I spy Emmett’s profile in Cassie’s list of followers—my real motivation for searching out Cassie. His icon is a professional photographer’s action shot of him on the ice. Of course. I click on the link and my stomach tightens with excitement, seeing that it’s not set to private. He has over two thousand followers.
Curling up in the window seat, I begin to scroll. He doesn’t post often, and when he does, it’s usually something about hockey or his team. Where there is the odd picture of him without a helmet, I linger, my heart rate spiking.
It’s at least twenty pictures before I come across a picture of him and Holly, taken last Christmas based on their matching Christmas sweaters. There’s another one of them, lying side by side in the snow, laughing.
I can’t help myself—I click on the tag that takes me to Holly’s profile.
It’s full of pictures of Holly and Emmett, of Holly alone, and beautiful candid shots of Emmett that make my heart ache, all of them with a slew of hashtags that stake her claim over him.
He’s all mine.
That’s what she said in the bathroom today.
My teeth grit at that wide, toothy smile.
What a phony.
A horn honks outside and I peer out the window to see a black SUV waiting in the Hartford driveway. Moments later, Emmett strolls out of the house in a dark-gray suit and silver tie, his stick in one hand, his enormous hockey bag in the other. He rounds the truck to toss his equipment in the back before climbing into the passenger seat.
They wear suits to games? Hockey is weird.
I grab a nearby book and pretend to read as the SUV backs out of the driveway. It’s Friday night. Will Emmett feel sorry for me if he happens to look up here and see me alone?
Did he actually say that to Holly?
My chest burns with equal parts anger and embarrassment.
Once the SUV is out of sight, I slide my earbuds in and replay the audio recording for the sixth time tonight, in all its unmistakable glory.
Proving that the only pretty thing about Holly is her big, fake smile.
10
Dear Julia,
WHAT SHOULD I DO?
I know what I WANT to do—send that video to Emmett. I have his number. I could do it. But what will he think? Is Jen right? Will he be pissed with Holly? Will he dump her for what she said? She’d deserve it.
But what if he doesn’t, and he’s pissed at me for recording her? Plus, my mom will KILL me if she finds out I was hiding in a bathroom stall, recording conversations, which means I can’t send this video to Emmett; she’d see it in her spyware.
So maybe I should just play it for her, and see what she says. Holly’s a horrible person. My mom would see that in a heartbeat.
Or she could demand that I delete it. Then I don’t have proof. Then Holly gets to keep strutting around being the Queen of Fake while talking trash about Cassie and me, and Jen, and who knows who else, all while pretending she’s this sweet angel and sucking on Emmett’s neck like a damn vampire (I’ve definitely been around Uncle Merv too much).
See the dilemma I’m in, Julia?
I know what I want to do. The thing is, I also know why I want to do it, and my reasoning probably isn’t all that noble.
~AJ
Eastmonte cross-country team, Practice tomorrow morning (Monday) is cancelled due to inclement weather. Thx, Ms. Moretti.
I fall back into my bed, surrounded by textbooks, and let the relief swarm my body. Thank you, lightning. Without that forecast, we’d be running in rain tomorrow morning and that is a crappy way to start off a week.
My phone chirps with an incoming text and my heart skips a beat when Emmett’s name shows up at the top.
You see Moretti’s email?
Between hockey and Holly, Emmett was out most of the weekend, which is probably a good thing because I haven’t figured out what to tell him yet, if anything. There’s a good chance that if I show Emmett the video, he’ll break up with Holly, and I’d be lying to myself if I said I didn’t want that. But the thing is, she deserves it for the things she said—not about Jen and me but about Cassie. The more times I listen to it, the more I convince myself that that’s reason enough to out her.
Sure, Cassie’s one of the most awkward girls I’ve ever met, but, funnily enough, she’s grown on me. I may never be able to have a deep conversation with her, but she’ll always be genuinely happy to see me. And if she heard what Holly said about her? Just the thought makes me want to march across the lawn and play the recording for Emmett.
But, if this were any other guy, if I’d overheard this conversation in the bathroom, would I care as much? Probably not. I’d probably tell myself to keep moving. I’m not interested in becoming known like that at Eastmonte. I don’t want to bring attention to myself. Attention breeds whispers and whispers breed rumors, and rumors somehow become facts. Usually ugly and untrue facts that people want to believe.
But Emmett should know who he’s dating. He deserves to know the kinds of things Holly is saying about his sister behind his back. And if he wants to stay with her after that …
Jen said it best—the fantasy will be crushed. And maybe that would be a good thing for me, because pining for a guy I can’t be with is not how I saw myself starting over in this new life.
I respond with “Yup. See You at 8,” and then toss my phone and count my stars.
Morning announcements crackle over the PA system and my stomach curls as I watch Holly skate her fingertip over Emmett’s collar, pausing to tickle the spot where the hickey has finally faded.
“Still not funny,” he warns.
As if sensing my scalding gaze, she peers over her shoulder at me. “Hey, Aria! Ready for the first meet next week?”
“Yup.” I struggle to keep the sharpness from my tone.
Her blue eyes flicker to Jen, to her shirt—a peach-colored, long sleeve with a unicorn wearing a party hat on the front. It’s equal parts hilarious and embarrassing. “I love your shirt, Jennifer. It’s so cute.”
Jen offers a tight smile, as if she can sense the inauthenticity. “Thanks.”
Holly catches her friend Lindsay’s eye and they share a secretive smile. Obviously, the catty conversation I overheard in the bathroom isn’t the first of its kind. And, as much as I agree that Jen’s wardrobe choices are an abomination, that Holly is mocking her makes my anger flare.
“She goes by Jen,” I blurt out. “She doesn’t like being called Jennifer.”
Holly’s mouth gapes open. “Oh my God! Are you serious?” She presses her hand against her chest, over her heart. “I had no idea! I’m so sorry. I feel horrible!”
“It’s not a big deal,” Jen murmurs, her cheeks turning red as she glances around us, at the people who can overhear the conversation.
“Okay, everyone!” Ms. McNair calls out, prompting the class to begin.
Holly’s face is a perfect mask of guilt—eyes round, forehead pinched.
Emmett reaches over to smooth an affectionate hand over her back. “It’s okay. It was an honest mistake.”
As McNair begins talking about this past weekend’s reading assignment, Emmett glances over his shoulder to frown at me, shake his head, and mouth, “What was that?” before turning to face front again.
My stomach drops. I’ve managed to make myself look like the jerk in Emmett’s eyes.
That was definitely not my intention.
I trail Emmett and Holly out of first period, my stomach in knots, wishing I’d never corrected her for something so dumb as a name, especially when Jen doesn’t have the nerve to speak up about it.
“Catch you later?” Emmett leans down to kiss Holly, and I duck around them to get to my locker, wishing I could just go home and curl up in bed. It’s going to be an agonizing day of regret and pondering if I—
“What was that about, AJ?” Emmett’s voice behind me startles me so much, I drop my textbook on the floor.
I swallow against the ache in my throat as he reaches down to collect it and hand it to me. “You made Holly feel like crap. And you embarrassed Jen in front of everyone. Why would you do that? I didn’t think you were like that.”
“I’m not! I just …” I peer up into those dark-brown eyes staring down at me, the mix of confusion and disappointment in them unmistakable. That look, I can’t bear. “Holly’s not who you think she is.”