"Just give Emma another chance. I threatened to tell our parents about her boyfriend if she didn't help me."
I stop short of reaching for the door to enter my building because that comment piques my interest. "Is she not allowed to date?"
"She can date, just not him. He's a Gallagher, and our families have been rivals for years. They would accuse him of using her to get to them, forbid the relationship, and ship her overseas to live with my mother's sister."
I stare blankly at him for a second as his words hit a nerve I wasn't expecting. But only for a moment; I can't leave space to care.
"Fine," I say flatly, swiping my card and pulling open the door.
"Really?" His voice drips with hesitant relief, a hint of hope creeping into his features.
"Yes, but I'm still not doing phone duty tonight," I tell him as I pull open the door. I don't bother explaining. I planned to break my silence tonight anyway, when I asked for answers.
The door clicks shut behind me, sealing him outside. I lean against it for a moment, listening to his footsteps finally retreat down the path. I've been waiting for this. I've kept count of every transgression, filing them away until I was ready to collect. He doesn't realize how easy it was for him to think everything is forgiven, and for that, his guard has been lowered. I know he'll text his sister, and hers will lower too, and that's when accounts will get settled. But tonight, everything gets laid bare, every secret dragged into the light where there's nowhere left to hide.
I exhale an anxious breath because it's not just their secrets that are being put on display tonight. So are mine.
I watch as Emma stands in front of the full-length mirror, adjusting the band of lace woven through her hair. She's wearing a baby-blue dress with delicate fairy lights sewn into the hem of the skirt. She holds up an ornate purple-and-gold mask and studies her appearance for the thousandth time tonight before her gaze catches mine in the mirror.
"You know the whole point of the masks is that you can hide behind them, right? You look like you're about to face a firing squad," she says before turning to face me, where I lie sprawled across my bed. I quirk a brow and take a deep breath beforetoying with the lavender lace on my bodice. She once again mistakes my silence for nerves over meeting my pen pal.
I should've been more careful. I never admitted out loud that I was falling for my pen pal, but because I let her get close, she saw things. The constant texting throughout the day. The stupid grin I'd get reading certain messages. The way I'd check my phone the second it buzzed. It wasn't exactly subtle, and she's not an idiot. She put it together. What bugs me is that I slipped up in the first place and gave her the chance to use it against me.
"If you're worried he's not going to be interested once the mask comes off, don't be. That boy has been texting you good morning every single day for the past three months. He sends you playlist updates and remembers your aversion to cilantro. You literally have nothing to stress about. I, on the other hand, have no idea who's on the other end of my phone."
Oh, I'm worried, but not for the reasons she thinks. I'm worried because of what I am confident is ninety-nine percent true, and what that means. Going home was already going to be hard, but if what I think is true is real, going home is going to be that much more complicated. But the stress etched across my face right now isn't for the man behind the mask. It's for the conversation I've been saving for her.
She thinks I don't know every way she's crossed me since freshman year. Time’s up.
"Why did you throw out my ballots for president freshman year?" I ask, raising my gaze from my dress to her eyes.
Her face pales, confirming my words are true. "How long have you known?" she asks quietly.
Looking back, I should have figured it out sooner. I had suspicions after the election. Too many people mentioned voting for me without being asked, and I even heard two students talking about how Trigger had threatened them if they didn't cast a vote for me and not him. The problem was I couldn'tput together where things had gone wrong. It wasn't until I was on that stage with Trigger, watching his anger hit its boiling point, that I not only heard his words but believed them. After homecoming, I stole the security camera footage from voting day. There it was: Emma picking the lock on the ballot boxes, sorting through them, and stuffing her backpack with votes cast for me before continuing onto Headmaster Trejo's office to count the ballots.
"Since sophomore year," I say with indifference. Her betrayal means less to me than the reason why. I’ve never been able to make sense of her reasons for going behind my back.
Emma nervously runs her hands down the front of her dress. "It's not what you're thinking. I mean, I know this looks shitty, but?—"
"Nothing is ever as it seems," I agree. I learned that at a very young age. "But you're wrong. It doesn't look shitty; it is shit. You completely betrayed me."
"I know," she whines. "But it's only because I was trying to get closer to you." I narrow my eyes, not following her train of thought. "I was running for vice president, and when you lost, I was planning to step down and give you my seat, but Trigger ruined my plan by going to Headmaster Trejo and making a case that whoever lost their campaign for president would automatically become VP." She lets out a sigh of annoyance. "You realize his petition fundamentally changed how elections would be handled going forward. He argued that candidates who demonstrate enough dedication to run for presidency should be rewarded for their commitment to the student body." She rolls her eyes as if the whole argument is preposterous, and a small smile tugs at my mouth.
For the first time, I see what I thought was a power play by Trigg in a different light. I think Trigger suspected foul play inthe election, but he didn't have proof, which is why he presented his case to Headmaster Trejo.
"Do you really see it that way, or are you just mad your plan failed? The way I see it, his proposal doesn't leave motivated students without any role."
"I ran for VP. It should have been mine." She shakes her head, the loss clearly still leaving a sour taste in her mouth.
After the election, she didn't lose her spot on the council, but Trigger didn't assign her an officer role. Instead, he gave her a representative role as student council historian.
"That's all history now. You asked me why I did it, and that's what matters. My intent was never malicious. I only wanted to get closer to you. I wanted to be someone you could trust, someone you could count on." She shrugs. "We'd only just become friends back then. In hindsight, it was a terrible idea and incredibly selfish. If I could take it back, I would."
While I don't agree with her methods of forming friendships, I've known her long enough to recognize when she's being sincere. Her explanation borders on psychotic, but it's her truth.
"Can you forgive me?" She perches on the corner of my bed, her silver heels dangling just above my cream carpet. She won't look at me.
"Perhaps, if it was the only time you had betrayed me, but I think we both know that was only your first." The words taste bitter on my tongue. Her eyes widen, genuinely surprised, as if she hadn't cataloged every lie herself.
