“Why not?”
“Because I can tell by his Instagram that he’s super cool and popular, and ... well, that’s not me.”
“You’re super cool!” Becky replies, frowning and clearly offended by the idea.
Amanda grins. “I love that you think that. But anyway ...”
Becky and I share a look as we wait for Amanda to continue. Most of the story I already know, except for whatever happened today that put her in a funk when she walked through the door.
“So we’ve been friendly at the pool ...” Amanda continues. “We started following each other on Instagram, and he’s been liking my stories. But then I started getting these rude DMs from some girl who starts calling me a bitch and a whore and—”
“I beg your pardon!” Becky sits forward in shock.
In an effort to keep silent, I rake my fingers through my hair, because I’ve already shared my opinions with Amanda on the matter and I don’t need to do so again, but it’s not easy to keep my mouth shut. But I’m interested in what my best friend has to say.
“What’s her name?” Becky asks.
“Marissa.”
“I hope you blocked her.”
This is, of course, good advice.
“I did,” Amanda replies. “But then she went old school and actually called me—I don’t know how she got my number—and she threatened to cut me up if I kept talking to Jeff.”
Becky clutches her forehead. “Holy banana pants.”
“I know, right? It’s crazy.”
“It is,” Becky says, “but seriously ... if she threatened to cut you up, that’s a crime. You need to call the police. At least file a report in case she ever actually does something.”
I nod in agreement, but Amanda shakes her head. “I can’t do that. It’ll only piss her off more.”
“Did something happen today?” I ask, still bothered by her mood when she walked in the door.
“Not exactly,” Amanda replies. “She didn’t call me, but I brought it up to Jeff in a private message.”
I sit up with surprise because I had suggested she do that days ago, but she didn’t want him to know that she had a crush on him. She wanted to play it cool and casual.
“How did he respond?” I ask.
Amanda fiddles with her spoon. “He apologized and said he was sorry that happened. He said they weren’t a ‘thing,’ except for talking a few times at parties. According to him, she was into him, but he wasn’t interested, and she’s not his girlfriend, and she’s borderline stalking him, so he basically thinks she’s nuts.”
“Great,” Becky says and turns to me. “Remember back in the old days when bullies were just bullies? Now they have serious mental health issues, which is concerning for everyone.”
“We had it so easy,” I reply.
“You did,” Amanda says reproachfully. “I wish I could have grown up in the eighties, before cell phones were invented.”
“It was awesome, if I’m being honest,” Becky replies. “If only we had a time machine and could go back and warn people about social media. Outlaw it while you have the chance!”
We all laugh, but I imagine what my life might have looked like if I could go back in time—if I could travel to the year 1999 and not hike up Cape Split. Jacob and I could have simply taken Scooter for a walk along the dykes, and that horrible thing ... the three of us catapulting down the mountainside ... would never have happened.
Then I think again. If that had been our choice, I wouldn’t have Amanda or Connor. So I sweep that dream into the dustbin, as I always do whenever I’m plagued with regrets about that day.
“What are you going to do?” Becky asks Amanda.
She shrugs a shoulder. “I don’t know. I like him, but maybe he’s a player and I’ll end up obsessed and crazy, too, just like her, stalking thenextgirl that goes after him.”
