ELEVEN
THE GIRL WHO CRIED WTF
AN HOUR EARLIER
“I toldyou but you didn’t believe me.”
“The way you talk about Zach, everything’s massive, Girl Who Cried Humongous Dick.”
Recognizing both voices, I sincerely regret telling Callan it was fine to leave me on one of the benches outside the Pond.
I’m not sure what it is about Addison Fitzpatrick, but she gets under my skin.
Take this conversation—I’ve heard every imaginable version of it a thousand times over, alongside a different giggle, ever since Zach hit puberty and began making a name for himself on the ice.
When Pecan morphed from part-Shrek into handsome mofo our freshman year, I was screwed.
Ever since, like a colony of Elviras on the hunt for prey, girls have surrounded me on all sides. I’m the wallflower you use to gain access to both of them.
Fun times.
It’s not as if Addison’s the worst. That honor belongs to Xaqueline Gilmore who, thankfully, left our private academy in senior year after her dad went to prison and the family lost their fortune.
Maybe it’s their physical similarities? Is that what has me retreating into myself whenever she’s around? Or is it the fact she’s queen of the Pies?
My earphones buzz, drawing my attention away from my post-game chill playlist to the email notification on my cell.
A rewrite—last week’s philosophy essay. Expected in three days. AND a request for a meet-up during Langton’s office hours on Monday.
Great.
I’ve been doing better with Callan’s help, but Dad was right. Langton totally has it out for me.
To message me this late at night… could he hate me any more?
“You’re friends with Zach Bradley, aren’t you?”
I huff. Inwardly.
Addison spotted me—great.
Honestly, I’m used to being invisible. I’ve grown to appreciate it, but this is just ridiculous.
Enough for me to rant, “Either you’re in a fugue state or you’re pissed because Zach didn’t call you to apologize about that mess at Dopie's.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” is her airy retort.
Ah, fugue state it is.
“Sure you do. You stole some of my cheese fries.” I might be forgettable, but Dopie's cheese fries are a thing of legend.
“That’s right. Of course. You’re the freak who?—”
“I’d think twice before you insult me, Addison. If you want to get to Zach through me, babe, you have to pretend to be nice to me.
“You think you’re the first person to have the genius idea that I’m a toll bridge to Zach’s bed? Spoiler: you’re not.” I smirk when she sucks in a breath. Is that fake umbrage? Nah. “Now, if you don’t mind, that seat’s reserved for literallyanyonebut you.”
“I’ll be sure to tell Zach how much of a bitch you are to his girlfriend.”
