Page 21

WAVERLY

O h, crap. Scrambling, I threw off my covers and popped from the bed to check the mirror.

“Shit.” I looked like I’d been crying and considering suicide. Not good.

The bell rang again.

With no time to do much else, I brushed at my face with both hands and hurried from my room and down the stairs.

I was already texting my parents as I popped off the last step and dashed to the front door since they were no doubt getting a notification at this very moment about a person being on their front porch.

That’s just Xander. Hope must’ve told her about the police being here when I got home, and now she’s checking in on me. I didn’t know she was going to show up, or I would’ve said something sooner. Sorry.

I pressed send and opened the door, realizing belatedly that I was still in my pajamas.

“Oh, Frankie,” Xander gushed in concern as soon as she saw my face.

I shook my head as I blinked at her. “Wha?—?”

“I called Hope since you said she drove you home,” she explained, wringing her hands. “She gave me your address. Can I come inside?”

“I—” Well, she was already here, and no one had ever bothered to track me down and check on me before, aside from my parents, so I opened the door and stepped back to let her in. “I guess.”

She smiled gratefully. “Hope also told me your parents were out of town, and that you’d be home alone right now. So…” She shrugged. “I thought you might like some company.”

I winced. “You heard about the police, huh?”

She winced right back, sympathizing. “Yeah.”

“Yeah,” I repeated with a depressed mumble as I glanced down at my bare feet.

“Look,” she started a moment later. “I know you’re not okay.

That’s why I’m here. I’m worried and ready to talk or listen or just…

hang out. Whatever you need. This is my fault for pressuring you into going tonight, and I need to make it right.

Seriously, it doesn’t matter to me if you think you’re going to suck at the friend thing.

My best friend abandoned me to go off and screw French whores in Europe, meaning, apparently, I’m not that amazing at friendships either. So let’s just…suck together. Okay?”

I blinked at her, lured by her speech. Tears burned my nose as I nodded.

“Okay,” I rasped hoarsely and motioned toward the second level, choked up by her kindness. “My room’s upstairs. Do you want to…?”

She nodded, looking hopeful. “Yes, I would like that very much. Thank you.”

“Alright.” I cleared my throat and led her up the steps.

But once we were inside my room, I had no idea what to do. I stood in the middle of the floor, shuffling my weight from one foot to the other uneasily.

Thankfully, Xander was better versed about this type of situation, and she went to my mussed bed, plopping down on the mattress so she could sit upright with one leg tucked under her.

After snatching my stuffed cow from the pillows against the headboard, she started to pet its tail as she glanced up with an expectant wince, making it obvious she was ready to talk.

“So your parents are pretty strict, huh?” she asked, heaving out a heavy, apologetic sigh.

“I mean, not really.” I slumped to the bed and sat on the other side of the mattress, facing her. “They’re just…overly involved. If I hadn’t left my phone at home, it would’ve been okay. I really shouldn’t have forgotten that.”

“Why?” Xander shook her head, not understanding. “Do they track you with it or something?”

I nodded my head. “Yeah.”

Her eyes widened in alarm. “Holy shit.”

“Not in a bad way, though,” I tried to reassure her. “They just…” I blew out a long breath, trying to think of the best way to defend my parents without outing myself, but…

The only way to explain was to out myself.

I wiped a hand over my face in frustration. “I feel like I was sick on the day at school when they taught everyone how to be a mature, sociable human being because I’m always, like, five years behind everyone else. It’s embarrassing and humiliating, and I just—I don’t know how to… be .”

Xander lifted one shoulder and gave me a sad look. “Honestly, I don’t think any of us really know what we’re doing. We’re all floundering around and faking it until something in our world finally fits.”

I sent her a hard look. “Well, why does your floundering have to look classy and graceful? I swear, I have to be the most awkward, messed-up?—”

“Stop,” she urged, reaching out to grip my knee. “Give yourself a little slack, will you? It’s not your fault you have overprotective parents who’ve kept you from experiencing life for yourself.”

Sending her a dry look, I muttered, “Except it kind of is. I’ve made a lot of mistakes to prompt them to be this way.”

She only shook her head, denying it, and sent me a sympathetic look. “I’m not convinced. Want to share some of those huge, awful mistakes with me?”

“No,” I admitted bluntly. “They’re really bad.”

With a sudden smile, she rubbed her hands together. “Then I definitely want to hear about them. The juicier the better.”

I huffed out a small smile, even as I knew she wouldn’t be saying that if she knew everything. “Trust me, they’re not so juicy, just…depressing.”

“Come on,” she urged, nudging my knee again with a charming grin. “I’ve told you all kinds of dirt about me. It’s your turn.”

I swallowed, thinking her dirt was nothing compared to the slime and utter filth that coated my secrets. But I tested the waters anyway by blurting, “I hooked up with someone tonight.”

“Wha—?” Her eyes flared with shock as she pulled back to gape at me. “Are you serious?” When I nodded, she fumbled for more words before asking, “At the party ?”

After I gave her another nod, she shook her head. “So you had sex, like, tonight ?” she had to reiterate just to make sure she was hearing me right.

“No,” I admitted. “But we did everything else. And I mean, everything else.”

Her mouth fell open. “But… When? There—there was barely an hour from the time I lost track of you to when I finally got you on the phone. And you were—” Cutting off abruptly, her features filled with horror before she pressed her hands to her mouth and whispered through her fingers, “Oh my God, you were crying when I showed up. Were you forced? Did you—do you need to go to the hospital?”

I blinked at her, startled by the question. Then I blurted out a sound of amusement at the irony of it.

Xander shook her head slowly before asking, “Why is that funny?”

“Because…” I drew in a long breath, held it, and confessed, “Tonight was the only time I wasn’t forced.”

She blinked, hugging Bessie to her chest tight enough that I was surprised she didn’t squish all the stuffing out before she whispered, “I’m sorry, what ?”

So there it was. I’d told my first person who wasn’t family or a therapist.

“Wait.” She paused herself and began to knead my cow through her hands as if he were a stress ball. “Are you saying you—wow. Let’s put a pin in what happened tonight. When were you—oh my God. Waverly .”

When words failed her, I glanced down at my hands and asked, “Have you ever heard of the scandal at the Westport Children’s Grief Center?”

“Of course,” she said immediately, hugging Bessie once again. “Foster used to go there. That’s where he met his best friends. He was devastated when he heard?—?”

Eyes flaring wide, she shook her head. “No,” she told me. “Holy shit, Frankie. No. Please do not tell me you were one of the girls that Gerald Sprout?—”

When I flinched at those two words and felt the color drain from my face, Xander broke off abruptly, apologizing. “I’m sorry. Oh my God. I’m so sorry. You probably don’t like hearing that name.”

I shook my head and shuddered, not able to make eye contact. “No. No, I don’t,” I whispered.

“Oh, Waverly.” She sobbed out a pained sound. “Oh... I need to hug you. Right now.”

Flinging Bessie to the side, she dove across the mattress and opened her arms to swallow me in a desperate embrace. “This is awful. This is just…”

“It happened a long time ago,” I told her as she pulled away, trying to lessen the importance.

But Xander sputtered, “I don’t care if it happened fifty years ago. This is not something to just shrug off.”

Feeling properly chastised, I glanced down at my hands. “Yeah,” I mumbled. “I guess.” With a shrug, I looked up to send her a small smile. “For the longest time, I wasn’t even able to handle hugs, but?—”

“Oh shit,” she gasped, lifting her hands and leaning away to give me space. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t even think about that.”

So I finished with, “But I’m getting better with them.”

“And you just…” Shaking her head slowly, she studied me closely before she waved her hands and admitted, “I’m sorry. I can’t even imagine what that had to have been like for you.”

I lifted one shoulder. “I’m not sure how to describe it either.”

“Right,” she said, then blew out a breath. “Wow.” She sat there a moment, letting that sink in before she lifted her gaze to me. “So tonight…?”

“He went outside,” I said and began to wring my hands.

“I knew he was going out there to meet another girl. I don’t know why I followed him.

I just—I was curious. I don’t—I don’t know anything about how normal college people are supposed to—but I wasn’t going to, like, watch them or anything.

I just—” Cupping my head in my hands, I admitted, “I don’t know what I was doing. ”

Xander patted my arm. “It’s okay.”

But I shook my head. “No. It’s not. I never should’ve followed him. I don’t know what I was thinking. I wasn’t thinking. I was just—I was curious.”

And jealous.

“Right,” she said, only to furrow her brow. “So how did that end up with you and him doing…things together?”

“It was dark,” I admitted. “He heard me following him. And he thought I was her.” When Xander’s mouth dropped open in absolute shock, I cringed and whispered, “I know. I’m awful. I just kept letting him think I was her.”

“Oh. My. God,” she uttered.

Covering my face with both hands, I cringed. “I know .”