“Sorry!” Rose said as she reached over to grab a towel.
I picked up the bowl. “Has anyone ever told you it’s annoying when girls say sorry all the time?”
She threw the towel on the floor where it landed with a wet splat. “That’sit. I’ve tried to be the bigger person here and let you act like a little jerk to me. But you need to be put in yourplace!”
Something about Rose’s anger really gave me life. I let out a brittle laugh. “This isn’t Elysian. You haveno powerhere.”
Her face was inches away from mine. “We’ll see.”
The guy who was ordering at the window clapped his hands over his head. “Fight, fight!”
“PARE!”
We all stared at my dad. He shook his head. “I mean,stop. That’s it. You guys are not only acting like kids, you’re affecting business!”
And within seconds, we were both pushed out onto the sidewalk and the KoBra’s door was locked against us. I pounded on it, but my dad refused to open it.
“PAI!” I yelled. “You’re being a total fascist!” I kicked the door and stalked off, throwing my cap onto the ground as I walked away.
Rose followed behind. I was steaming but didn’t know where to go, and I was annoyed that Rose was following me. “Can’t you go to yourcar?” I seethed as I walked rapidly down the sidewalk. She didn’t respond, but I could still feel her on my heels. Where had she parked? God!
“Too good to talk to me now?” I asked while glancing behind me.
She looked at me, then huffed with frustration. “Will you, like, turn into a toad or something if you stop talking for more than one minute?”
I glared at her. “Don’t be jealous of my charisma.”
She just made a repulsed face.
I continued walking and clenched my jaw. “You do realize that this entire thing is your fault? That if you hadn’t lost yourmind at the dance we wouldn’t be in this mess?” We passed by a group of hipster dudes who laughed at my raised voice. I flipped them off.
I could almost hear Rose’s eyes roll. “If you hadn’t felt the narcissistic need to pull a prank at junior prom and make it all about yourself, then we wouldn’t be in this mess.”
I stopped walking and turned around to face her. “Narcissistic? I wasentertaining. It was a selfless act—someone needed to spice up that dance.”
She scoffed and walked right up to me, her posture challenging. “I’ve known you since middle school. You are a classic narcissist. Inflated sense of self-importance? Check. Need for attention based on some issue with your absent mother, clearly? Check.”
I felt an uncontrollable anger rising up—something that I usually had a grip on.
“And, here’s the kicker, you have absolutely no empathy for others. Never wondering if the stuff you’re always pulling mightactuallyhurt other people. Like, did you know Kathy Tamayo really wanted to win prom queen? That her little sister recently got into a car accident and was badly injured and maybe this would have been a nice thing for her to win?” Her voice was louder now.
I felt a brief flash of guilt before anger took over again. “How was I supposed to know that? And it’s notmyfault her sister’s hurt or that she didn’t get enough votes! It was supposed to be ajoke!” I was yelling at this point.
A sharp whistle interrupted me. “Girls, can you move along?” I looked over and saw a man leaning out of his shoe repair shop. He had an annoyed expression on his face.
“Youmove along, sir!” I snapped back but then stomped off, leaving Rose standing on the sidewalk behind me.
A bus ride later, I was home, and I headed straight to the bathroom, my heart pounding and my hands clammy. I splashed my face with cold water, trying to wash myself of Rose’s self-righteousness. Who the heck did she think she was? Like she was justsokind and never self-serving! What a load of utter crap. And how was I supposed to know about Kathy freaking Tamayo and her sister?!
Guilt pooled inside me—insidious, unfamiliar, and very unwelcome. I holed myself up in my room and started reading an old John Grisham novel that I had read so many times the cover was creased beyond recognition. Then I blasted girlie Motown and settled deep into my pillows, Flo curling up into a ball comfortably on top of my head.
But when I found myself reading the same paragraph for the fifth time, I tossed the book aside, making Flo growl deeply and jump off my head.
“Excuse me for living, Queen Licker of Butts,” I muttered as I pulled out my phone. I went to Facebook and took a deep breath. In the search bar, I typed “Kathy Tamayo.” When I got to her profile page, I saw photos of her in a sparkly silver dress at junior prom. I scrolled down farther and saw a link for a crowdfunding page for her sister, Jill. The photo accompanying the linkwas of a little Filipino girl, maybe ten or so. Shiny black hair, big smile with dimples. I bit down on my lip. For Pete’s sake.
I clicked on the link and read about the car accident that had injured Jill a few weeks ago. And then I read about the medical bills.
Good thing I had memorized my dad’s credit card number a long time ago. I donated thirty dollars on the site. Then I scribbled a note on a piece of notepad paper and slipped it under my dad’s door.
