Chapter 4 #2
Now that I’m not talking to Briggs, I don’t know what’s going on.
I’m guessing the guys got another text, and I think it had something to do with why Briggs was having lunch with Oliver today.
There’s no way Briggs would do that unless he was forced to, which means the text told him to.
But Finn and Parker didn’t do it. They sat with each other at their usual table.
The person texting isn’t going to like that Finn and Parker aren’t doing what they’re told.
What if today was their last chance, and when they didn’t do what he said, the texter decided to send the video to the cops?
I want to call Briggs and ask him what’s going on, but I can’t.
I thought he’d keep me updated, despite us no longer being friends, but I haven’t heard a word from him since we met behind the bleachers, other than when we’re forced to talk during lab.
On the way to Charlotte’s house, I notice my chest tightening up and feel knots forming in my stomach.
I shouldn’t be nervous to talk to my best friend, but I am because I’m afraid she’ll tell me to go away.
We’ve never had a fight like this, and I’m worried it might end our friendship for good, or maybe it’s already ended.
She hasn’t spoken to me since the day she found me with Briggs.
Every day, I call her, text her, try to talk to her in the hall, or sit with her at lunch, and all I get in response is her ignoring me or walking away.
I don’t know why now would be any different.
I’m sure I’ll ring the bell, she’ll check the cameras and see it’s me, and not answer the door.
I’m feeling sick as I walk up to her house.
If by some miracle she actually opens the door, I don’t know what I’ll say to her.
I should’ve thought about that before coming over here.
I’ve already tried to explain to her how I ended up with Briggs, but she wouldn’t listen, so I’m not sure what else to say.
I ring the doorbell and wait, trying to calm my nerves by focusing on all the flowers lining the front porch. Charlotte’s mom hired a gardener who found her all these rare flower varieties to put in pots on the porch as well as in the gardens out back.
“Ella, what a nice surprise.”
My eyes dart back to the door, and I see Charlotte’s mom standing there, wearing a black dress and pearls, her dark hair pulled up in a sleek bun.
“Hi, Mrs. Birch. Are you going somewhere?”
“Yes. We have a function to attend tonight. I assume you’re here to see Charlotte?”
“I am, but I didn’t know she had something going on. I can stop by some other time.”
“Charlotte’s not going. She’s up in her room. Come inside. I’ll tell her you’re here.”
Her mom’s acting like Charlotte and I are still friends. Charlotte must not have told her what’s going on.
I go inside the massive house. It’s as big as Briggs’ house but feels more like a home with warm colors on the walls, rugs covering the tile floor, and framed photos everywhere.
“I’ll just wait here,” I say, standing in the living room.
“Why don’t you come upstairs with me?” she says, motioning me to follow her.
“I think you might want to tell her I’m here before I go up there.”
She walks back to me, setting her hand on my shoulder. “I know you two had some kind of disagreement, but you just need to talk it out. Charlotte can be stubborn when she’s been hurt, but she’ll come around.”
“I’m not sure that she will. She won’t even talk to me at school.”
“Really?” Her mom frowns. “That doesn’t sound like Charlotte. What exactly happened between you two?”
“I’d rather not say.”
She nods. “I understand. Come upstairs. Let’s get this worked out. It’s gone on long enough.”
“Mrs. Birch, I really think you should talk to her first. She’s not going to—”
“Ella, please. Just come upstairs.”
We go upstairs, stopping just outside Charlotte’s room.
Charlotte’s mom knocks on the door. “Charlotte, there’s someone here to see you.”
“I’m busy,” she yells back.
Her mom opens the door. “You’re not too busy for your best friend.”
“Ella’s here? Mom, I told you not to—”
“Charlotte, I don’t want to hear it,” her mom says, going into her room. “This has gone on long enough. You’re going to talk this out with her and figure out a way to be friends again.”
I didn’t think her mom would take my side like this. For all the years I’ve been friends with Charlotte, I wasn’t even sure her mom liked me. She’s never been very friendly to me when I’ve come over to see Charlotte, but maybe that’s just her personality. She always seems really serious.
“Ella?” I hear Charlotte’s mom say.
“Yeah?” I say from the hall.
“Get in here.”
I walk in Charlotte’s room. She’s on her bed with headphones around her neck.
“Hi, Charlotte,” I say.
She glances at me, then looks away.
“Charlotte!” her mother scolds. “Be polite.”
“Hello, Ella,” she says, not looking at me.
Her mother sighs. “Charlotte Annabelle Birch, if you do not stop this stubborn behavior and talk to your friend, you will not be going out with that boy this weekend.”
Charlotte gasps. “Mom, you can’t do that! He already got the concert tickets!”
“Then he’ll have to take someone else.” She puts her hands on her hips. “What’s it going to be?”
Charlotte finally looks at me. “You want to sit down?”
I glance at her mom, then back at Charlotte. “Sure.”
There’s a small, pink sofa on the side of her room. I go over to it and sit down.
“I need to get going,” her mom says, heading to the door. “Have a good night!”
She shuts the door behind her.
Charlotte takes her headphones off and gets up from her bed, going over to the mirror and letting down her hair. “I got it cut.” She shakes her hair out. “You like it?”
“Yeah.” I get up and walk over to her as she looks in the mirror. Her hair looks the same, but at least it’s something to talk about, something that won’t cause a fight. I don’t want to fight with her, but I feel like anything I say will make her angry.
“I’m thinking of getting highlights,” she says, “so it’s not so dark.”
“You should do it,” I tell her. “If you don’t like it, you can always change it back.”
“I guess.” She stares at herself in the mirror. “But what if it doesn’t work? What if I try to change it back to the original color and it isn’t the same? Sometimes you can’t undo stuff, you know?”
I get the feeling we’re no longer talking about hair color.
“Is that what this is about?” I ask. “You think we can’t go back to how things were because of what happened?”
She turns to me. “I trusted you, Ella. I confided in you. And you lied to me. How can we go back to being friends after that?”
“Charlotte, I’m sorry. I’ll say it a million times if I have to, but it’s not going to make a difference if you’ve already decided we can’t be friends.” I pause. “Will you even consider being friends with me again, or is your mind made up?”