Haven Lee has a book deal. Haven Lee is debuting in not only the year I am but the exact same season I am. Haven Lee, the girl who single-handedly turned everybody else against me and made my entire high school experience hell on earth and left me a broken husk of a person. The girl whose cruelty ultimately ended up killing the only friend I ever had is back.
Chapter 8
Age Fifteen
Apple maple cinnamon rolls. Who could say no to that? I’m so pleased with how they turned out that I’m practically skipping to school. Even Mom and Dad said they were really good. The school’s having its annual bake sale today and everyone only ever brings cookies or brownies, so I just know these rolls are going to be a hit. I can already see people telling me how delicious they are and could I please, please teach them how to make them?
I’m still wearing a dopey grin when I turn the corner and run right into Haven Lee. The tray is knocked out of my hands, and I see the rolls tumbling out in slow motion. I dive after them and manage to catch one, but the others plop onto the sidewalk, and it’s only when I feel the squish of cream cheese icing on my palm that I realize there wasn’t any point in catching one. It’s not like anyone’s going to want to eat a cinnamon roll I’ve held in my bare hand.
Even as I think that, Haven smacks my hand, making me drop the roll. “Oops!” she says, smiling.
I can’t stand it. I can’t keep my cool. Tears roll down my face as I scream, “Why would you do that!” I crouch down on the sidewalk and gather the cinnamon rolls, sobbing like a little kid.
Haven’s foot stomps down onto one of the rolls, then another and another, flattening them. “Oh my god,” she laughs, “I am sooo clumsy!”
“Stop it!” I shriek, and lunge at her. I shove her, hard, and she stumbles back and falls onto her butt.
“Freak,” she hisses, pushing herself back up.
“Haven!” someone calls out.
Haven and I turn at the same time, and relief floods me when I see Dani. She hurries over to us, her face creased with concern.
“What’s going on?” she says, her gaze ping-ponging back and forth from Haven to me.
“She pushed me,” Haven says, brushing dirt off her bottom. She lifts her palms up and shows them to Dani. They’re bruised, pocked with little marks where gravel dug into the skin.
“She destroyed my cinnamon rolls!” I yell. I’m still crying, my breath coming in and out in short, shuddering gasps, and I sound completely insane.
Haven shakes her head, her eyes wide with innocence. “We bumped into each other. It was an accident, Fern. I can’t believe you thought I’d do something like that on purpose.”
It takes everything inside me not to scratch her hateful face. “That’s not true!” I scream. I turn to Dani. “You’ve got to believe me. She was waiting for me, she—”
“I saw you push Haven, Fern,” Dani says quietly.
“But—” I make myself pause and take a deep breath. “Did you see what happened before that?”
Dani shakes her head. “I’m sorry. I just arrived, and I looked over and saw you pushing Haven.”
“But she started it!” I cry.
Dani sighs. “Can you please just—please just be civil to her?”
Haven smirks, just long enough for me to spot, but not Dani. I grit my teeth. “She shoved my tray out of my hands,” I growl.
“God, I hate this,” Dani groans. “Why can’t everyone just freaking bekind?” With that, she links her arm through Haven’s, and they walk away, leaving me with nothing but a pile of crushed cinnamon rolls.
I want to scream. I don’t know how to describe the pain that stabs through me at the sight of Dani linking her arm through Haven’s. Dani choosing to believe Haven over me. Dani, the girl I’d known since we were little kids with chronically scraped knees. The friend I had a sleepover with almost every weekend. The friend who, after a trip to Disneyland, came back and gave me a pair of Mickey Mouse earrings that matched hers. I still have those earrings. Sometimes, I put them on at night and think of how Dani and I would grin whenever we wore those earrings together. Her mom would go “Ooh, look at you two with your matching earrings!” and I’d pretend that she was my sister.
I have never felt as alone as I do now, watching Dani walking away from me. Just before they turn the corner and go out of my line of sight, Haven turns her head, and I could swear she’s wearing the smallest hint of a smile on her face.
Chapter 9
After that, there is no stopping me. I tried, of course, for a while. I managed to extricate the phone from my hand and paced about my tiny apartment, muttering frantically out loud: “It’s okay, Fern. It has nothing to do with you. This is completely separate from you and your book deal. She’s all the way back in LA, she can’t get to you. She doesn’t have a hold over you, it’s fine. Just mute her on everything and forget about her. It’s fine. It’sfine!”
This lasted about seven whole minutes. The whole time, my insides churned and boiled, the tension building inside me until the floodgates exploded and I practically pounced at my phone. I do a search for Haven Lee on Twitter but find nothing. She must be on here. A dark feeling claws at my stomach, and I log out of my Twitter profile before logging on to an alternate account. I do the search once more, and this time, her name shows up. I break out into cold sweat. My instincts were right. I haven’t come across Haven’s Twitter profile all this time because she’s blocked me. A tremor goes up my arms, making me shiver. After all these years, she still has it out for me. Why? I give myself a little shake. Doesn’t matter. Don’t try to come up with an explanation for Haven’s wanton cruelty. Focus on this.
Gulping, I tap on Haven’s Twitter profile. I can’t believe that all this time, I’ve been stalking her on Facebook and Instagram but never on Twitter. I guess I saw Twitter as a publishing-only space, and there had never been any indication of Haven even being remotely connected to publishing. She’s a food influencer, for god’s sake! She cooks huge feastsfor her adorable parents! And all of a sudden here she is, writing a novel about sexual assault? What the hell?
