I lift my face toward the ceiling to blink back the tears pooling in my eyes and dab them away.
Ugh, why did she go and bring up the drama between her and Dad? It’s like she’s determined to yank on every loose thread in my already fraying life!
Dang it!
Before I can fully pull myself together, the door squeaks open again, this time with all the subtlety of a wrecking ball. Macy pops her head around the edge of the doorframe, exaggeratedly cautious, like a kid sneaking back into the house after curfew.
“Is it safe?” she stage-whispers, eyes darting between me and my mom like she’s assessing the damage. “Nobody’s crying, right?”
“No one is crying,” Mom confirms, though there’s an edge to her voice that tells my friendI know you’ve been eavesdropping. She hardly looks amused, but there is nothing she can do about Macy’s sudden intrusion.
“Cool, cool.” Macy slides back into my room with more snacks in hand. “Nibbles, anyone? Or, like, an emotional support pretzel? I brought the whole bag.”
She holds up the pretzel bag.
Mom hesitates, debating whether to push me further or make her exit. No sense in having a serious conversation with Macy as an audience…
“We’ll pick this up later.” She shoots me a pointed look before stepping into the hall and pulling the door closed behind her.
The second it clicks shut, Macy practically leaps on me for details. “Okay, how bad was it? Scale of one toyou’re grounded until you leave for college.”
I resist the urge to bury my face in my hands. “Why do you always make everything a joke?”
“Because it’s my job to keep things entertaining,” she says brightly. “Now be honest. How pissed is she?”
“Not pissed. Just a few bits of wisdom about love and life,” I mumble, reaching for a pretzel. I pop it in my mouth and chew. “She said I can talk to her about anything—but you know how that goes.”
“Idoknow how that goes,” Macy says, her tone dripping with sarcasm, because she knows how my mother operates. “Tell me all your deepest secrets so I can passive-aggressively use them against you later.”
I laugh despite myself, tossing a pretzel at her. “Stop being mean. She’s trying.”
My best friend rolls her eyes. “Fine. But you know I’m right.”
The mood in the room shifts.
A pang of guilt for how much I’ve been dumping on Macy tonight hits me. My best friend is always here for me, ready with a joke or a bag of snacks to cheer me up, or to listen to my deep, dark secrets. It hits me that I haven’t asked her anything aboutherselflately.
I AM THE WORST.
“God, I am so sorry. All this talk about how horrid I’ve been. I’m sorry I’m such a mess.”
“Not gonna argue with that,” Macy quips, grinning as she tosses a pretzel into the air and catches it in her mouth.
I swat at her leg with a pillow. “Okay,rude. Seriously, though. I feel like I’ve made everything about me. Tell me whatyourprom plans are, pretty please. Distract me from my own tragic life for five minutes.”
Macy laughs, reaching out to touch my hand. “Harper, it’s fine. You’ve been going through a lot.”
“I’m sick and tired of talking about myself. I’m literally giving myself empathy fatigue.” She laughs, and the knot of tension I feel inside my rib cage relaxes a fraction. “Are you still doing group dinner?”
Macy stretches her legs out and gives me a small smile.
“Yup. Sticking to the plan for dinner. The seafood place? You should still come, Harper. We’ve got space for everyone—it won’t matter if you don’t have a date. Holly and Delilah don’t, and Gabe is coming stag, too.”
My shoulders fall and she gives me an encouraging nudge.
“Harper Lindsay Conrad, you’re part of the group. Just because things got complicated with Easton doesn’t mean you can’t come. It’s your prom, too.”
“Got complicated? Be real; things got messy.”
