She shrugs, smirking at me. “I am extremely talented.”
“You’re pathetic.”
“No, I’m a genius. Now that we’re on the homecoming court, we can start dating again. The football scouts willadorethis story, Zane. They’ll go crazy for it.”
I swallow hard and glare at her. “Leave me alone.”
I walk away, thinking I’ve had the last word.
Then she calls out after me, using her inauthentic sweet voice. “You’ll change your mind, honey.”
Fourteen
Zara
I’ve heardof people getting catfished online. Where someone randomly messages you and their profile photo looks cute so you talk to them and you end up falling in love with them. Only that profile photo? It’s fake. And the person you’re talking to? Not the amazing guy of your dreams, but some creepy weirdo pretending to be someone else online. I know I’d never fall for a scam like that.
But I kind of got myself catfished in real life. By my own neighbor.
I guess I was too busy in my efforts to win homecoming queen that I failed to notice that the so-called cute guy next door who said he liked me was a big fat liar. I’d thought our food truck date had been magical. Maybe he did too, at least a little bit. But then somewhere along the way, he changed his mind. Andrea told me she was going to win him back and I didn’t believe her. I had fallen so far into Zane’s trap that I stupidly believed he liked me, not her. I stupidly thought she was the delusional one for thinking she could win him back. I was stupid, stupid, stupid.
I thought she was wrong. Turns out the joke was on me.
Just three days after Zane lied and told me he was in Tennessee with his parents, Andrea posted pictures to her Instagram of them together, hanging out in her bedroom. Since she goes to school here in town, there’s no way he was several states away. He was IN HER BEDROOM.
The photo caption read:hanging out with my baby! So glad we reconnected <3 xoxo
I stared at that picture until my eyes went blurry. I stared until I had every inch memorized. Zane, with his gorgeous blue eyes and killer smile, just laying on her bed all cuddled up with her. It was gross. How could he do that just days after going on a date with me?
Worse, how could he lie about it to me?
I can’t believe he thought he could get away with skipping school for a week just to avoid telling me he went back to his ex-girlfriend. The least he could have done was be a man about it and tell me to face that he didn’t like me anymore. Instead he kept up this stupid charade, pretending to be all stressed out in a different state. I actually felt bad for him! I talked to him and comforted him and told him we’d make plans to do something fun when he got home. But he was never in Tennessee at all. He was with her the whole time.
He sounded genuinely confused on the phone the other day which means he’s a fool who thought I didn’t know how to look up her Instagram. His girlfriend is my only competition for homecoming queen—so of course I would look her up! In an effort to make sure I win this election, I was doing recon a few days after he left and that’s when I stumbled on the photo that he thought I would never see. Boys can be so stupid.
Well, I’m done with stupid.
I’m also done with homecoming. The dance, the game, the homecoming court. I’m done with all of it.
Except I can only bementallydone with homecoming, because physically I’m now on my third hour of helping Mom make her famous mums for the big day. She’s overwhelmed with orders this year, like all years, and needs my help. The mum workshop is filled with ribbons and trinkets and the smell of hot glue. Our favorite playlist is playing on Mom’s Bluetooth speaker. Usually I enjoy these few days a year where we work out butt off making mums. Right now it all makes me sick to my stomach.
I cut a few long strips of ribbon and then turn back around, accidentally burning my elbow on the hot glue gun. I curse under my breath.
“Honey?” Mom says, looking up from the small teddy bear she’s gluing to a mum. “You okay?”
“Fine,” I say, bringing the ribbons to the table and sorting them, color by color, for the five mum orders in front of me. One of my friends has a gothic style and she asked for a mum made of black ribbons with white accents. It’s the only thing in this room that makes me feel even somewhat happy today.
Mom puts her glue gun on the table and stares at me. “You don’t look fine.”
I roll my eyes and heave a big, defeated sigh. I know I can’t keep quiet much longer. I’m so hurt and angry and annoyed and these feelings are just dying to burst out of me. “So… you know Zane?” I say, looking back at the ribbons.
“Of course,” Mom says. “He is our neighbor. How could I forget him?”
“I wish I could forget him,” I mutter.
“Uh oh.”
I can feel Mom staring at me even though I’m not looking at her because if I do, I might cry. “What happened?”
