But it hadn’t been my idea at all. I had said that because I was embarrassed and hurt by what had happened, especially considering Alex had warned me and I chose to ignore her.
Nancy McPherson and I met in second grade, on a playground close to my house, and after finding out we lived two blocks from one another, we begged our mothers for a playdate. We both loved the color green and wanted our own pet rabbit one day and thought Tiger Tail was the only ice cream flavor worth eating. In fifth grade we took a best friend blood oath (using one of my mom’s finger prickers for her blood sugar testing) and Nancy barely even flinched, impressing me to no end. We were inseparable, and I believed Nancy would be my best friend forever. Then came the eighth grade, and a boy named Jordan Riggle.
I liked Jordan, and based on what I was hearing from mutual friends, he liked me, too. Nancy and I had brainstormed what to do. Sure, I could ask him to the dance, but the middle school rumor mill said he was planning to ask me, and so why not wait?It will be epic, Nancy had said, her voice swoony.Being asked to the dance by Jordan Riggle!I had agreed (I always agreed with Nancy) and decided to wait for Jordan to ask me. Though when I had broached it with Alex, looking for the older sister perspective, she told me to “Buck up, princess, and ask him first.”
I had expected Alex to see things from Nancy’s point of view, because I idolized both of them and thought they were the smartest people I knew. So I had argued with Alex—itwastraditional for the boy to ask the girl, like Nancy said—and Alex had snorted her disdain and told me that was ridiculous. “You’re going to regret giving Nancy McPherson so much power over you,” she had said.
In the end Alex was right, having always been better at reading people than I was. I came down with the flu and missed three days of school. But Nancy came by every day to drop off homework and fill me in on “Operation Dance”—she said she was sure Jordan would ask me when I was back. By Friday I was well enough to go to school, and it was then I heard rumblings Jordan and Nancy were going to the dance together. I wondered if my delirious flu fever had returned.
But I wasn’t sick, just a fool. Turned out Jordan asked Nancy if she thought I might go to the dance with him, and Nancy, my best friend for the past seven years, said I thought dances were stupid. So Jordan asked Nancy instead, and she said yes.
That was the day Nancy McPherson stopped being my best friend, and the moment I realized how horribly people could let you down and break your heart.
“You know, that dance fiasco might have been the last time you doctored the truth with your special brand of positivity,” Alex said, pointing her spoon at me. “Until Daniel.”
I sat up straighter at the mention of Daniel. “What do you mean?”
Alex shrugged. “Well, I could tell you weren’t a hundred percent in, even though you were going ahead with the wedding.”
Now I felt confused. “Why would you say that?”
“Because it’s the truth. It was little things, these small clues. Like, you wanted to keep Sparks as your last name.”
“But you didn’t want me to change my last name. You told me that!” I sputtered, then added, “Hang on. Ididchange my name, so it’s a moot point.”
Alex’s tone was direct, but not unkind. “No, you didn’t, sweets. You didn’t end up getting married, remember?”
“Of course I remember,” I grumbled, then almost laughed at how ridiculous a statement that was. I had gaps in my memory from this time of my life, and some of what I did remember was a fabricated version of reality. “You know what I meant. So what else? Why would you think I didn’t want to marry Daniel? Did I tell you that?”
She shrugged. “Not in so many words. In the beginning you seemed happy. But the closer you got to the wedding, the less you talked about it. About him.” She licked a drip of peanut butter off her thumb. “And you’re not exactly the type to go mute on something when you’re excited. You used to drive me crazy as a kid because you never shut up when things were going your way.” She smiled, but I found I couldn’t return it.
I didn’t talk about the wedding?Everything slowed down then. I wound back her previous words:In the beginning you seemed happy. But the closer you got to the wedding, the less you talked about it. About him.I took a deep breath and asked, “Alex, do you know what happened between me and Daniel?”
She stared at me for a moment. “I have an idea.”
I was prepared to respond with “Oh, it’s okay. No one else seems to know, either, especially me!” but then her words hit me.
“What do you know? Why haven’t you said anything? Have you known this whole time what happened? Tell me.What do you know?”
She spread peanut butter on a cracker with the back of her spoon and held it out to me. I shook my head and she shrugged, bit it in half and chewed before saying, “I know Daniel London was an asshole.”
Now I stared at her and waited for her to explain. She didn’t. “Oh, give me a break, Alex.” I tried to imagine it—thought back to everything I remembered about Daniel, how it had felt to see him recently. That kiss... I shook my head. “He isn’t. He wasn’t.”
“I assure you, Lucy, he was. And probably still is.” She dropped the spoon into the peanut butter jar, smacked her lips. “Hell, he was engaged, nearly married, when you met him, right? So I would say Daniel London is someone who always has one foot out the door, know what I mean?”
“No, I do not know what you mean.”
Alex sighed and brushed a few cracker crumbs from her sweater. “The night of your engagement party I got there early. To ‘oversee’ things,” she said, using air quotes, sounding like our mother, “because Mom was helping you get ready—you had a cast on your arm, but you probably don’t remember that—and she was worried about the catering.” I tried to control the small shake overtaking my body, afraid of what Alex was going to tell me but also afraid whatever it was wouldn’t answer all my questions. “Daniel was already there, and he was at the bar, drinking and talking up a very attractive bartender.”
“And so what?” Daniel had been flirting with the bartender. Big deal. It didn’t explain anything.
“And so I confronted him—they were supercozy, Lucy, like inappropriately so. He had his hand on her arm. Left it there too long.” Alex gave me a pointed look. “I cornered him and asked what he thought he was doing, being all flirty-flirty with the help, and he laughed. Said, ‘Alex, calm down. I’m not married yet.’ And then he winked at me and walked away.”
I felt like I’d been turned inside out, but I also struggled to imagine the scenario she was describing. It sounded like an entirely different Daniel from the one I knew. And suddenly I was furious with Alex for only telling me this now. For tarnishing a memory I thought I could count on. “What the hell, Alex? Why now? Why didn’t you tell me that night?” My cheeks flushed with frustration, and I let my anger toward everything—everyone—seep out at my sister. She took it without complaint, her voice calm.
“I did, Lucy. You just don’t remember.”
“Oh.” The fight inside of me extinguished. “What did I say?”
