Chapter Eighteen
“Good Things Fall Apart”
by ILLENIUM and Jon Bellion
Meera
The next day on the bus, I’m swiping through Instagram Stories while Sushant catches up on the replay of a college football game he missed.
I get to Sushant’s latest Story, and my eyebrows rise.
It’s a photo of him and Lucy posing in front of his car—she looks breathtakingly beautiful, as always—and the text reads Who knew Mr. Hughson was so good with a camera?
I poke him in the shoulder with my finger, and he grunts “Hmm?” and takes one AirPod out, still focused on his phone.
“You met Lucy’s dad?” I ask.
At that, he pauses the video and turns his attention wholly to me, grinning. “Yeah, twice so far. He’s in town for a few more days before he goes back to LA. He’s pretty cool.”
“Oh.” My stomach tightens. I know Sushant is Lucy’s boyfriend and everything, but after her dad dropped by without notice and she brought me with them to the Froyo shop, I thought it would be an experience Lucy would only share with me.
She trusted me that day, more than she has in over a year, and I thought it meant something. To both of us.
But who am I kidding? Of course Sushant has met her father too. She and I aren’t best friends anymore. We’re not anything anymore. She doesn’t owe me a thing. For all I know, Natalie’s met Lucy’s dad too, and she’s been introduced to him as Lucy’s best friend.
And that’s fine. I won’t let it bother me. I mean, it doesn’t bother me. Why would it? We’re nearing school, so I unlock my phone to put it on silent and see a new IG notification:
@lucy_hughson started following you.
Oh my God.
I don’t have a chance to think about it because the bus has stopped and people are getting off. Sushant makes a beeline for Lucy’s parked car, where she waits for him every day. She gives me a small smile and a wave before jumping into Sushant’s arms.
I duck into the building before my subconscious does something stupid like smile back.
Ron and Valeria greet me at our adjoining lockers, and I mumble back a hello.
I lean against my locker and stare at the “Follow back” button on Lucy’s Instagram profile.
What’s gotten into me? Why am I even considering this?
The only reason I let myself get this close to Lucy was so that the Plan would work.
Not because I want to be her friend again.
God, no. She doesn’t deserve another chance after what she did to me.
“Uh, Meera?”
I blink out of my thoughts and return to my friends. I must have missed something they said, because they both frown at me in silence, save for the sound of Valeria munching on potato chips.
“Sorry, I didn’t get that,” I say. “What are we talking about?”
Ron shuffles his feet, not meeting my gaze. “What were you looking at on your phone?”
I turn the screen toward them and lower my voice to a whisper. “Lucy followed me on Instagram. Should I follow her back?”
Valeria crumples the empty packet of chips in her fist and exhales, not bothering to keep her voice down even though the hallway is crowded. “Do you realize that all we talk about whenever we hang out is Lucy? Or your stupid Plan?”
I shush her, but she only shakes her head. “And do you have any idea what we’ve been up to this past month while you’ve been working on that Plan of yours?”
“No, but—”
“After a point, we started to wonder if you even care.” Ron blows a strand of his shaggy hair out of his eyes and folds his arms across his scrawny chest. “Or if the only person who lives rent-free in your head is Lucy fucking Hughson.”
I put my hands on my head and exhale. “Look, I’ve had a lot going on—”
“So have we,” Valeria says, teeth gritted. “Prom is coming up, so Ron—”
“Oh my God!” My eyes widen as I cheer internally. “Are you finally together?”
“What?” Valeria exclaims. “No! Ron finally mustered up the courage to ask Brenda to prom, and she said yes.”
I look from her to Ron, whose lips are pursed. “Who’s Brenda?”
“Brenda Tran, the girl from Chemistry I’ve been crushing on for the past month. The girl I would have told you about if you even cared.”
My back hits my locker as I process this turn of events. I always thought Ron and Valeria had a thing for each other. That all their oblivious flirting was based on mutual attraction. Was I wrong?
“I’m sorry,” I start. “I…I just assumed because you two are always flirting—” Then I clamp my mouth shut. That’s not going to help this situation.
“Flirting? We don’t flirt.” Valeria’s nostrils flare. “Ron, tell her.”
Ron rakes a hand through his hair. His freckles are flaming red. “I mean, I kinda thought we do. Or, at least, used to. But that’s all in the past.”
Valeria stares at Ron, her chest heaving. “Wait, so did you really have feelings for me?”
Silence.
Shit. A bead of sweat rolls down my back under my black tee.
“Ron?” she presses.
“Well.” Ron scratches the back of his neck and looks down at his sneakers. “I did. But I didn’t think you felt the same way, so I moved on.”
“Oh.” She exhales, her eyes closing for a brief moment. “I don’t feel the same way. So…I’m glad you found Brenda.”
Ron might be going to prom with Brenda, but I sense that Valeria’s rejection still stings. He steps back and rubs his forehead with one hand. “Um, thanks.”
You could cut the awkward tension with a knife. Goddamn it. I open my locker, take out my books, and nod at my friends. “See you at lunch?”
They exchange glances, seemingly having a telepathic conversation. Then Valeria’s jaw clenches. “No,” she says. “I need a break from you, Meera.”
My mouth falls open. “Val—”
Ron’s face is slowly turning purple. He tugs on his collar. “Correction: We need a break from you.”
The first bell rings. They grab their things from their lockers and walk away in unison, not even turning back when I call out their names. Fuck, fuck, fuck. I blink back tears as I head to homeroom, texting rapidly in our group chat.
Meera:
Y’all are still coming to my Holi party, right???
Ron is typing…
Valeria is typing…
Ron is typing…
Valeria:
I don’t know
Ron:
Same
I slump against the classroom wall and wipe my face with the back of my hand. Fuck. The thing Val said a long time ago floats into the front of my mind. Just don’t lose yourself in this whole Plan thing, Meera. Because then you’ll lose us too.
But instead of making me feel guilty, the memory only eggs me on more. I open Instagram and follow Lucy back, fuming. Valeria and Ron want to leave me too? Fine. Let them. All I need is for the Plan to work, and then everything will be as it’s meant to be. Who needs friends anyway?
Lucy
By all means, this has been a great week.
Dad took me and Sushant out to dinner last night, and although Mom was passive-aggressive and snarky about it this morning while she made coffee, she didn’t say anything outright rude.
I considered asking her why she never told me about Jade, but then let it be.
I already know the answer, and my heart can’t take any more proof that Mom will never accept me for who I am.
Things did feel a bit awkward when Dad asked Sushant about Syracuse. He asked us if we’ll do long-distance on the off chance NYU doesn’t work out for me. I thought it was understood that’s what we’d do, but I caught the hesitation in Sushant’s smile as he said yes.
As I walk over to the gym for cheer practice after school, I check my phone.
Meera followed me back on Instagram. A warmth settles in my belly, and I bite the inside of my cheek to avoid grinning.
She’s been so nice the past couple months.
I know what I felt for her was real, but I also know my love for Sushant is just as real, although it’s more affectionate than passionate.
The more I avoid Meera, the stronger my so-called attraction to her grows.
Maybe facing her head-on is the way out of my feelings now that I’ve accepted that I’m pansexual.
And maybe…just maybe…Meera and I can be friends again. If she’ll have me.
When I get out of the locker room, dressed in my cheerleader uniform, Coach Michaels flags me down. “Lucy, let’s have a chat real quick,” she says, ushering me over to a corner.
I follow her, turning back once to wave at my cheer squad.
Only one or two of them return the greeting.
Brittney, I notice, is smiling wide. She took two weeks off after our fight during PE, claiming she was hurt.
I don’t believe for a second that she actually bruised her elbows, but that was her excuse, and everyone bought it.
“This isn’t an easy conversation to have,” Coach Michaels starts when we’re a considerable distance away from the rest of the squad, “but the cheerleaders have decided you might not be the best person to lead the team anymore.”
I suck in a breath as her words sink in. “You’re making me step down as cheer captain?”
“Lucy, after that, um, altercation you had with Brittney, there’s been a serious lack of morale and team spirit in the squad.” Coach bows her head. “She and some of the other girls had a chat with me and the vice principal, and we think they’re right.”
A ringing sound pierces my ears, but I grit my teeth and try to stay in the present moment. “So, what happens now? What about the routine for the final game of the year?”
Coach checks her clipboard. “We could go with the routine you choreographed. Brittney’s picked it up well, and she can lead. But let’s have the entire team vote on it.”
I open my mouth to protest, then close it and nod. “All right. I understand.” I’m not going to give Brittney the satisfaction of seeing me pissed off. I can deal with this in a mature manner.
Which, of course, means running up the stairs to my bedroom after practice and screaming into a pillow. Once my throat is hoarse, I go downstairs for a glass of water. Mom’s office door is ajar. She’s on another Zoom call. “Annie, I know exactly how you feel. My ex-husband also ended up—”