Chapter 18
Rue
From the moment Little Birdie’s post went out, a heavy weight of dread has taken up residence in my gut.
What have I done?
I told myself I was protecting Meredith.
That if Carlton really was sneaking around behind her back, she deserved to know before things got worse.
But now I’ve done the worst thing possible…
I’ve spread hurtful gossip, knowing full well it wasn’t the right thing to do.
I took the coward’s way out because I knew confronting Meredith could result in her getting mad at me simply for being the messenger.
Or worse, she might not have believed me and accused me of making it up in a scheme to break her and Carlton up.
But this was wrong. I regretted it as soon as the post went live.
Mabel has been texting me over the past few days saying Meredith hasn’t spoken a word to her, even though she’s tried explaining nothing happened other than talking about Carlton’s personal problems with him.
I’ve seen the proof of Meredith’s turmoil at school.
She’s nowhere to be found at lunch, and during homeroom she sits as far away from Carlton as possible, arms crossed like armor.
And the worst part? Meredith finally started talking to me again this year.
After everything with Carlton last fall, I thought I’d lost her for good. Now I might be the reason she loses her sister?
This is all my fault.
I just wanted to protect her from being hurt by Carlton. But now I realize it was never my job to expose my suspicions. Definitely not anonymously.
Maybe if I’d gone to her face-to-face, things wouldn’t have gone as badly as I feared. Or better yet, I should have minded my own business and let the truth come to light on its own.
The truth smacks me in the face.
I’m no better than the last Little Birdie. And I might not even be a good friend anymore.
Lunch is its own kind of torture over the next few weeks. The cafeteria feels way too bright and loud, like the fluorescent lights are determined to expose every flaw in my character when all I want to do is retreat somewhere I can hide in shame for what I did.
To make myself feel a little better, I post a few good things, for once.
I call out someone who's being a bully in one post, which leads to him getting detention, to my surprise. Apparently, the staff here is more aware of the gossip app than I thought. I also post about a girl in my math class who keeps copying another student’s answers during tests, and sharing them with her friends.
The next time I’m in class, she’s in a new seat across the room from her friends and the girl she kept copying.
It feels good to have made a difference, but it feels worse knowing I could have been doing stuff like this all along instead of what I was actually posting. I’d probably stop posting altogether if doing so wouldn’t result in my identity being exposed for missing my deadlines.
On Wednesday, I pick at my sandwich while Carlton sits in stiff silence across the table, jaw clenched, shoulders squared like he’s in emotional timeout. Dot and Zayne try to keep the vibe light and friendly, and I love them for it. But still, Meredith doesn’t show her face in the cafeteria.
Ezra sits next to me, and his knees bump mine beneath the table. Normally that would short-circuit my entire nervous system, but today, guilt swallows every other emotion.
He nudges my shoulder lightly.
“You okay?”
I force my spine straight. “Yep.”
“Rue.” His voice drops low enough that the others can’t hear. “You’ve barely said a word all week.”
“I just haven’t been sleeping well.”
And it’s true, at least. I spent most of last night staring at the ceiling, trying not to cry, praying for forgiveness, and asking for a sign or a sense of direction.
Instead, all I got was silence.
Or maybe the silence was the direction.
Ezra studies my face, worry etching lines between his brows. “Is it something I did?”
“No.” My voice cracks, and I have to clear my throat. “It’s not you.”
He nods slowly but doesn’t look convinced.
When the bell rings, I practically bolt out of my seat. Ezra hurries after me.
“Rue, wait.” He steps closer, lowering his voice. “Talk to me after school about what’s going on. I know there’s something. I’ll drive you home, or wherever you want to go.”
My heart feels like it’s been soaked in shame and wrung out like a sponge. I shouldn’t say yes, but I nod.
His shoulders drop in relief. “Okay. Good.”
After school, Ezra waits for me at his car, as promised.
Even in the midst of my despair, the way he leans against the passenger side door with his hands in his pockets makes something soft and traitorous stir in my chest. His curls fall over his forehead, and his practice jersey peeks out beneath his hoodie.
The drive is quiet, and not even the comfortable kind. It’s the kind of quiet that only emphasizes my pounding heart.
When he parks in a garage near Sip of Joy, I frown. “What are we doing here? I thought you were taking me home.”
“I am taking you home. After we get you a sip of joy.”
I roll my eyes at the bad pun but crack a smile regardless. The café is bathed in late-afternoon light, and there are only a few customers taking up tables. The quiet inside is such a relief that I finally relax a little.
We sit at one of the small corner booths. Ezra orders us both iced lattes without asking, and when mine is in my hand, I stare at the condensation rolling in beads down the plastic cup.
“Come on,” he says softly. “Talk to me, Sullivan.”
The dam inside me cracks a little.
“I feel horrible,” I whisper.
“About what?”
“Everything. My choices, what happened with Meredith and Mabel, the stupid musical. Everything.”
He leans forward. “Hey. Rue, look at me.”
When I do, my eyes sting.
“You didn’t do anything wrong.”
Oh, Ezra. If only you knew.
“Yes, I did.” I grip my cup tighter. “And it’s so bad I can’t even tell you.”
His warm brown eyes soften. “No, that’s not true. Whatever it is, you don’t have to carry it alone.”
I wish he were right, but I know the truth will make him walk away. Still, it’s probably exactly what I deserve. I swallow hard. “You really want me to tell you?”
“If it will make you feel better, yes.”
My heart lodges in my throat. This is it. I could just tell him. I could hand him my worst secret and trust him with it.
“I—”
A group of students bursts through the café door, their laughter echoing through the space. Ezra glances over instinctively, and the moment evaporates like mist.
“I’m sorry, I can’t,” I say.
Concern flickers across his face. “Can’t tell me right now, or at all?”
“I-I just don’t know if you’d forgive me. And I can’t lose you again. Not when I just got you back.” And I just got Meredith back. If it gets out, I’ll lose her for good.
He leans closer, forcing me to meet his gaze. “Rue. Nothing you could say would make me stop caring about you.”
I want to believe him, and I want to be honest with him after he was honest with me, telling me how sorry he is and wanting me back as his friend. But Little Birdie has already proven how saying too much can only make things worse.
“I think I just need time to figure everything out,” I say.
He nods, but I can see the disappointment in the slump of his shoulders. When he finally drives me home, neither of us speaks. But I know the silence is temporary, and that’s what scares me most.
Secrets always come out. And when mine does, I won’t just lose Ezra. I might lose Meredith too.