Chapter 17
Seventeen
My parents aren’t home. I didn’t expect them to be, since they have jobs and I’m supposed to be in school, but I could use my mom to talk to.
Kevin loves that I’m home, following me around and barking when I accidentally close a door before she enters the room, so at least I have someone here even if she doesn’t understand anything I’m saying.
Sitting around worrying and ignoring texts from my friends while obsessively flicking through social media to see what people are saying about me isn’t helping me feel any less shitty, so I decide to paint.
Changing a blank white canvas into something beautiful using different strokes, textures, and colors is my favorite part of painting.
It’s almost awe-inspiring to know that I can make a flat surface appear to have depth, make it come to life, and make you feel something while looking at it.
I love to play with colors and concepts to make portraits take on a life of their own, to show someone’s whole personality through my interpretation of them on the canvas.
Starting from nothing and having free rein to play is fun for me.
So the fact that I’ve been staring at this blank canvas since I got home only makes me feel shittier about everything that’s going on.
I’ve already finished Daphne’s portrait and given it to her, but now that I get to start fresh, my mind is as blank as the canvas. I can’t focus. Painting is my escape, and I can’t even do that because of everything going on.
Kalani. Arthur. Emi. Pukey McBarfface. Everything is a mess in my mind, and no matter how many deep breaths I take to clear it enough to focus on my art, more jumbled thoughts keep popping up.
After another five minutes of standing in the corner of my room holding a dry paintbrush, the doorbell rings.
I ignore it. No one rings the doorbell during the day except people trying to solicit or package delivery services.
I have no desire to deal with the former, and the latter will leave whatever we ordered on the porch.
The doorbell rings again, and Kevin jumps off my bed and runs down the hall, then back to me, then back down the hall, repeating the process.
“I’m not answering the door, Kevin,” I tell her, still staring at the canvas.
She either doesn’t understand or doesn’t care, because she redoubles her efforts when the doorbell rings again.
Wow, that is a very persistent window cleaning service solicitor.
“They’ll just leave a pamphlet on the doorknob and be on their way now, Kevin,” I tell my dog, who doesn’t believe me and runs back down the hall with a bark.
My phone vibrates, and I pull it from my pocket to see Emmett’s name pop up on my screen.
Emmett’s here? I’m not in the mood to deal with anyone right now, never mind Emmett, but I can’t exactly leave him waiting outside, especially when he knows I’m home and clearly won’t leave until I answer the door.
Kevin barks again, and I shove my phone into my pocket without reading the text.
“Fine, Kevin. You win,” I mumble, reluctantly dropping my brush and accompanying her down the stairs.
When I reach the door, I smooth out my hair and take a breath for patience, then open it and freeze.
It’s not Emmett. It’s Jay.
“What are you doing here?” I ask.
He’s one of the last people I expected to see here. The last time we talked was over text on Friday, while I was out with Wyatt. How did he know I was home?
“I’ve seen the video,” he says, and my heart sinks.
If our past has taught me anything, it’s that he’s probably dying to make fun of me.
I just can’t believe he came to do it in person and was so persistent about it too.
But even if it is Jay and I’ve come to really enjoy our banter, I’m not in the mood right now.
“Great. And you’re here to laugh at me too? I’ve had enough of that this morning, thanks.”
I start to close the door, but he throws a hand out to stop me. “Wait, really? Is that what you think of me? Still?”
I stare at him, mentally hardening myself so I don’t cry.
I can’t cry. I’ve cried all morning, and I don’t want to start again in front of Jay.
“On top of the Pukey McBarfface stuff, people are saying my friends have been paying my dates, and the only person Kalani offered something for dating me was you. Where would people be getting that idea if not from you?” My lip wobbles.
I’ve been trying not to think about Jay because this betrayal hurts more than I can even admit.
Don’t cry. “Why would you tell people about that? Were you pissed you didn’t get the concert tickets?
I’m the school joke, Jay. How could you do that to me? ”
Jay steps back like I slapped him, even though there are a few feet between us.
“Really, Carina? After everything, you still think I’d do that to you?
I guess it doesn’t matter what actually happened, you’ve clearly made up your mind about me.
I know where I stand. You’ll always think I’m not good enough for you, Princess. ”
He shakes his head and turns to leave, but I’m not done yet. Everyone’s betraying me, everyone I thought was my friend is turning out to be working against me, and I can’t take it anymore. I can’t take the hurt. It stings my chest and my eyes and my throat, and I need some kind of outlet.
“Tell me why you did it. Was it one last way to stick it to us snobby Oakwoods kids you hate so much?”
Jay storms back to me, his dark eyes more intense than I’ve ever seen them before.
“Open your eyes, Carina! I’m here because I saw the video and I turned my ass around and went straight to Oakwoods to find you.
Before I could even get out of my car, Emi intercepted me and demanded to know why I told people about Kalani offering to pay me for dating you.
She said it’s making the rumors worse, which, fine, makes sense.
But I’ll tell you the same thing I told her: I never said anything to anyone.
I don’t even go to your school—how could I make the rumors worse?
I shouldn’t even have to clear this up with you. I’d never do any of that to you!”
He’s right in front of me now, forcing me to tilt my head up to meet his angry eyes, and the fierceness in them knocks some of the fury from my system.
He saw the video and heard the rumors and went straight to Oakwoods to find me.
Then he came here to check on me. I believe him, and a small part of me always knew Jay wouldn’t betray me.
He cares. He has to. And I actually trust Jay.
I open up to him and tell him things and feel comfortable being honest with him because he’s shown time and time again that he’s trustworthy.
But if it wasn’t him, then who? Rumors have to come from somewhere. The puking stuff is self-explanatory, but no one knew about paying for dates except Jay.
Jay, like always, knows where my thoughts are heading. “Put the pieces together, Princess. The only people who know about it are you, me, and your friends, and we know you and I didn’t say anything.”
My voice loses its harshness. “Are you saying my friends turned me into the school joke? Why would they do that?”
Jay softens just the smallest bit before he masks it.
“I don’t know, Princess. I can’t do all the thinking for you.
I’ll get off your porch before you go full entitled princess on my ass.
” He turns and takes a few steps but then shakes his head and comes back to me.
“You know, you should just say how you feel and be honest with people instead of stringing them along, Carina.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
His eyes roam my face, heating me from the inside out, before he says, “You know exactly what it means.”
This time, when he turns to leave, he doesn’t stop.
He storms all the way to his car, gets in, and drives off without a second glance.
I watch the entire thing from the same spot he left me in, my hands shaking, my heart pounding, and my head more confused than ever.
Did my friends tell everyone about the dates and bribing Jay?
Are they the reason all the horrible memes and rumors about me are being passed around?
And what does Jay mean about being honest with people instead of stringing them along? I don’t do that. Do I?
I stand there with the door open behind me, letting all the bugs in, staring at nothing for what must be five minutes before Kevin barks to get my attention. I follow her inside and close the door, walking back up the stairs to my room with heavy legs.
My phone vibrates in my back pocket, and I remember the text from Emmett I never answered. The newest text is from Mom, asking why she got a call from the school saying I never showed up to first period.
I text her back.
Skipped. Had a substitute teacher.
Not a complete lie, since our teacher told us on Friday she wouldn’t be in today. I can’t tell Mom what’s going on, especially over text. I’m sure she’ll find out before I have the chance to tell her anyway.
I click on Emmett’s text, expecting to see him to trying to comfort me, make me feel like everything’s all right, like I always imagined Emmett would do when I still had a crush on him. When I read it, though, I’m surprised by how unsurprised I am.
Are you okay, Carina? Kids are assholes, ignore them. But you should come back to school, we shouldn’t skip class a week before exams.
I scoff out loud. Of course he’s concerned with exams. That’s such an Emmett text.
I don’t even know why past Carina would’ve expected anything different.
Emmett has always been a stickler for the rules, for doing what’s right over caring about people’s feelings or what’s truly best for them.
Maybe the hearts in my eyes blinded me from seeing it before. But I know it now, and it’s annoying.
He doesn’t understand that I’m allowed to take a personal day to mull over everything and wallow.
He definitely doesn’t understand that I can’t face everyone right now with my puking image and my reputation for being a loser who can’t get a date all over the internet.
He didn’t even try to call to see how I was feeling.
Jay heard the news and went to Oakwoods right away to find me, then he drove here.
He didn’t care about skipping school before exams, he cared about me.
And I was a complete bitch to him.
I step into my room, and the corner all set up to paint stares back at me. I have all these emotions that are just dying to be released. I didn’t know what to paint when I first stood here, but now my hands itch to get started, to get the image onto the canvas.
I place Kevin on top of my bed, where she curls up to fall asleep, then I set up some shades of pink, pick up my paintbrush, and begin to paint.