Page 151 of Mad Girl

I shook my head sadly as I turned to leave, all the fight draining from my body. “Then there’s nothing left to say.”

LETTER EIGHTEEN

50 WEEKS LEFT

Over the next couple of months, I pretended not to care about the palpable new distance that had stretched out between us. While you watched loads of basketball with Michael, I hung out with Tinsley upstairs or fed the squirrels with Hal, not wanting to face another dreary afternoon stuck in the house, forcing myself to avoid you.

You’d taken something precious from me, and even though you were right—I lied, I broke our deal—I couldn’t pretend it didn’t matter that I was back to feeling trapped. Couldn’t pretend you hadn’t battered my heart during our two a.m. chat: “It’s a bad idea.” Couldn’t pretend I didn’t still experience a gush of warmth at the sight of you in the mornings before school, peering out the kitchen window, steaming coffee in hand, grumbling about the weather. Another overcast day. More drizzle. Bloody snow. “Bit gloomy out there, isn’t it?” you’d say to no one in particular. “Gets gloomier every day.”

And because I felt inclined to tease you about it, like I normally did—which would then cause you to flash me a smile that made my stomach flutter, like you normally did—it was better to avoid you altogether. When you’re heartbroken like I was, smiles hurt, too.

When I found your book lying next to the stove facedown, irritatingly devoid of a bookmark, I didn’t put a pink origami heart in it. Just an old, wrinkled receipt from DeLuca’s Market. I caught you studying the receipt later, suspiciously forlorn for a guy who’d recently rejected me.

Speaking of snow, I bet you remember that week a large winter storm rolled in and thwarted our plans to go to the Cape for spring break, so the Harrises (plus Eleanor and Tinsley) holed up with us for several days to ride it out. John and Libby took the guest room across from my dad’s, Bree and Tinsley slept in my room with me, Eleanor took the guest room opposite your bedroom, and you offered to let Michael share with you. But he wasn’t a fan of that idea.

“You and me? Sharing a bed?” he asked, eyebrows shooting up. “I don’t think so, dude.”

You tossed out both hands, clearly offended.

“So you were willing to share your girlfriend with him,” I said to Michael, “but a king-sized bed is where you draw the line?”

“Eww,” Bree said, glancing between you guys. “Seriously, Michael?”

“I knew it,” Tinsley said. “But also: gross. What do you guys see in that bitch, anyway?”

“Thank you,” I said, turning a glare on you both.

“Is she into some kinky stuff you can’t get elsewhere?” Tinsley asked. “She must be if she’s willing to be passed around between friends.” Her eyes grew huge. “Wait. Have you been with her at the same time?”

Bree made a face. “I’m not sticking around to hear the answer to”—she shivered as she drifted off—“any of this.”

If Bree only knew how sick that would really be…

Tinsley, on the other hand, would probably find it hot that you guys were boning the same girl at one point. Well, if that girl were any girl but Sienna.

“No,” you said emphatically. “For Christ’s sake, Tinsley. Not everyone behaves like the characters in your books.”

“She’s not even my girlfriend anymore,” Michael said, rolling his eyes at Tinsley, who smirked, nonplussed. “I’m done with her.” To me, he said, “I’m fine taking the couch.”

“Okay,” I said. “But you’ll need more than one blanket. It gets pretty chilly down here at night.”

“Not a problem,” Michael said. “I like sleeping in the cold.”

That night, after I brushed my teeth, I found Tinsley and Bree huddled over Bree’s phone, giggling at something on the screen.

“What’s going on?” I asked.

“Oh,” Bree said, straightening up. “Nothing.”

“It’s not nothing,” I said, watching the color rise in her cheeks. Bree didn’t blush over nothing. “Why won’t you tell me?”

“I’ve been talking to this senior at school,” she admitted, “and she texted me tonight. That’s all.”

Tinsley bumped Bree’s arm. “Bree has a girlfriend.”

Bree confessed she’d been dating this girl at our school. Her very first girlfriend. Amber. They started hanging out after fencing practice, because Amber seemed like the first girl who wanted to hang out with Bree for Bree and not because she secretly hoped to catch a glimpse of Michael at Bree’s house.

“I thought she might be into me, but I wasn’t sure. So I asked Casey’s advice, and he said⁠—”