Page 321 of Mad Girl

“Did you confront my dad? Did you tell them?”

“No,” he said, positioning his body perpendicular to my outstretched legs.

“Don’t you have plans with Sienna tonight?”

“No.”

“Are you okay?”

“No.”

“Are you still mad at me?”

“Yes.”

“Can you give me an answer that isn’t yes or no?”

“I broke up with Sienna,” he said. “For good this time. It’s over.”

Thank God, I thought. “Does she know I told you the truth about her?”

“I didn’t give her an explanation. Just told her it wasn’t working and handed her a box of all her shit to take back to her dorm. I never want to see her again.”

I hesitated. “And Casey?”

Michael stared at my bookcase. “I thought we were friends. I trusted him. I never thought he was capable of lying like this. Not to me.”

“You’ve lied to him, too—about us.”

“Yeah, I know,” he said with a sigh. “I feel bad about what I said to him on Christmas Eve. I am a dick. It’s just—everyone loves him. My mom asks him for fashion advice constantly, like she doesn’t have a ton of friends she could ask instead. And he gave her this fancy English tea to try, so now she drinks it more than coffee.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, and I’m always catching Bree on FaceTime with him. She talks to Casey more than she talks to me. In fact, she’s been giving me the silent treatment for months now.”

“She’s been giving me the silent treatment since Halloween.”

“Really? Me, too. Or maybe it started right after Halloween.” Michael thought for a second. “Anyway. My dad? He and Casey text all the time.”

“They do?” I loved that for you, Casey. But why had you never mentioned it to me?

“My dad says they text about books and music and other random stuff. Not that long ago, he said, ‘Michael, I’m so glad you’re friends with someone like Casey. He’s such a great influence on you.’ And I was like, ‘What’s that supposed to mean, Dad? Shouldn’t it be the other way around?’ I told him about all the drugs Casey’s done—all the one-night stands he’s had—and my dad immediately excused all of it. Says I have no idea what it’s like to lose one parent only to be treated horribly by the other one. Says Casey has good character and that’s what matters. But if Casey had grown up in his house? My dad would never have put up with him doing any of that shit. Me, for example? I got the third degree after every party I ever went to, chewed out for trying pot that one time in high school, and he fucking lit into me for trying to share my girlfriend with Casey. He gave me this long spiel about what healthy sexual relationships are supposed to look like. And now that I know about the one he shares with Nic and my mom, that conversation is one I badly want a lobotomy to forget.” Michael narrowed his eyes. “Thanks for outing me on that, by the way.”

I winced. “Sorry.”

“I wonder what my dad would think about Casey’s past if he knew Casey’s actually a Harris.”

Somehow, it was the first time I’d ever thought of you like that: Casey Harris. It had a better ring to it than Casey Anderson, which had always sounded wrong when you said it out loud, and now I knew why. It was a borrowed name.

Your real name had been here, waiting for you in Boston.

“That’s one of the things Casey’s worried about,” I said. “Being an embarrassment to your family.”

Michael scoffed at this. “Please. Casey would give him that please-don’t-hate-me look and probably get all teary-eyed or some shit, and my dad would eat that up. But me? I have to be absolutely perfect. I’m never allowed to screw up. He clearly has a soft spot for Casey—and he doesn’t even know who he is yet. According to him, Casey can do no wrong.”

“Ah, sibling rivalry,” I said. “So it begins.”

“Shut up,” Michael whispered, giving my knee a little shove.