Flawless (20 page)

I shrug. “We all have different talents.”

“If that's true,” she whispers, “what are mine?”

My eyes are glued to hers. In all the years we've known each other, I've never heard her talk like this.

“You are about a million times more talented than I ever thought about being,” I tell her.

She shakes her head emphatically. “I dare you to name just one real talent. Something you can say I'm really good at.”

I hold up my index finger. “First of all, you're a social genius. You know exactly how to make everyone feel comfortable at a party.”

“That's a personality trait. What can I
do
that's special?” she asks, pleading me with her eyes to come up with something. Anything.

“You always know exactly what to wear and when. If it wasn't for you, I'd have spent the last four years in jeans, faded T-shirts, and flip-flops.”

“Anyone can learn how to dress from watching
What Not to Wear
and reading a fashion magazine.”

“You've got mad math skills, Kris. I've never seen anyone calculate equations in their head the way you do. I've got to be honest. It's a little bizarre.” I end with a little chuckle to let her know I'm teasing.

She cocks her head to the side, studying me, then breaking into a small grin. “Well, it's not writing, but I guess it's something.”

I nod, unsure of what to say next, not sure I should say anything at all. All I know is, for the first time since I met Kristen Gallagher ten years ago, I realize she's as insecure as I am.

Two weeks ago, I would have laughed if you'd called either one of us insecure. As sure as I'm sitting here, watching my best friend grapple with self-doubt, I know it's true.

Underneath our bravado, we're the same.

Beauty is the pilot of the young soul.

—RALPH WALDO EMERSON

Chapter Nineteen

By the time Monday morning rolls around, I've thoroughly obsessed over Kristen's pending breakup with Rock. I only know she plans to break it off “when it feels right,” which, in Kristen's world, could be today. Or June.

I don't have a clue what to expect when I enter journalism for third period that morning. Is he going to be heartbroken if Kristen's already broken it off with him? Is he going to act all weird about the conversation he and I had outside Kristen's house? The whole thing has my gut in knots. But there's no way I'm skipping. I've been busting my butt on an article that's due today and has a shot at being put in the school paper. You can never have too many published articles to make your college applications shine.

I stride into class just as the bell rings and take a deep breath to prepare myself for what I might find. But, like always, Kristen and Rock are in their usual seats, chatting and smiling. The only thing different about today is they aren't glued to each other like two ticks. I take my seat in the next aisle with a questioning look to Kristen.

“Hi, Sarah,” Rock says, full smile telling me what I need to know. She hasn't broken up with him. Yet. There's a part of me that wants to warn him because I don't want to see him get hurt. But I would never do that to Kristen. Being Kristen's bestie is not for the weak.

I smile back at Rock and give a stupid little wave. Like there's some huge distance separating us and he can't hear me speak. Geez. But I'm so grateful that he isn't acting all weirded out from Friday that I totally let myself off the hook.

“Do anything special this weekend? Make it to Salado with your mom?” he asks.

I pause a beat before answering, momentarily lost. “Mom got called to work.” I'm getting entirely too good at lying. I hold up the paper I've written. “So I just wrote.”

“Write, write, write,” Kristen says sadly, shaking her head. “I swear, that's all you do.”

I give her a pointed look to let her know she's not being funny. I mean, she's totally pulling my chain because she knows I'd kill her for telling Rock I'd written all those messages. But still. It's enough to get on my very last frazzled nerve.

“All work and no play,” Rock teases.

“Very funny,” I snap back, maybe a little more fiercely than I'd intended.

“You should have joined us for the poetry reading,” he tells me. “You would have loved it. There was a guy there who did the most amazing Lord Byron reading.”

“Oh yeah,” Kristen agrees halfheartedly. “Amazing.”

Rock playfully shoves her. “This one's a regular comedian. She had the one-liners coming all night.”

I can't stop myself from chuckling, knowing the one-liners he's referring to. I give the girl props for even trying. Talk about being out of your element.

“Yeah, you never know what she's going to say,” I agree.

One look at Kristen and I know she's done.

Done with the charade of being something she's not, and done with Rock.

I spend my lunch period scarfing some seriously stale peanut-butter crackers and chasing down the school counselor. I desperately need him to write a letter of recommendation to accompany my scholarship application. If I get the station scholarship Jen told me about, I can at least say Mom and I got one good thing out of her.

It's not until I'm crawling into bed at ten thirty that I hear from Kristen. When my cell phone rings, this time playing the oldie “Brick House,” I know it's her.

“I did it,” she breathes into the phone.

“Rock?” I ask, clarifying before I let my emotions run rampant.

“Yep,” she says, typically stoic. She's always like this after a breakup, like it was inevitable that every single relationship has to end.

“What'd you say? How'd he take it?” I ask in a rush.

“Um, I told him the truth.” Her words are so matter-of-fact I nearly come through the phone to strangle her.

“You
told
him?”

“Chill, Sarah. I didn't tell him
that
. I just said we didn't have that much in common.”

“What'd he say?” I ask quietly, barely recognizing the tightness in my voice. I try to focus on our conversation, try to ignore the obnoxious thudding in my chest that she'd totally hear if she was in the room with me. But it's impossible to concentrate. All I can think about is Rock.

“He took it pretty well, actually. It was weird, you know? Kind of like he expected it.”

“He didn't ask a bunch of questions?” I ask, stunned he didn't put up a heroic fight to keep her. And if I'm honest, I'm just the tiniest bit happy he didn't. Okay, I'm a lot happy he didn't.

“No, not really. I explained to him that I'd had help writing the e-mails and Facebook messages. But I didn't say who,” she says quickly.

But I can't relax because everything's changed. Even though I hated Kristen dating Rock, at least then I knew what to expect. I knew exactly where I stood. I was comfortable, in a constant, heartbroken kind of way. Now everything is different. I'm not even sure he'll still be friends with me now that he and Kristen have broken up. It suddenly dawns on me that because Kristen's broken up with Rock, I kind of have, too. Now I'll only see him in class.

Unless I'm willing to do something about it.

Unless I'm brave enough to tell him exactly how I feel.

“So I'm back to riding to school with you. I'll drive this week, okay?” she says, breaking my reverie.

“Sure,” I mumble. “Don't be late.”

When Kristen picks me up ten minutes late, I'm too tired to muster any real indignation. After hanging up with her last night, I tossed and turned for hours. I'm not sure how much sleep I actually got, but it wasn't nearly enough.

“Oh, man. Are you getting sick?” she asks, looking way too put together for someone who just broke up with her boyfriend. I've probably lost more sleep over this than she has.

I attempt to hold back a yawn. “No, I'm not getting sick. Couldn't sleep last night.”

In the blink of an eye, Kristen launches into a long-winded story about the last time she couldn't sleep and all the different things she'd tried.

“Do you know what finally worked?” she asks, a rhetorical question if there ever was one, which is a good thing, since I'm only half listening to her rambling.

Without waiting for my reply, she answers. “Warm milk! Sounds totally gross, I know, and way too
Little House on the Prairie
or something but it worked like a charm.”

She pulls into a parking space that appears to be a country mile from the school's entrance. “Could we be any farther from the door?” she complains.

I stop myself from telling her this is the kind of parking spot you get when you're late.

We part ways after getting our tardy slips from the office. When I stumble into trig, I have to face an irritated Mr. Marshall.

But it hardly even hits my radar because I'm 100 percent focused on what I'm going to do—or not do—about Rock.

It seems like an eternity, but I finally make it to journalism. I'm surprised to find Rock sitting in his usual seat in front of Kristen. The two of them are talking like normal and I instantly relax. I don't know what I was expecting, but Kristen's breakups usually come with some fireworks or, at the very least, desperate pleas from the jilted boyfriend for her to give him another shot. More than once, I've been responsible for relaying those desperate requests to Kristen.

“There she is,” Rock says, like he's been waiting for me all day. As if.

“Am I late?” I ask, eyebrow raised in that cocky way my mother loathes.

Rock looks at Kristen, who's way too happy for my liking, and then back at me. “You don't know?” he asks.

I shrug, playing dumb and hoping he doesn't want to talk about his breakup with my best friend. “Know what?”

Kristen can't help herself and rudely interrupts Rock before he can get another word out.

“You know your article? The one you turned in yesterday? Mrs. Freel is entering it into some sort of statewide contest.”

“What?” I practically scream. “When? How do you know?”

Rock smiles. “They said it on this morning's announcements.”

I glare at Kristen. “Which we missed because we were late.”

“Sorry,” she says, hands in the air like we're in some lame bank robbery and the villain's told her to “Stick 'em up!”

“But I thought the assignment was for the newspaper,” I say.

“It was,” Mrs. Freel says, surprising me when she pops into my peripheral vision. She walks closer, a warm smile on her face. “But I fell in love with your paper, Sarah. I hope you don't mind that I entered your paper without discussing it with you first. We have until tonight at five o'clock to withdraw your entry if that's what you choose. But I really think you've got a shot, and there's a two-thousand-dollar scholarship for the winner.”

I blink my eyes quickly, flattered and utterly shocked. “Don't apologize. I'm happy you entered it. Thank you,” I tell her, beaming like a fool.

“Excellent,” she says with a proud smile. “I was hoping you'd say that.”

“Tell me about your paper,” Rock says as Mrs. Freel walks away to close the door and begin class.

“It was an essay on loyalty. The difference between our loyalties to our family, our friends, our school, our country, and what I think is important.” I sit back in my seat. “Wow.”

“Very cool, Sarah,” he says, giving me an encouraging smile and that killer wink.

“I don't know why you're so surprised,” Kristen says. “You could write a novel about paint drying and make it sound intriguing and unforgettable. Look what you did for me.”

My cloud of elation evaporates when Rock narrows his eyes in question. Judging from the look on Kristen's face, she knows she's blown it. And instead of covering up her mistake like she normally does, she sits frozen, eyes wide.

“You?” Rock asks.

“I tutor Kristen,” I lie, eyeballing Kristen and willing her to back me up.

“She's tried her best to help me with my writing, but I'm hopeless. She still keeps trying, though. Won't take no for an answer.” Kristen stops her rambling when I clear my throat.

I nod at her explanation, hoping Rock buys the absurd lie. “Stubborn to a fault.”

He looks at Kristen, then back at me as he swings his legs back under his desk and faces the front of the classroom.

Call it instinct, woman's intuition, or sixth sense, but I can practically see the cogs in Rock's brain spinning.