm in arm down the hallway on our way to class, trying to catch each other up on the last seven months of our lives. It’s surreal and yet completely normal. Lily and me. Talking. Friends again. Like nothing has changed but everything has, all at once.
We attract some stares from the other students. The hallways hum with speculation. I can just imagine the questions. What happened between me and Seb? Between Lily and Colton? How did Lily and I patch things up? I’m sure Elliott and Jared will grill me about what took place after they left.
I feel up to it. More than that, I’m excited. I’m excited to introduce them to Lily. I’m excited to go home tonight and eat fried chicken with my bonkers family. I’m excited for the future, to see if anything will happen between me and Seb, or me and Harris, or me and someone entirely new.
I’m not afraid of being alone. Not anymore. But it’s nice to know that there are always people waiting in the wings—some of them new, some of them ready to be rediscovered. Just in case.
Analee, in Real Life Page 31
