Chapter Twenty-Five
“Nobody Compares To You”
by Gryffin feat. Katie Pearlman
Lucy
I’m in no mood to return to Madre Maria after spring break.
Disneyland was wonderful. I hadn’t been in years, afraid of revisiting old places and memories, but with Dad and Jade, it was like I was a little kid again.
We took selfies and ate cotton candy and corn dogs; Jade and I waved and booed at Dad from roller coasters he refused to join us on, and I felt at home with him after so many years.
I’m glad I decided to give him another chance.
Touring UCLA was even better. The library is huge, they have a thriving book club, and the campus is beautiful. I can’t wait to experience college life.
As for going back to high school? The only thing I’m looking forward to is telling Natalie and Julien about spring break at my dad’s.
What I dread is people knowing Sushant and I broke up—or, worse still, the reason we broke up. I trust Sushant not to say anything. He would never out me publicly; he loved me so much that any resentment he feels toward me will remain in his heart and not linger on his tongue.
But I don’t trust Meera. After all, her plan did say she wanted to “dethrone” me. Wouldn’t that include painting me as the villain for cheating on Sushant?
“You didn’t cheat,” Natalie’s voice echoes in my AirPods as I drive to school. “Sushant asked for a break from you, remember?”
“Technicality,” I mumble, stopping at a traffic light. “Julien, what do you think?”
Natalie’s put the call on speaker so Julien can chime in while he drives them in his rental car. “I do not know,” he says, coughing softly. “But we’ll get through today together.”
I exhale. He coughed, which means he’s lying. He does think I cheated. I don’t blame him—my anger toward Meera in no way compares to my guilt and disappointment in myself. I broke the heart of the best guy in the world. I don’t deserve his forgiveness.
When I park my Honda in my usual spot and get out, Natalie and Julien are already waiting for me.
They envelop me in a group hug, and we walk into school together.
Heads turn and hushed whispers follow in my wake, but when we get to my locker, no insults are spray-painted on it, nor does anyone say anything to me.
I see the football team standing by Sushant’s locker with him.
With his head down, shoulders slumped, and dark circles around his eyes, he seems…
miserable. Not to mention that it looks like he hasn’t shaved in days.
Some of his friends notice me and whisper to him.
He turns to smile weakly at me, then walks away, a textbook tucked under his arm.
People around us notice the interaction, and the whispers start again. “See?” Natalie says. “Now everyone can see you’re on good terms.”
“I guess,” I say. My eyes fall on the glittery huge blue-and-gold Senior Prom! banner hanging from the ceiling, and my stomach coils. “Sushant never got to ask me to prom. He said he’d planned a whole promposal and everything.”
Julien clears his throat. “Everyone deserves a promposal.”
Natalie squeezes my hand. “I’m sorry, Lucy.”
I grab some books and shut my locker. “Shall we head to class?”
“Um…” Julien shuffles in place, tugging on his collar. “Natalie, don’t you want to check your locker?”
She holds up her handbag that hangs from her left wrist. “I’ve got what I need here.”
“Buuuuut,” he says, stretching out the word, “I have a feeling we should check your locker anyway.”
“Julien, it’s getting late—”
My eyes fall on his bobbing throat and his crossed fingers. Has he planned something? “He’s right, Natalie,” I say. “We should stop by your locker.”
The look on Julien’s face is immediate relief and gratitude. “Oui! Let’s go.”
“What—”
We all but drag Natalie farther down the hallway. A small crowd has already gathered around her locker. When we push through and stop just short of it, she gasps, her hands flying to her face.
A heart-shaped red piece of paper with the letters J + N is taped to her locker. She turns to Julien, her eyes misty. “Did…Did you…?”
“Open your locker, Natalie,” he says, smiling, his hands in the pockets of his well-cut black trousers.
She does as he says with trembling fingers, and over a dozen multicolored Post-it notes fall down at her feet.
We bend to gather them, and she reads some of the messages on them out loud.
They range from Natalie is so pretty and I could look at her forever to She is everything and I think I am falling for her.
Tears are streaming down Natalie’s face as she scans note after note.
“I wrote one every week since we first met,” Julien admits. “But I have one final note for you.” He pulls a piece of pink paper from his pocket, unfolds it, and holds it up for everyone to see. Prom? “I love you, Natalie. Will you go to prom with me?”
Natalie howls with joy, “Yes! I love you too!” She drops the notes, wraps her arms around him, and kisses him. Students in the hallway cheer and clap, but I’m the loudest of them all, because nobody deserves true love more than Natalie and Julien. Not even me.
Just as I have that thought, Meera pokes her head out from the back of the crowd and waves at me. “Lucy! Can we talk?”
Natalie pulls away at the sound of Meera’s voice, her lips in a snarl. “Let’s get out of here.” She takes Julien’s hand and mine, and we walk to class. I look back once to see Meera still standing there, mouthing, “Please?” at me. I hold my head up and turn, eager to put distance between us.
Meera
This sucks. School is almost done for the day, and all Lucy has done is ignore me, with Natalie acting like a defensive, furious, scowling bodyguard.
Julien was by their side the whole time, and although I was hoping he’d side with me after our conversation in his car, he’s clearly Team Natalie after that promposal, which means he’s Team Lucy by default.
So I need to plan ahead. Ten minutes before the dismissal bell rings, I tell my Calculus teacher, Mr. Saxe, that I have agonizing period cramps and need to grab my pain medicine before I collapse.
His face pales, and he swallows as his eyes dart to the wall clock. Old male teachers never know what to say when the topic of reproductive health comes up. “Grab your things and go,” he says, waving me away with his hand, then mumbles, “Uh, take care.”
I sling my backpack over my shoulder and race for the door, one hand still clamped around my stomach like the pain is unbearable.
I pass by my locker and head through the front doors, toward the parking lot.
Lucy won’t have cheer practice now that the final game of the year has ended.
If I just wait for her by her car, there’s no way she can avoid me.
I stand under the shadows of the trees, tapping my shoe restlessly until the buzzing chatter of students fills the parking lot. Five minutes in, there’s no sign of her. Ugh. Should I just leave? No—I can be patient. I’m patient. I’m as patient as anyone could ever be. Right?
Finally, when most cars have driven away, she walks into my line of sight, and I run ahead to intercept her.
She puts a hand to her chest in alarm when she spots me, but her expression quickly fades to anger. “Go away!” she exclaims, heading for her car.
“Lucy, please wait!” I tug on her arm, letting go within seconds when I feel that burst of electricity between our skin.
Lucy blinks and steps away, putting some distance between us, though she’s at least facing me.
She rubs the side of her elbow where my fingers were seconds ago, as if the ghost of my touch still remains, and raises her gaze to mine.
“What more do you want from me, Meera?” Her voice is hardened, defeated.
“Haven’t you taken enough from me already? ”
I look around us at the almost-empty parking lot and lower my voice. “I know you were in my room that night.”
“What night?” She blinks in mock confusion. “The night you kissed me in front of my boyfriend so you could check off the fourth bullet point on your master Plan?”
Words fail me. I was right; she saw everything. She knows everything. “Lucy, I—I can explain.”
“Explain what?” She grips the hem of her dress with a fist and takes another step back. “How you waltzed right back into my life when I clearly did not want you in it in the first place, and then played me like a fool just to get your revenge?”
“It might have started out like that, but I promise you, I didn’t kiss you to—”
“I shouldn’t be talking to you.” Lucy shakes her head and wipes the side of her eye. “I have to go. Let me go.”
“Please let me explain,” I beg as she turns to leave for her car. “Just give me a minute of your time.”
Lucy stops in her tracks. Her chest heaves, and then she walks back up to me. “I hated how our friendship ended, and now that you’ve proven what kind of person you are, I shouldn’t have any regrets. But it breaks my heart that I still—”
“The kind of person I am?” My voice is shrill. “Did you forget that all this happened because being popular mattered to you more than our friendship? Because you’re the one who replaced me with Natalie and then started dating the boy I thought I had loved since forever!”
She pauses, her sleek fingers on her car’s door handle, her head bowing in defeat. “I did that so you’d never talk to me again. I didn’t have a choice.”
“What are you saying?” I run a hand through my long hair, frizzy from the humidity. “Why would you want that?”
“I’m…I’m pansexual, Meera.” Her voice cracks. “And I didn’t want to have feelings for you then any more than I want to now.”
She’s pansexual. I gasp, my heart somersaulting in my chest as the second part of her sentence hits me. “You…you had feelings for me?”
She gives an offhanded shrug, but her gaze is narrowed. “I guess nothing’s changed, has it? Because I know if I spend even a minute longer in your presence, I’ll…” She exhales, her eyes closing. “I’ll fall in love with you. Again.”
I suck in a breath at her words. She—did she just say she loves me? In spite of all this? I smile and start toward her, to touch her, to hold her, to tell her I love her too, but then she speaks, and my world comes crashing down.
“And you’ll break my heart. Again.” Lucy chuckles sadly.
“But this time, Meera, you’ll do it on purpose.
Because that’s just the kind of person you are.
” With that, she unlocks her car, slides behind the wheel, and drives off, leaving me in the parking lot, my jaw slack and my heart thudding painfully in my chest.
There’s nothing left for me to do but go home.
I don’t dare stop by the café, because I can’t face my parents in this state.
One look at me, and Appa will know everything.
I’m not ready for Dad to tell me I should have seen this coming or for Appa to remind me that I was my own undoing—just as he’d predicted.
I walk home in the sharp sunlight that stings the back of my neck, drenching my black T-shirt in sweat.
When I unlock the front door, Raj runs over to me, wagging his tail and jumping high enough to lick my face.
I smile ruefully at him and head upstairs.
I’d usually crumple into bed and sleep my pain away, but instead, I head to my desk.
Appa gifted me my own tarot and oracle decks during sophomore year of high school.
I’ve only pulled cards for myself twice over the years—the first time was when I got the decks, to see what the future held for me and Sushant; the second time was when Lucy ended our friendship, to figure out why she could have done it.
Both readings had the same message for me: Have trust in your Angels, because everything is unfolding in your favor.
In short, the readings were useless.
This will be the third time I read my own fortune.
I open Spotify and play the tarot reading music I found years ago that claims to strengthen your psychic abilities. Then I light a peppermint-and-rosemary-scented candle, arrange my favorite crystals like a frame around the decks, and, finally, start to pray like Appa taught me to.
“God, Angels, Universe,” I breathe, tears pricking my eyes, “help me understand where you’re leading me. Help me undo my mistakes. Help me change Lucy’s mind. I am willing to do the work, and I am ready for your guidance. Please, and thank you.”
My hands shuffle the tarot deck back and forth until three cards fall out on their own. I turn them around. Ten of Swords. Judgment. Ace of Cups.
A teardrop falls on the Judgment card. The messages staring back at me are clear as day: Something is ending, causing me suffering and pain, and yet something transformational and healing is on its way.
The way through is weighing the situation at hand, repenting for what I’ve done, and choosing forgiveness.
But I’m not the one who has to choose forgiveness—Lucy is.
I shuffle the oracle cards next, whispering to myself while I do, “Spirit, what can I do to make Lucy forgive me faster?”
A card falls out of the pile within seconds.
I flip it over and grit my teeth. It’s the same oracle card that came up when I did the second reading, about my friendship ending.
Archangel Michael smiles up at me, his wings unfurled, a sapphire-hilted sword in his hands.
The message on the card reads Trusting the Divine: You are loved.
Your Angels will keep you safe. Surrender and allow a shift in divine timing.
I throw down my hands and scatter all the cards on my desk as my cheeks burn with salt water. “Fuck you, Archangel Michael!” I yell, pushing my chair back and grabbing fistfuls of my hair. “Fuck you, Spirit! And fuck you, Universe!”
My door bursts open, and I jump. Dad stands before me, one hand on the knob, his eyes wide and mouth agape. “Meera? What happened?”
I shoot up from the chair and fall to his side, sobbing. Dad doesn’t hesitate. He lifts me up in his arms and kisses the top of my head, murmuring that he loves me, that he’s here for me, that we can figure it out.
Empty words. Because how can I figure this out when nothing is in my control? How can I undo the pain I caused Lucy? She said she loved me once—when? Was that all in the past?
Even the Universe has no clear answer for me except to have trust. But where has trust gotten me? What have I gained from this Plan? Popularity? Confidence? How does that matter when I’ve lost not just Sushant and Lucy but also Ron and Valeria?
“I…” I pull away from Dad’s grasp and wipe my snotty nose with the back of my hand. “I need to apologize to Valeria and Ron. For once, I need to do the right thing and be a good person, a good friend.”
Dad bends down so he’s eye level with me. Putting his hands on my shoulders, he says, “You are a good person. Go get ’em, kiddo.”
I smile at him through my tears. “I will.”