None of the Above (19 page)

It was the first time I'd seen Vee in a month. The gut-punching sense of betrayal wasn't shocking, nor was the sense of loss. We'd been friends for eighteen years; of course part of me missed her still.

The anger, though, surprised me.

I am not a vengeful person. But one look at Vee, with her perky, queen-of-the-world head tilt and her careless, self-absorbed smirk, and it was all I could do to prevent myself from slamming on the gas and turning her into a very unattractive hood ornament.

Instead, I jerked into a parking space and turned the engine off. As the cold seeped into my car, I thought over my options. Much as I wanted to, I wasn't going to run her over. But I wasn't going to let myself drive away like a powerless victim, either.

I wanted answers.

How could she live with herself after ruining my life? Without even apologizing? Did she feel
anything
? I wanted her to see me. If I could make her feel a speck of guilt, disrupt her happiness for just a fraction of a second, it might be enough. I wasn't going to make a scene. If I knew that she felt sorry for what she did, for the friendship that she'd flushed down the drain, I'd be able to let go.

My hands shook as I unlocked the door. Stepping out, the soles of my boots skidded on a patch of ice, but I righted myself. Took a deep breath. And walked up to face my former BFF.

Faith saw me first. “Oh! Hi, Krissy!” she said too brightly, glancing at Vee. She always did turn to other people for cues about how to behave.

“Hi,” I said, following Faith's gaze to look at Vee, who had taken a sudden interest in her cell phone. When I didn't move on, Vee put her cell phone away and made a show of raising her eyebrows as if just noticing me.

“Hey.” She nodded coolly. “Long time no see.”

If I had wanted to see remorse, I wasn't going to get it. I felt like a fool. Had I really expected her to beg for my forgiveness?

“Um, excuse me?” a blue-haired girl behind Vee said. “No cutting. We've been waiting forever to get in.”

“Nothing to worry about,” Vee drawled. “She's not with us.”

She spoke the truth, but it still hurt. Faith tried to intercede.
“Come on, Vee, why don't you just talk? You guys are better than this.”

“Better than what?” Vee snapped. “
She's
the one who called me a jealous bitch and then ignored me for a fucking month.”

“
You
were the one who told my boyfriend that I was a hermaphrodite!” The words came out before I remembered where we were. A couple of Blue-Haired Girl's friends giggled nervously, and I could feel their eyes on me. I wanted to shrink from their scrutiny, but there was no going back now. “Like I could forget about that? Ever?”

“I told you,” Vee said with gritted teeth. “I didn't tell your precious Sam-I-am.”

“Oh, please. No one else knew!”

“Not true,” she said. Her eyes darted toward my other best friend, who was staring down at her sparkly gold high heels. “Why don't you ask Faith how Sam found out?”

The world spun, then contracted. Around us I sensed people shuffling forward in line. When it was clear we were going nowhere, Blue-Haired Girl stepped around us. I barely noticed, my eyes fixed on Faith, whose face wore the guilt that I'd hoped to see on Vee's.

She was still looking at her shoes.

“Faith, is she telling the truth?” I asked shakily. I didn't know why I asked, though. I already knew the answer.

“Krissy,” she said so quietly I could barely hear. “When I found out, I called Sam to see how he was doing.” Her voice
trembled. “I didn't realize that he didn't know.”

I closed my eyes. Opened them again. Faith had finally looked up from her feet, and I recognized the expression she'd worn around me so many times since my diagnosis. Now, at last, I realized it was guilt.

“Why didn't you tell me?” I asked. My voice sounded childish, bewildered.

“I was going to try to make it right. And I did try to tell you once, but I didn't want you to be mad at me. . . .” Her upper lip trembled and she started to cry.

“Oh, Faith.” I put my hand to my forehead, suddenly disoriented by the backlash from my misplaced anger. “Please stop crying.”

“Are you going to hate me forever?”

I let out a long, slow breath and watched it billow in the cold night air. “Of course not. You know it's impossible for anyone to stay mad at you.”

It was true, had always been true, but my saying it only made her sob louder.

“Jesus fucking Christ.” Vee sighed. “Come on. Both of you.” She put one arm around Faith to guide her and gestured at me to follow. When we got to her car, she put me in the driver's seat and made Faith take shotgun. Then she planted herself in the middle of the backseat and watched us: Faith sitting hunched up, still weeping quietly. Me staring out of the window, unable to look at either of them.

“All right, get on with it, guys,” Vee said after a minute of silence.

“Get on with what?” I asked, finally looking at her.

She closed her eyes, and grimaced. “Faith, stop crying and tell Krissy you're sorry. Krissy, stop moping and tell Faith you forgive her. And while you're at it, would you get on with your life already?”

“What are you talking about?”

“I'm talking about you
getting over yourself
. It's been weeks since you've been at school. The other day my mom and I ran into your aunt Carla at ShopRite, and she was going on and on about how concerned she was about you. Krissy, it's time to
move on
.”

Even as I cringed at the thought of Aunt Carla accosting the Richardsons, I was furious. “Oh, that's right! My boyfriend dumps me, the whole school thinks I'm a man, and I'll move on, just like that! To think that all I needed to solve my problems was the great Vanessa Richardson telling me to snap out of it.”

Then Faith spoke up, her voice stuffy and pathetic. “She's right, you know.”

I stared. “Why are you taking
her
side?”

“There's no side taking here,” Faith said. “I'm the one who screwed up, remember? Anyway, I'm really worried about you. You've become, like, a hermit or something.”

The windows were starting to fog up, and I traced a circle
on the cold, wet glass. Suddenly, the car felt suffocating. I could feel both Vee and Faith staring at me. I was so sick and tired of people telling me what I should do with my life: My dad. Ms. Diaz. Dr. LaForte. And now the Dynamic Duo.

“You guys don't understand,” I said stubbornly. “The whispers. The looks.”

“Listen to us, Krissy,” Vee said. “How long have we been friends?”

“Eighteen years, if you include playdates before we could talk,” sniffed Faith.

“Right. So we've known you for almost two decades. What would your—” She cut herself off, as if aware that she was going too far.

The air in the car grew heavy. I felt a familiar ache blossom in my chest as the muffled sounds outside receded into the distance. I stared at Vee, who looked down at her hands.

“Go on,” I told her. “I know what you wanted to say. What would my mother think if she saw me like this?”

That's when I lost it. I've never been a pretty crier, not like Faith. I was ugly cry all the way: bloodshot eyes, red nose, snot everywhere. Because what would my mother think? That I was a quitter? That I was weak? Would she just shake her head at the mess that I had become?

“Come on, Krissy,” Vee said roughly, handing me a tissue. “I don't think I have enough Kleenex for you and Faith both.”

I sob-laughed. “I'll just have to use my sleeve, then.”

“Um, gross,” Vee said.

“Be nice, Vee,” Faith said. She dabbed at her eyes and reached out to me. “I'm so sorry, Krissy. How can you ever forgive me?”

What a question. In all the years I had known Faith, I couldn't remember a time when I'd been truly angry at her. Whatever things she did to irritate me, her intentions were always true. I slid into her hug and closed my eyes. “Of course I forgive you, Faith.”

I was too tired to hate. And too guilty.

In the backseat, Vee's phone rang, but she silenced it. A moment later, it vibrated at the same time Faith's phone dinged.

“I hate to break up the lovefest,” Vee said after checking the message, “but the others are inside Bliss, wondering where we are. We should go soon.” She turned to me and paused just a second before adding, “You should come.”

My heart wanted to, but my mind said no. I shook my head. “Thanks, but I'm going to go home. It's not that I'm running away,” I added quickly. “I just need some time to pull myself together. I mean, look at me, right?” I gestured toward my post-sob face.

“Okay.” Vee gave me a searching look. She got out of the backseat and opened the door to let me out.

As I slid out of the car, I grabbed hold of Vee's coat. “Wait,” I said quietly. “I'm sorry I accused you of telling Sam.”

Vee shrugged. Started to say something, but stopped. I
could have been the wind, but I thought I saw tears in her eyes, too. “Apology accepted.”

We walked back toward my car huddled together to shield ourselves from the cold, and I thought about my new reality. It would take a while to sink in. Then again, all good changes did.

As I fumbled around in my purse for my car keys, I noticed my cell phone blinking. There was a text from Jessica that must've come through while I was in the bathroom at home.

Got UR message. We're catching the 8:10 show at Sangertown. CU there.

It was like a time capsule from the past. I almost didn't remember that I had called Jessica out of loneliness. I hadn't known, then, that I was partly to blame for my isolation. Now that I had let the weight of my self-pity go, I felt strangely adrift.

On my way home, I passed by the Sangertown Square Mall. I glanced at the clock—it was almost ten—and found myself turning in to the mall, and heading toward the movie theaters in the back lot.

Maybe Vee had been right. It was time to move on.

When I got to the theater, the movie was letting out in ten
minutes. So I sat in the lobby next to a giant cardboard cutout of a cartoon monkey, trying not to look too stalkerish.

As people poured from the theater, I saw Jessica first, arguing with her boyfriend, Quincy, also a debater. A couple of other Honors kids trailed after them, and then Darren came out with Becky. They were holding hands, cute as ever, and I was struck once again by how petite Becky was. I felt like an Amazon next to her.

Darren did a double take after he saw me, and the two of them parted.

“Hey,” Jessica said as the group gathered in front of me. “We missed you.”

“Sorry, I didn't get your text until just now. But you guys were going out afterward, right?”

“That's the plan. Meet you at Carmella's?”

At the restaurant, the seven of us squeezed into a booth. Jessica and Quincy sat on one side with Jorge, who I knew from AP English class. Becky slid into the opposite side after her friend Miranda, and Darren and I followed. I took the outside seat.

It'd been weeks since I'd been out with a group, and I couldn't believe how
loud
they were. Everyone talked over each other, angling for laughs and groans instead of saying things that actually mattered. Mostly, I listened. I was the seventh wheel, the one who disturbed the balance of the table.

I was aware of Darren's every move next to me. When he
talked, I could actually feel the vibration of his baritone. When his sleeve brushed my arm as he reached for his Diet Dr Pepper, it sent a little quiver down my spine.

Jessica was going off about the Bond girl. “Next time, they should just use an inflatable vagina, instead of bothering an actual actress with the part. Those roles are so fucking degrading.”

“What, you didn't think that one scene when she jabbed the guy in the eye with a nail file was an example of a strong woman?” Darren quipped.

“Sadly, yes. That was her best moment. At least she saved her own ass.”

I excused myself to go to the bathroom. In the stall I slumped on the toilet, breathing in the silence, letting it restore me so I could go back out again. Maybe I should've stayed at the club. It would've been noisy, but it would've been
moving
noisy. I tried to close my eyes and visualize myself laughing with the others. Real laughs that bubbled up from the belly, not forced ones that felt pumped out.

When I came back our nachos had arrived and were already half destroyed. “You okay?” Darren asked me.

“I'm fine,” I said, so it would be true. I touched my nose, wondering if it was still red. “Is there something wrong with my face?”

“No,” he said hastily. “You just looked worried, that's all.”

“Way to stress a girl out, Darren,” said Becky, giving him a
little shove. “Haven't I taught you
anything
?”

“Shit. I knew I should've taken notes.” He gave me a panicked look and stage-whispered, “Don't tell anyone, but I think I'm gonna fail Boyfriend 101. My teacher's a total hard-ass.”

Becky punched him. A giggle bubbled up from my belly, despite myself.

Jessica and Darren's friends were easy to hang out with. Maybe it was because they were from different grades, but they hardly mentioned any other people from our school except in passing. Mostly they talked about movies, and music. They talked about Jessica's play, and where they were thinking of going to college.

Becky frowned when Darren mentioned Columbia. “Cornell's an awesome school, too,” she reminded him. “And it's so much closer.”

After the nachos had been reduced to a puddle of scraped-over cheese, we sat for over an hour, until our waitress pointedly brought our check. I trailed the others out of the restaurant, and saw Darren say something to Becky before dropping back to talk to me.

“Mind if I hitch a ride home with you?” he asked. “I rode with Quincy, but you're a lot closer.”

“Sure, I guess.” I gave a fleeting thought to what Becky would think of him riding home with me. Though I wasn't exactly competition.

The passenger seat was still pushed way back from the last
time we'd carpooled to the health clinic, and Darren slid in.

“It was fun hanging out with you guys,” I said as we pulled out of the parking lot.

“Well, it was cool to have you there,” Darren said, his voice strangely stiff. I looked over at him. Where had the ease of our carpool and running conversations gone? It was like he was suddenly treating me like someone he'd just met.

I didn't want to be someone he'd just met. “Was it really? I only ask because I know I haven't been good company lately.”

I paused, weighing my next words, wondering if I really wanted to go there. I decided that I did. “Someone told me tonight that I needed to get over myself, that I've been so caught up in my . . . my diagnosis that I've basically been a shitty friend. And paranoid too,” I added. “I can't forget the paranoid part.”

“Did you tell them to go screw themselves?”

I smiled. “No. Because I think they're right.”

“Well, I wouldn't go that far,” Darren said after a bit. “It takes a lot of hard work to be truly, top-notch paranoid, and I'm afraid you don't quite make the cut. Sorry.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I have to say you're kind of an also-ran in the shitty friend department, actually.”

“I don't know about that.” I sighed, and flexed my grip on the steering wheel. “I basically accused my best friend of telling the whole school that I was a hermaphrodite. I wasn't
wrong. But I was blaming the wrong best friend.”

“Oh. Crap.”

“So, shitty friend.”

“Okay, so maybe you're in the ballpark. What did you do when you found out you were wrong?”

“I apologized.”

He made a game-show buzzer sound. “Sorry, you're out of the running again.”

“But I was a jerk. Do you know how much it sucks to be the jerk?”

“That's kind of personal, isn't it?”

I groaned, even as part of me warmed at the banter. “It was a rhetorical question.”

Darren stretched in his seat, and ran his hand through his hair. “Rhetorical or no, the answer is yes. When my father first came out, I was a total asshole.”

“Weren't you, like, ten?”

“That doesn't excuse me. Nor does the fact that he ran off with a guy who'd been my student teacher in fourth grade, leaving my practically suicidal mother in sole custody of me and my hormonally challenged older sister.”

“God. That must've been awful.”

“Yeah, my life pretty much blew. Anyway, I blamed it all on my dad. Not on my mom, who, it turned out, actually knew that my father was gay. Or at least bi.

“The thing I hated the most was that he had played the
straight guy for so many years. Couldn't he have just kept his dick in his pants, or at least waited until I'd gotten through the hardest years of my life before taking off? Don't answer that question. I know it wasn't the most mature thing to think. But like you said, I was ten. So I threw tantrums whenever I had to go to his house. I deleted his emails without reading them. In other words, yes, I know what it's like to be the jerk, and to have to deal with the suck when you realize that you've been in the wrong.”

“Oh, Darren.” I tried to imagine how a ten-year-old could've handled the betrayal and guilt. “What helped?”

“Several thousand dollars of therapy.”

“Well, I'm working on that, at least.”

“Time. Chocolate. And more therapy. But you know what? All those sessions with a shrink really only taught me one thing: To not be too hard on myself. Or my dad.”

When we pulled into Darren's driveway, the light in his kitchen was still on. “Your mom's up late.”

“Yeah, she's got a big event tomorrow, and she said she'd be up late experimenting with different éclair fillings.”

“Oh my God, your mom's éclairs,” I said wistfully. “Worth killing for.”

“You aren't kidding,” Darren said as he opened the door to get out. “Come on in. She's always up for some taste testers.”

“I can't,” I protested. “It's too late. What would your mom
think?” More importantly, what would Becky think?

“Bull. Shit. My mom loves you. Come on, I don't want to be held responsible if you resort to justifiable homicide to get one of those éclairs tomorrow.”

Darren walked around to open my door, so how could I refuse?