It’s only by separating them that I can hold on to A, and everything that happened before we got to this restaurant. But even still—we’ve done some damage. A hasn’t hurt me…but she’s allowed me to hurt myself. Which is almost the same thing.
When we get back to my car, she tells me again that she’s sorry. I see why Justin gets sick of it when I say it so much.
After a while, she gives up. She realizes I need her to be quiet.
Finally, we get to her house.
“I had a great time,” she says. “Until.”
“Yeah,” I say. “Until.”
“He’ll be fine. I’m sure he just thinks I’m this crazy California girl. Don’t worry about it.”
Pointless. What a pointless thing to say.
“I’ll talk to you,” she tells me.
If we’d come here straight from the woods, I wonder what would be happening now. Whether I’d kiss her even though she’s Ashley. Whether we’d feel invincible.
“I’ll talk to you,” I echo. Even though I have no idea what we’ll have to say.
I can’t worry about A now.
I have to get Justin back.
Chapter Fourteen
I don’t wait until I get home. I drive away from Ashley’s house, turn a few corners, then pull over by the side of the road and call him.
He hasn’t texted me back, and I’m worried he won’t pick up. But he does.
“What’s up?” he says. I can hear the TV loud in the background.
“I’m really sorry about that,” I say.
“Not your fault. I have no idea where you picked up that black bitch, but let me tell you, she is not your friend. At all.”
“I know. It was stupid of me to invite you along. I should’ve just dealt with her.”
“She was out of control. Completely out of control.”
“I guess looking like that can do that to you.”
“It’s no excuse. Seriously. What a bitch.”
It wasn’t really her, I want to say. You didn’t meet her at all.
“I’ll see you in the morning,” Justin says. This is his way of saying we’re not going to talk about this anymore.
“See you in the morning,” I tell him. “And sorry again.”
“Stop. It’s fine.”
No, it isn’t.
I wonder if maybe it isn’t only Ashley’s life that has been hijacked. Maybe mine has been hijacked, too. Maybe I need to focus on the real things, not the fantasy things. Even if A is real, A will never be constant. Justin is my constant.
I’m worried that Justin will be pissed at me for what happened, but mostly he’s pissed at Ashley. When we bump into our friends in the hall before homeroom, he can’t wait to tell everyone what happened.
“Rhiannon has this total slut friend from California who totally made the moves on me last night—with Rhiannon right there! It was wild. She was totally hot, and she could not keep her hands off me. Finally I was like, ‘Hey, what do you think you’re doing?’ And Rhiannon came right in and told her to get the hell off. I swear to you, it was out of control.”
“Dude!” Steve says.
“Yeah. That’s what I’m saying.”
I know this is how guys talk. I know that the point of the story is that he chose me. But it still feels like he’s bragging. It still feels like the point was that this hot, slutty girl wanted to sleep with him.
I’m not going to say anything—I’m just going to let the story be over. But Rebecca picks it up and won’t let it go.
“What exactly is it that makes her a slut?” she asks. “What if she was just flirty?”
“Oh, give it a rest, Rebecca,” Justin spits out. “You weren’t there. You didn’t see this black bitch in action—it was priceless.”
“Now she’s a ‘black bitch’? Really, Justin?” Even though I don’t want her to look at me at all, she turns my way. “Can you tell the rest of us what really happened?”
“He’s right,” I say. “She was out of control.”
Now Rebecca’s not just angry at Justin; she’s disappointed in me.
“Cute, Rhiannon. Real cute.”
Justin tries to level her with a look. “Rebecca, you weren’t there. And I can call someone a black bitch if she was black and acted like a bitch. That’s just a fact.”
“Bullshit! Her being black has nothing to do with your story, you asshole. And I’ll bet if she were telling her side of the story, she wouldn’t be a bitch, either.”
“So it’s okay all of a sudden to call me an asshole?”
“One, I’ve been calling you an asshole for years. And two, please note that I’m not calling you a white asshole—because even though I’m sure your whiteness adds to your sense of entitlement, I’m willing to let it slide so we can focus on the fact that you’re a universal asshole right now.”
“Okay,” I interrupt. “You’ve made your point. Enough.”
“Yeah, man,” Justin says to Ben. “Turn your girlfriend off, okay?”
I know he’s saying this to make Rebecca extra mad.
“She’s right,” Ben says. “You’re being an asshole.”
I feel bad because now Justin is feeling attacked, and even though his choice of words is wrong, the story he’s telling isn’t a lie. Ashley did come on to him. And even though she did it with my permission, he doesn’t know that. He thinks one of my friends tried to steal him from me—and that is being a bitch. A universal bitch.
“If you don’t change the subject right now, I am going to unleash the biggest fart this school has ever seen,” Steve tells us. “You have been warned.”
Rebecca pulls back and lets it look like she’s dropping the conversation. But from the way she looks at me, I know she’s filing it away for later.
In art class, she launches right into me.
“Why do you let him talk like that? How can you just sit there and let him shit all over everyone?”
“Rebecca, you have to understand—”
“No. Don’t defend him. I don’t know who this California friend of yours is, but maybe she’s the one you should be defending. Because if you think of her as some slutty black bitch, then you’re not all that great a friend to have.”