He’s up now. I want to ask what happened. I don’t want to know what happened.
“I’m gonna go,” he says. Then, out of the blue, he kisses me. I want to believe it’s for me, but it’s for her. I know it’s for her.
I don’t want it.
“Thanks, baby,” he says. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
That’s it. He’s not turning back. I watch him even after he’s gone.
I have done this. This was all me. Setting the trap, then getting caught in it.
I look at Ashley as I sit back down. She looks like she’s witnessed a car accident. Or maybe she was the driver.
“I’m sorry,” she tells me again.
“No,” I say, “it’s my fault. I should’ve known. I told you that you don’t understand. You can’t understand us.”
The waitress is back, asking if we want dessert. I say no, just the check. She has it ready.
“I’ll get it,” A says.
“It’s not your money,” I point out. “I’ll pay.”
I text Justin to say I’m sorry. I tell him I’ll call him as soon as I’m home. It’s awful, but I wish Ashley had driven herself. I wish we could stop the night here. I am grateful that A will wake up in another body tomorrow. I am grateful I’ll never have to see Ashley again.
It’s only by separating them that I can hold on to A, and everything that happened before we got to this restaurant. But even still—we’ve done some damage. A hasn’t hurt me…but she’s allowed me to hurt myself. Which is almost the same thing.
When we get back to my car, she tells me again that she’s sorry. I see why Justin gets sick of it when I say it so much.
After a while, she gives up. She realizes I need her to be quiet.
Finally, we get to her house.
“I had a great time,” she says. “Until.”
“Yeah,” I say. “Until.”
“He’ll be fine. I’m sure he just thinks I’m this crazy California girl. Don’t worry about it.”
Pointless. What a pointless thing to say.
“I’ll talk to you,” she tells me.
If we’d come here straight from the woods, I wonder what would be happening now. Whether I’d kiss her even though she’s Ashley. Whether we’d feel invincible.
“I’ll talk to you,” I echo. Even though I have no idea what we’ll have to say.
I can’t worry about A now.
I have to get Justin back.
Chapter Fourteen
I don’t wait until I get home. I drive away from Ashley’s house, turn a few corners, then pull over by the side of the road and call him.
He hasn’t texted me back, and I’m worried he won’t pick up. But he does.
“What’s up?” he says. I can hear the TV loud in the background.
“I’m really sorry about that,” I say.
“Not your fault. I have no idea where you picked up that black bitch, but let me tell you, she is not your friend. At all.”
“I know. It was stupid of me to invite you along. I should’ve just dealt with her.”
“She was out of control. Completely out of control.”
“I guess looking like that can do that to you.”
“It’s no excuse. Seriously. What a bitch.”
It wasn’t really her, I want to say. You didn’t meet her at all.
“I’ll see you in the morning,” Justin says. This is his way of saying we’re not going to talk about this anymore.
“See you in the morning,” I tell him. “And sorry again.”
“Stop. It’s fine.”
No, it isn’t.
I wonder if maybe it isn’t only Ashley’s life that has been hijacked. Maybe mine has been hijacked, too. Maybe I need to focus on the real things, not the fantasy things. Even if A is real, A will never be constant. Justin is my constant.
I’m worried that Justin will be pissed at me for what happened, but mostly he’s pissed at Ashley. When we bump into our friends in the hall before homeroom, he can’t wait to tell everyone what happened.
“Rhiannon has this total slut friend from California who totally made the moves on me last night—with Rhiannon right there! It was wild. She was totally hot, and she could not keep her hands off me. Finally I was like, ‘Hey, what do you think you’re doing?’ And Rhiannon came right in and told her to get the hell off. I swear to you, it was out of control.”
“Dude!” Steve says.
“Yeah. That’s what I’m saying.”
I know this is how guys talk. I know that the point of the story is that he chose me. But it still feels like he’s bragging. It still feels like the point was that this hot, slutty girl wanted to sleep with him.
I’m not going to say anything—I’m just going to let the story be over. But Rebecca picks it up and won’t let it go.
“What exactly is it that makes her a slut?” she asks. “What if she was just flirty?”
“Oh, give it a rest, Rebecca,” Justin spits out. “You weren’t there. You didn’t see this black bitch in action—it was priceless.”
“Now she’s a ‘black bitch’? Really, Justin?” Even though I don’t want her to look at me at all, she turns my way. “Can you tell the rest of us what really happened?”
“He’s right,” I say. “She was out of control.”