Chapter Eighteen
Sean
“You should’ve come with us yesterday,” Jake says to Dylan after practice on Tuesday, tossing his sweat-drenched shirt into his gym bag. “You missed a great show.”
Dylan slams his locker shut, then pounds on it twice for good measure. “I thought you didn’t go to the movies.”
“No, watching Flora feed Sean ice cream. She was really laying it on thick.”
Dylan turns to me and whistles. “Seany . . . what’s going on?”
“Nothing’s going on,” I say.
“You’re holding out on me?” Jake says, mock offended. “Your mentor, who taught you everything about dating and hidden make-out spots?” He shared one chill location at the Viewpoint, didn’t make me cite sources, and now apparently I owe him everything.
“And look how successful Sean turned out under your expert guidance,” Dylan says, somehow landing a clean double kill like it’s Fortnite.
I zip up my gym bag, letting their jokes roll off me.
Maybe I’m not making strides on the dating front, but this exes-turned-friends thing?
Huge progress. Holding a grudge over the whole cheating mess would’ve been easy, but that chapter closed long ago.
It hurt, sure, but somewhere along the way, bitterness lost its potency and metabolized into a guilty pleasure.
She flirts, I can flirt back. Having a friend is preferable to having an adversary. I can forgive and forget.
As long as I’m careful not to let her disarm me again.
“What’s the point of getting back together? You’ve been there and done that.” As usual, everything Dylan says has the potential to be obscene. “It’s the surprise factor that counts.”
“I’m not getting back with Flora, but your theories are totally unconvincing. How many times have you gotten back together with Sydney?”
“That’s because you don’t know the things Syd’s capable of. Let’s just say, nobody understands what I need the way she does.” He smirks. “What? I meant emotionally. Like being listened to.”
Jake laughs, ready to contribute his astute insights on the subject, but as we step outside, I tune him out.
The door swings shut behind us.
Up ahead, Lindsey leans against a wall, kicking at the gravel with her foot. Now that she has a boyfriend, she only talks to me when she needs a favor.
“Can you give me a lift home?” she asks in a small voice. Her eyes are red rimmed. She keeps her lips tight all the way to the parking lot, gets in the car, and fastens her seat belt without a word.
“Are you going to tell me what happened?”
Her chest rises and falls a few times. “You have to promise not to say anything to Mom and Dad.”
A car honks outside, and my grip tightens on the wheel. “Please tell me you’re not pregnant.” Okay, maybe that was dramatic, but—
“No, it’s worse.” She lets out a sharp sigh. “He dumped me.”
“Oh.”
“Because I wouldn’t do what he wanted.”
I do not require specifics to grasp the situation. The way they behaved together—it was inevitable that he would eventually push for more. I should’ve said something sooner. But Lindsey isn’t a kid anymore, and I figured she’d tell me if something was wrong.
Guess I was wrong about that too.
Before I can launch into how she dodged a bullet, Lindsey’s face crumples. “Now he’s telling everyone we did it and I was terrible at it. I’m not even sure how a girl can be bad at sex!”
As usual, her tears freeze my brain on the spot. This is how she got the bigger bedroom, by the way.
But beneath the sibling reflex to make light of it, something darker coils inside me.
For some reason Flora comes to mind. Sitting on her bed, twisting her fingers as she told me about Zach Powell and how he broadcasted the whole thing like it was his to tell.
Seems like you just can’t win—whether you say yes or no, someone can still take your story and make you feel disposable.
“That’s awful. I’m sorry.”
“We had so many plans. My birthday, everything. He won’t be celebrating with me now. I feel so betrayed.”
“Have you tried talking to him?” Right. Because that worked out so well for me with Flora.
“He denied saying anything. There’s nothing I can do.” She sniffles, turning her head to the window. “You know how rumors are. I can’t prove he started it.”
He’ll get away with it. But he’s not my concern, not really. I only care what happens to her.
“Are you sure you don’t want Mom and Dad to know?” They created her, after all. They shouldn’t be allowed to sit out a crisis.
“No! I already know what they’ll say. They’ll tell me to focus on school. Like you.” She finds the energy to roll her eyes at me.
A long pause stretches between us. If only I could turn into Flora for five minutes. She’d find some effortless, borderline-miraculous way to cheer Lindsey up. A couple of students ride by on bicycles, and Lindsey straightens in her seat. She turns on the radio, and we listen in silence.
She pulls her lips into a reluctant smile. “Hey, you know I’m only telling you this so you can beat him up, right?”
“Yup. Just tell me where. Face or gut?”
She rolls her eyes, but her grin lingers. “Yeah, right. Forget it. I’m fine.”
Lindsey handling this with composure somehow makes it even more unbearable.
The only thing worse than a bratty Lindsey is a nonbratty version.
It’s like losing my little sister in real time.
I grit my teeth at the way she shrinks into the passenger seat and tries to pretend this doesn’t hurt as much as it clearly does.
“Seriously, what can I do for you?”
She wipes her nose. “Nothing. I want to forget about it and move on.”
“I’m here if you need me,” I say, the words sounding foreign in my mouth.
“Uh-huh. Thanks.”
“Do you want a hug?”
She stiffens, then she opens her arms and hugs me. We almost never do this. She pulls away after approximately 2.8 seconds, grimacing. “Ew. Bad idea.”
“Agreed. Let’s never do that again.”
She laughs and taps on the steering wheel. “Come on. Let’s go home.”
* * *
The next day at lunch, Flora calls out to me in the cafeteria. Lindsey is sitting with them, shoulders slumped. She hasn’t sat with Flora’s group for a while, but maybe today’s special circumstances.
“We heard what happened. Unacceptable,” Josie says as she crumples a juice carton and drops it onto the table.
Madison says, “We’re brainstorming ways to get even.”
“No, they are,” Carmen corrects. “I’m against this whole revenge thing.”
Lindsey lowers her head. “Me too. I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”
“Grow a spine.” Madison gives Lindsey’s shoulder a firm pat. “How’s a girl supposed to move on unless she has the perfect revenge plan underway?”
“How about leaving it to karma?” Carmen suggests.
Madison scoffs. “Karma is what people say when they’re too lazy to be petty. Strong people take matters into their own hands. Now, Lindsey, we start a rumor too.”
“Something so stupid, so bizarre, that it outlives us all,” Flora says. “How about he’s been secretly feeding a Sasquatch in his backyard? They’re best friends.”
Lindsey snorts.
“We’re trying to ruin his life,” Josie says, “not make him seem enchanting.”
Flora’s eyes sparkle in that way that excites and scares me. “Forget the rumor—let’s pull a prank. If we put our heads together, we can make his life very annoying.”
Lindsey turns to me, mouthing No.
“Come on, you don’t have to stoop to his level,” I say. “The best revenge’s moving on and living well.”
Madison says, “You sound seventy instead of seventeen. Toss whatever self-help book you’re reading.”
Flora leans in, both hands on the table.
“We call his parents and say he’s been stealing cafeteria meat loaf.
Get them to set up a meeting with the principal.
Or—I read about something like this on Reddit—we post a Craigslist ad saying he’s giving away free alpacas.
Imagine people calling him day and night, demanding alpacas. ”
Lindsey laughs—because alpacas. They have that effect on people. Then she drops her head into her palms. “Can we please drop this?”
“Write a song about him!” Flora claps Josie on the shoulder. “Something like, ‘Beckstabbing Liar,’ or ‘What the Beck Was I Thinking?’”
“Again, not trying to make him enchanting. Dude, do it the old-fashioned way and punch him. Or at least threaten him. Or ask your guard dog Dylan to do it—he’ll throw hands for you, no questions asked.” At this point, Josie’s just here for the chaos.
“Violence works like a charm every time,” Madison seconds.
“I’m not going to hit a freshman,” I say.
Flora shakes her head at me like I’ve personally let her down. “Chivalry is dead. You won’t even defend your own sister?”
I don’t answer. I could, technically, shove the kid against a locker and tell him to keep his mouth shut, but what would that change?
Lindsey doesn’t need revenge. She needs perspective.
One failed relationship doesn’t define her.
High school can scar you, but it can also give you something real—friendships, memories, the kind of moments that stay with you long after you leave.
Besides, if we really wanted to annihilate him, it wouldn’t be hard.
Between Flora’s friends and mine, between our social reach and whatever I can dig up online, we could make his life a lot worse than a few alpaca calls.
But no one’s said that, not once. Maybe because we all know the goal isn’t to kick him down. It’s to lift her up.
If only I could find a way.