She ended the call.
My room swims as my vision clouds with tears, and I stumble back two steps until my back hits the wall. I slide down until I’m sitting with my knees against my chest, crying into my jellyfish pajama pants. After a few minutes I try calling her again, hoping to convince her to talk this out. To ask her what it will take for her to forgive me. It rings once and then goes to voicemail. I try once more, and the same thing: one ring, voicemail.
I think she blocked me.
My heart sinks. I pull up various social media accounts to check my status there—she’s already unfollowed me, and I can’t see her page on any of them. She works fast, I’ll give her that. Honestly, I shouldn’t be surprised. In fourth grade I witnessed the ferocity of Kat’s rage after a girl called me ugly and within sixty seconds she’d blacklisted not only the perpetrator but every single person in her group of friends.
Kat can be ruthless when she wants to be.
I just never thought I’d be on the receiving end of it.
My parents are both at work, and I have an hour before I’m due at Pearl’s for the lunch shift. I don’t feel like eating, so I take a glass of water onto the back porch and sink into the couch, Margarine at my side. I pat her head, grateful for her loyalty. Even if I’ve screwed everything up and Kat hates me for what I did, I know Margarine never will.
I remember when I thought I’d never break our Myles pact. It seems like a lifetime ago. Deep down I know it’s not the worst thing anyone’s ever done, and that I just made a mistake. But intention doesn’t really matter when people get hurt, does it?
Suddenly I remember the broken look on Gregory’s face last night too, and I feel even worse. I pretended like there’s nothing between us.
Lies upon lies.
I have no idea what will happen next. Will everyone stay mad at me forever? Will I have to make new friends? Will I be a loner who just lies low and pushes through until I graduate and start fresh in college with people who don’t know anything I did this summer?
Eventually I go inside and get ready for work. Anders is with me today, and an older woman who usually works the dinner shift. This is one day I don’t mind a single bit to be working with my silent coworker. I just want to put my head down, work my shift, and go home.
Which is exactly what I do. I appreciate the distraction work brings, and I think I do a decent job putting on a natural-looking smile for my customers. Gregory’s mom comes in, and my heart stalls out as I watch the door, wondering if he’ll step inside after her. But instead of him she’s accompanied by another woman around her age. I still take their table, and if the friendly way Gregory’s mom treats me and introduces me to her friend is any indication, he hasn’t said anything to her about our fight. So I pretend everything’s fine between us too.
I spot Myles’s Bronco pulling into the lot as I head out forthe afternoon, and I dart behind a building and sneak through an alleyway to head home. I’m not ready to face him yet. He has no idea about Kat’s and my pact or that last night caused the destruction of our friendship, and it’s just too much for me right now. He texted me this morning, asking about Luke, and after letting him know Luke would be okay, I told him I’d text him later.
As soon as I get home, I change and take Margarine for her walk. I try to lose myself in the waves and the sun and the briny breeze, but nothing works. My brain won’t shut off, and the heaviness weighing me down doesn’t abate.
Not even a little.
I guess even the ocean can’t heal me this time.
At dinner that night my parents can tell something’s wrong.
“Is everything okay?” my dad asks gingerly, as if I might detonate in an explosion of tears and hysterics any second. Which… come on. I thought he knew me better than that.
“I’m fine,” I say.
“Is it Luke?” my mom asks. Of course they heard about that. “He’s doing well today.”
“That’s good. I’m glad.”
The next few minutes of silent eating are unbearable. They keep sneaking worried glances at me, then at each other, and if I don’t give them something, they’ll just keep staring. And worrying. And will probably take turns stopping by my room all night to see if I want to talk.
“I did something that hurt Kat,” I finally say. “I messed up, and now she won’t talk to me.”
“Oh, honey,” my mom says. “What happened?”
I don’t know how to explain it all to them. “I promised her I wouldn’t do something, and I did it anyway. And then I lied about it. She found out, and even though I apologized, she still blocked me. No calls, no texts, nothing.” A few tears slip out, the emotions of the whole situation bubbling to the surface again.
“I’m sorry, sweetheart.” My mom comes around the table to hug my shoulders. “That’s hard.”
“I can’t believe I did that to her,” I say, sniffling.
“Hey,” my dad says. “Everyone makes mistakes. You owned up to it and apologized, right? Sometimes that’s the hardest part. Besides, messing up is what being a teenager is all about.”
“This was a catastrophic mess-up. Kat hates me.”
