Page 27

TWENTY-SEVEN

DANNI

Christmas break in Henland is a full three weeks long, and Rose’s birthday party takes place at the palace the weekend before we go back to school. When Molly and Eleanor come to my house to pick me up, I’m surprised by how much I missed them. We’ve been messaging and stuff, but it isn’t the same, and both of them were away for Christmas—Eleanor with her parents in France, and Molly with her grandparents in Korea. So it’s not like I could visit.

Part of me wonders if that’s why Molly decided to come tonight after all—if she’s missed me, and wanted to hang out. I’m pretty damn sure it’s not because she’s been dying to see Rose, anyway.

While Molly films the room, which seems to be filled mostly with adults, dignitaries and crown-wearing royalty from around the globe, Eleanor tugs me over to an interactive guest book. It’s linked to a projector, I realize, with the birthday messages lit up on a nearby wall. Molly finishes filming and considers the book for a suspiciously long time, like she’s tossing up whether to write something inappropriate in it.

“Don’t you dare,” I tell her. “Everyone will see it.”

She gives me a sheepish smile.

Not far away, mingling in the thick crowd of fancy people, I spot Rose. Rose and Alfie. Everything else fades away as soon as I do.

Rose is wearing a simple, figure-hugging dress that gathers around her waist, with her hair falling in loose curls. She looks perfect, as always. The two of them are standing with Alfie’s parents, cracking up about something. Rose’s arm is snaked tightly around Alfie’s waist. Standing on my tiptoes, I see his fingers brush against her thigh, and I look away, suddenly sick to my stomach.

A few seconds later I peek again, totally unable to help myself. I’m just in time to see Rose rest her head against Alfie’s shoulder as she listens dotingly to something Alfie’s dad is saying. Alfie says something and they all laugh. I bet he’s so fucking funny. I bet he’s charismatic as hell. I bet Rose is having the best birthday ever.

I tear my eyes away and follow Eleanor and Molly to one of the many food stations, which are all headed by chefs taking custom orders. We find Harriet and Florence hovering by the patisserie station, and I grab a fig Danish and force it down.

It tastes rotten.

Not long after we finish shoveling pastries into our mouths—pastries that, according to Harriet, apparently taste awesome when they’re not seasoned by jealousy—the music cuts off and the crowd bursts into murmurs and whispers as people rush to find a seat. A few Ashford guys I don’t recognize fill up the rest of our table and swivel around to face the stage, which is right by us. The king and queen, along with Rose and Alfie, climb up onto it, and when the crowd finally falls silent, the king speaks.

“Welcome, all of you. Thank you for joining us tonight as we celebrate that joyous day seventeen years ago when our future queen entered this world.”

Rose is searching the crowd with a determined eye. I take a deep breath and steady myself. I’m ready for it when her eyes meet mine. They hold my gaze, but her face stays blank.

Even if I never ended things, I wouldn’t be up there with her. Either way, I’d be down here, watching her from an invisible spot in the crowd. Only, now I get to do it without having her to myself in private, either.

“We are so proud of the humble, intelligent, talented young woman that Rosemary has grown to be. I think I speak for all of us when I say…”

Beside Rose, Alfie listens to the king with a rapturous expression, his hand brushing against Rose’s. Her fingers curl up to touch his palm.

I’ve never wanted to be somewhere else more than I do in this exact moment.

“We wish her all the best for her future endeavors. This girl of mine will continue to surprise all of us.…”

Rose is looking at me again. She catches me in the process of staring at Alfie like he’s a mosquito I want to swat away. Or squash. Keeping her eyes fixed on me she takes Alfie’s hand in hers and squeezes it, pressing her shoulder flush against his. Her mouth doesn’t smile, but her eyes sure do.

I might have brought this on myself, but it doesn’t make me any less hurt and angry at her. She didn’t have to punish me more. I’ve been punished enough.

When I look away, I notice Molly’s eyes drifting between Rose and me. Back and forth. I tune back in to the king’s speech right as it wraps up.

“I won’t keep you any longer. Please, continue to enjoy your night. Thank you.”

The crowd bursts into applause, then floods to return to what they were doing. I stand straight up. “I’m going to the bathroom,” I choke out to Molly before escaping.

I make it all the way through the crowd, past the edges of the room, and to the hall where the bathroom entrance is. Right before I go in, though, someone grabs my arm and stops me. Molly followed me, it turns out. “Hold on,” she says. “I think we should talk, and we won’t get any privacy in there.”

She leads me to a spot by the wall, near a tall vase of pink orchids and peonies. There’s no one close enough to eavesdrop here, and it’s loud enough that our voices won’t travel.

“Look,” she says. “I just want to know, in case I can help. Why are you and Rosemary not friends anymore? What went down?”

“Oh, it’s nothing,” I say.

“Really? Because you look like you’re about to cry.”

I’m about ten seconds from crying, yeah. “I’m always about to cry,” I say. “I told you, I’m stressed.”

“Even at the end of a three-week holiday?”

“Yes.”

She doesn’t look convinced. I don’t blame her. I didn’t have enough notice to prepare a good cover story here, and I’m a bad enough liar even when I am prepared. “Rose was looking at you really strangely,” she says.

“Was she?”

“And you were looking at her the same way.”

I wave a hand. “Just listening to the speech.”

“I had some weird comments on that post you asked me to put up of you.”

“People on the internet can be weird.”

“There’s a couple of people who were convinced you and Rose were…”

“Someone thought the same about you, once,” I spit out, way too defensively. “I saw it on a forum somewhere. They thought you and Rose were dating.”

Molly blinks. “What? Where?”

“I know you and Rose never dated,” I say quickly. “But that’s my point. It’s funny what people will come up with, isn’t it?”

“Uh-huh,” Molly says flatly. She checks for potential eavesdroppers, then meets my eyes. “And what about you and Rose?”

“What about us?” I ask weakly.

Molly keeps her eyes locked on me. “You can tell me to piss off if you want,” she says. “I know I’m crossing a major boundary right now, and it’s none of my business.”

She doesn’t say “but,” but I hear it anyway. And I have to figure out what to say, fast, because saying nothing is as good as outing Rose. And denying it? Am I that good an actor? Or will I basically out Rose through my sheer panic? Door A sucks, and door B sucks, and the longer I take to pick one the less likely she’ll believe whatever I do say.

“It’s not me and Rose,” I say. “It’s just me.”

And there. Just like that, it’s out in the world again. Now three living people know I’m not straight. And, surprisingly, it doesn’t feel as scary as I thought it would. Maybe because I trust Molly, more than most people I’ve ever met. Maybe because Molly made it clear the day I met her she doesn’t have a problem with sapphics. But even still, this is big. It’s big, and it’s done, and she doesn’t seem freaked out at all. I did it.

I did it.

I can tell right away Molly believes me, from the way her face softens and her eyebrows shoot up. So, encouraged, I lie some more. “I’ve liked her for a while, and I told her last month, and she didn’t feel the same, and it hurt my feelings, so I told her I wanted some space for a while. I thought if I didn’t see her as much I’d get over it, but I haven’t gotten over it. And I’m pretty sure she’s mad at me for ending our… friendship. So, it’s all sort of on me for ending it to begin with, and I’ve just hurt both of us, but I don’t know how to take it back.”

It’s so good to get it out. And even though half of it is bullshit, the gist of it is still there.

“Why do you think she’s mad at you?” Molly asks.

“She’s pretty much acting like I don’t exist.”

Molly leans in, and she looks serious and apologetic all at once. “Look, I don’t mean this to hurt your feelings, or make it harder for you, but Rose shuts people out. Easily. She doesn’t care if she’s hurting you, she only cares about herself, and what she wants, and what’s best for her. So don’t… don’t think you need to figure out how to make it up to her. It’s not a crime to have feelings for someone, and it shouldn’t have had to mean the end of your friendship. And if you asked to end it, it’s obviously because you were hurt. Someone who cared would’ve given you some time to cool off, and then they would’ve reached back out. But she doesn’t care.”

“Yes she does. I just—”

“She doesn’t care, ” Molly repeats. “Trying to drag empathy out of Rose is like hoping a dictator softens up on their own. Hoping for it will only hurt you more in the long run.”

I think about how weirdly calm and detached Rose has been. Ignoring me, looking past me, the way she shut down when I ended things with her in that eerily calm way. I can see why Molly feels the way she does, I really do. And Molly’s known Rose basically her whole life, so maybe she’s right, and I’m wrong.

But Rose smoked weed a few weeks ago after promising she wouldn’t anymore. And Rose has thrown herself into whatever this thing is with Alfie. And Rose barely took her eyes off me just now while she pressed right up against him. I’m not arguing Rose is being saintly here. But is she uninterested? Unaffected? Totally fine? I find that hard to believe.

Also, something’s been bugging me. A memory of mine.

“I’ve told you how I was bullied last year,” I say. “It went on for a while. At first I cried, a lot. But one day I stopped crying. It’s like I used up all my tears and I just felt numb for a long time. I went inside myself. It helped me get through the worst of the bullying, but it also meant it took my mom ages to figure out I needed help. Because I looked like I was doing okay.”

Molly sighs. “I see where you’re going with this, but—”

“I don’t think she acts okay because she is okay,” I cut her off. “I think she acts like this when she isn’t.”

Molly gives me a pitying look, which, to be honest, I resent a little. “Are you sure that’s not just what you want to believe?” she asks.

I stare her down. “Maybe,” I say. “But are you sure you haven’t been too hard on her?”

She blinks fast in a way that tells me I hit a nerve. I guess it’s the first time I’ve given Molly any real opinion on their fight, other than listening to her and telling her I hear where she’s coming from. But that’s the thing. I do hear where she’s coming from. And what I’m hearing is, maybe she assigned one meaning to Rose’s behavior when the truth is something different altogether. If Molly doesn’t want to be Rose’s friend for fair reasons, then that’s fine. But if Molly just doesn’t understand what’s going on with Rose, then I can’t stay out of it. It’s Rose. If she needs me to have her back when she’s not here to stick up for herself, then that’s what’s going to happen. Every time. Over and over again, if I have to.

“There’s a difference,” I say, “between shutting people out, and shutting down.”

“Excuse me,” Molly says, taking a step backward.

My resolve shakes a little. “Are you mad at me?” I ask quickly.

She gives me a small smile. “No. I’ll be back soon.”

So, I watch her disappear into the crowd, and try to fight off the sinking feeling that I’ve seriously put my foot in it now.