The New Guy (and Other Senior Year Distractions) Part 23

TALON ends, and I have to just sit there in my desk, next to Sadie, as if I care about women's history when all I care about, right now, is our history.

Sadie and I have fought before, of course. Neither of us remembers it very well, but apparently when we were four, we had some heated battles about which Powerpuff Girl was the best (for me it was always Blossom, and for Sadie it was b.u.t.tercup). In fourth grade my feelings got hurt because Sadie got invited to Shauna Weber's birthday skating party and I didn't, and then in sixth grade Sadie acted strangely threatened when I got my period before she'd gotten hers.

All of that was kid stuff, though. Literally.

This is something new. I've known for a while that our talking-every-day best-friend-ship had the expiration date of going off to college, but with me busy in Providence and her in Manhattan, we'd have other stuff to keep us occupied from missing each other. We'd see each other at Thanksgiving for the annual Sheraton-Hayes/McAllister-Morgan meal, and over Christmas breaks. We would have been fine.

But now I have to see her constantly, and she's already gone.

I've somehow managed to make it this long without telling my parents about, well, anything that's going on, but I'm never going to make it through the weekend. During dinner I try bringing it up about a hundred times, but I can never fully form the words. Before I know it, the dishwasher is loaded and my parents are getting ready to watch TV.

I take a seat across from them before they have a chance to start watching whatever show's on tonight about solving crimes with forensic evidence.

"I have to talk to you guys," I say, and then something dawns on me. "Wait, has Mr. Wheeler already told you?"

"Told us what?" Darcy asks.

"There was a story in the Crest," I say. "About Alex."

"What about Alex?" Mom asks.

"We broke up again," I say. "I'm sorry, I should have told you sooner."

"Well, honey, it isn't that we don't care," Mom says, "because of course we do. But you really don't have to apologize. We've been seventeen. My senior year boyfriend-"

"Matt Hale?" I ask.

"Matt was soph.o.m.ore year. Junior year was... oh my G.o.d. Darce, do you remember who I went out with junior year? Oh, but, right, senior year was when Paul and I broke up at least three times." Mom smiles. "And obviously Darcy had a lot of breakups to manage to date so many-"

"This is serious," I say.

"We're sorry," Darcy says, though she's still smiling as she rests her chin on Mom's shoulder. "What happened with the Crest?"

I explain the full situation, from when it came up at an after-school meeting to Marisa's email, to the things Alex had said about Chaos 4 All to my decision made with Mr. Wheeler far away. I try to rush through it, because like with horror movies, the scariest parts are when everything's moving slowly.

"I'm so sorry." I wipe my eyes on my sleeve. "I didn't mean to destroy the reputation of a one-hundred-and-four-year-old tradition."

"I can't believe that's the worst article the paper has had in one hundred and four years," Darcy says.

I take a deep breath. "Also Sadie's really mad at me for the article, and I guess even more so for not telling her about being back together with Alex. And... maybe she was already mad at me for being a terrible friend."

"You aren't a terrible friend," Mom says very quickly.

"Maybe I am." I have to wipe my eyes on my other sleeve because the first one's already all wet. "I disappointed everyone."

"Honey, not everyone," Mom says. "Obviously Joe wasn't happy, and clearly Alex... but people screw up."

"I'm not supposed to let you down," I say.

"We're not let down," Darcy says. "And best friends fight. Sadie will be fine soon. Why are you still crying?"

"Don't make her defend herself for crying," Mom says. "Is there more going on, Jules?"

Darcy gets up from the sofa and crowds into the chair with me. "I know you're feeling a lot of pressure now, with your admission status hanging out there. But you've worked so hard. No matter what Brown says, you should be really proud of yourself."

"Right now the last thing I should be is proud." I lean my head against her. "I wanted to make it all worth it for you guys, and right now I haven't, at all."

"You wanted to make what worth it?" Mom asks.

"Me. I know you had to spend a lot of money for me to exist."

They do the thing where they exchange a look I can't decode. Being together for thirty years gives you communication superpowers.

"Julia McAllister-Morgan," Darcy says with a sigh. "We weren't in need of some return on our investment."

Mom gets up, and I'm afraid she's going to attempt a third person in this chair meant for one. Luckily she sits down in front of us and takes my hands. I wait to hear how they love me no matter what.

"When I was seventeen, I just wanted to get stoned and hang out with the drama kids," she says. "And Darcy-"

"I know, I know, dated twenty-five girls."

"I would not say 'dated,' and I'd definitely not say 'twenty-five,'" Darcy says. "But you get the gist. You are definitely the most together anyone in the immediate family's been at seventeen."

"You told Paige and Ryan you couldn't have another kid because it was too expensive."

"Honey..." Mom laughs. "That has nothing to do with how you were conceived. You're in your thirteenth year of private school, after two years of private preschool. You're planning on attending an Ivy League school."

"Kids are really expensive," Darcy says. "And our life is great. We didn't want to mess it up with dividing our time and money more. Of course we could have made it work if we wanted to."

"Do you promise?" I ask.

"We also say that to Paige and Ryan about anything we don't want to do," Darcy says. "Haven't you figured that out? It always shuts them up."

"They never stop otherwise," Mom says. "We've gotten out of so many things by claiming poverty."

"Anyway, you're my favorite thing we've spent money on," Darcy says. "Well, you or the espresso machine."

"Or the new pillow-top mattress," Mom says. "It's a toss-up."

"You're both so mean," I say.

Mom pulls me out of the chair so I'm sitting next to her on the floor. I expect Darcy to join us, but she just takes up more s.p.a.ce in the chair. "You could publish a hundred bad articles and not get into any colleges at all, and we'd still think you were worth it, you know."

"Mom, I know you're trying to be nice," I say, "but that's almost literally my worst nightmare."

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE.

I get up on Sat.u.r.day to walk dogs, of course, but just like Wednesday night, Alex isn't there. He was here almost constantly when we were broken up, and especially when we were "broken up," and so I know that his absence means something.

I miss him even more this time around, which I didn't realize was possible.

Mom and Darcy take me to the Huntington Gardens once I'm home, and I can tell they think the beauty and serenity of all the plants and flowers will make me forget about Alex, Sadie, and my failings. That's a lot to ask of orchids and succulents, though.

At home I check in on the blogs that "broke" Marisa's story. I'm relieved to see that the comments sections aren't exploding out of control any more than they do on any other unmoderated comments sections on the Internet. Most people have just taken the time to write something along the lines of "Who cares?"

If only that was the reaction within the halls of Eagle Vista Academy.

I know that technically there's no reason I couldn't go out, even if alone, but I feel like I should be grounded-even if Mom and Darcy don't. They go out to dinner just the two of them after I refuse to join (to be fair, they don't push me too hard), and then I'm left alone with all my thoughts and feelings.

Even the orchids and succulents would be better than those.

Em texts while I'm watching TV. We're going to check out an art show at Pehrs.p.a.ce. Come with?

I don't know who we includes, and I'm afraid to text to find out. I'm afraid to text back at all. Obviously Em believes in the magical healing power of time and breezes, but all I can picture is my whole group of friends-who mostly hate me at this point-staring when my name lights up on Em's phone. Nothing good could come from my phone at all these days, so I just turn it off.

It washes over me while two characters are kissing on-screen, and even though I know, I get out my organizer anyway. I open to today and stare at the heart I'd drawn. Right now I'm supposed to be with Alex. With Alex. And instead I'm alone watching TV actors make out.

After my run on Sunday, I finally respond to Em's text with an apology for not responding sooner. She replies with an offer to meet for coffee at Swork, but after ruining so many things I'm still not sure I deserve to be going out and having fun. Or even attempting it. I tell her I'm grounded, and that seems to settle it.

School somehow seems almost back to normal on Monday, with issues unrelated to me, that is. No one's clamoring to talk to me when I walk inside, but less people are staring at Alex today. I'll take the whole world hating me in exchange for that, considering it wasn't his fault.

The paper's back to covering its usual topics. I've never had so little to do with an issue, but I still save a copy of it, and not just because my name's in its usual spot on the masthead. The rest of the staff and Mr. Wheeler did a good job without Carlos, Marisa, or me. I try as hard as I can to not let that mean anything, though I fear it does.

I take an extra shift at Stray Rescue after school, because I know Mom will be home early enough to take care of Peanut and Daisy and start dinner. I'm sick of being alone with my thoughts about how much I've screwed up for people. At least I can do something good for dogs.

Darcy's already home when I arrive, which is almost unheard of on a Monday. In fact, there are a lot of suspicious things happening.

"Why are all these places set?" I ask, even though if the table leaf is in and places are set for seven, there's generally only one answer to that question. But I cannot believe with everything going on that the Sheraton-Hayeses would be on their way over.

"Paige and Ryan and the kids," Darcy says with her Come-on-Jules-this-is-obvious expression.

"I'm not even speaking to Sadie right now," I say. "I told you guys that."

The doorbell rings, and I know I won't be allowed to disappear upstairs into my room, so I just sit down in my usual chair and pretend to be busy looking at my phone. There's the usual amount of noise once everyone's inside, but I continue looking down until someone sits down next to me.

"Sometimes," Sadie says, "you're a big baby. And you should have told me about Alex, no matter what's going on with the Crest and with TALON. And the story about Chaos 4 All was... well, it was really mean. But I'm sorry. I don't think I did anything wrong? But I knew it would hurt your feelings, so I guess I did think so."

"Okay," I say, but slowly and softly, because if I'm really controlled, I might manage not to cry. A couple of tears drip down my face, though, which means the path's been officially cleared for as many tears feel like following. I'm pretty sure I've cried more in the past week than I did all of last year. Can that do permanent damage to your tear ducts?

"I need my own stuff too," she says. "I've tried to tell you that so many times, and you never get it. I'm so sick of being Paige Sheraton's Daughter."

"What about your hair?" I ask, and she laughs.

"Seriously! That's all I have. The hair's just because if I can't look perfect like Mom, I should at least look, like... intentional. I'm Paige Sheraton's Daughter, and I'm the Girl with the Hair. It sucks."

"What do you mean? You're a million things more than that."

"You're my best friend. You don't count."

"I'm such a nerd compared to you," I say, and she bursts into laughter.

"What are you talking about? You're my freaking hero. I'm a goober."

"You were good on camera," I say.

"Oh no, what if it's hereditary!" She laughs. "Can we just not fight anymore? You're my person when I'm upset, so when I'm upset at you..."

"I know."

I hear what can best be described as a collective Aw! and look up to see our parents craning their necks around the doorway.

"Are you guys spying on us?" Sadie asks.

"Just the last thirty seconds or so," Darcy says.

"Forty-five, most," Paige says.

"Can we eat in my room?" I ask.

"Please?" Sadie adds. "Nothing's safe around you creepers."

"Yes, go," Mom says. "We'll bring dinner up in a few."

"But I object to creeper!" Ryan calls out.

Sadie and I are still talking in my room when Paige checks in on us, hours later. We quickly get her to agree to let Sadie spend the night, even though it's a Monday.

"I'll have to get up really early tomorrow," Sadie says. "There's no way I can wear any of your clothes to school. You have to drive me home so I can get dressed."

"You can borrow whatever you want," I say.

"No offense, Jules, but I can't wear any of your skinny J.Crew prepster outfits. Even if I could fit into them." Sadie raises an eyebrow. "So what are we doing about Alex?"

"What are we doing? This isn't a group project. Could you just tell him that you fully believe that I thought the article would help him?"

"Of course," Sadie says.

"It's not so he'll take me back," I say. "I just don't want him to think someone would do that to him maliciously. Especially someone he trusted. Okay?"

"Jules! I already agreed!"