“Look, if you’re that worried, I can teach you how to play.”
My eyes widened. “Wait, really?”
“Sure. Why not?”
“Pull this off, and I’ll start calling you Prince Charming instead of Abercrombie.”
“You pull this off and I’ll start calling you gamer girl instead of Princess.”
“So…” I trailed off. “Tonight, then? You’ll teach me?”
“Yeah. Come over at around seven?”
“Text me your address.”
I pushed myself off the ground, dusting off my pants.
We said our goodbyes before going our separate ways.
I was lucky enough to squeeze in one book and three short articles about COD, which apparently stood forCall of Duty, before the peaceful respite I longed for was cut short as I packed away my journal along with a few colorful pens, preparing to head out the door.
It was kind of nice having plans that didn’t involve Meredith or Kendra. As soon as their names crossed my mind, I instinctively frowned. Two Polaroid pictures taped to the side of the vanity captured my attention, halting me dead in my tracks. In one photo, Meredith and I were huddling together with rehearsed smiles after our first Homecoming game in ninth grade.
The other photo was of Jessie and me sitting in front of a large Christmas tree, my leather-bound journal in hand as we both beamed at the camera. I could still hear Jessie’s words as I unwrapped her gift.
'I know that school has been rough, and you don’t want to talk about it, but maybe writing your thoughts down will help.'
For a minute, I contemplated how I had gone from one life to the other. I stared at my reflection, wondering which version of myself I would be tonight. Sometimes it was hard to know who I was at all anymore. Being popular was a blessing, but it was also a curse. Never being allowed to make a mistake. Always being watched. Never being able to be myself.
An airy laugh slipped past my lips.
Meredith would kill me for even thinking something soungrateful.
I guess that’s why I had been distancing myself from her and Kendra. For the most part, I had been quiet in their company, refusing to make any conversation outside of cheer practice, but I could tell they were starting to get suspicious. Maybe it was for the best for me to pull away. After all, once someone shows you who they really are, it’s important to believe them, no matter how desperately you want to believe anything else.
I barreled down the stairs and scurried out of the house, my nerves propelling me forward as I got into my car.
The journey to Elliot’s house was short in terms of minutes, but my mind made it feel a whole lot longer.
As I pulled up to the address he had sent me, my lips tugged downward. It was a small house, battered and falling apart on the outside, with bags of trash littering the front yard. Shriveled bushes with dying roses adorning the green and brown leaves lined the entrance to the door. The house was pitch black, leaving only the moonlight to illuminate its existence.Did he give me the wrong address?
Just as I was about to text him, a single porch light flicked on, and Elliot pushed open a screen door. I switched off the engine, stepping out as Elliot waved me over to him. The inside of the house was much cozier than the outside. A warm hue blanketed the living room as we walked inside, the scent of cinnamon wafting through the air. Elliot scratched the back ofhis neck as he kept his head low. I trailed his steps as he gave a brief tour. And bytour, I mean he showed me the living room and the bathroom, then pointed toward the kitchen. A vintage buttercream wallpaper with tiny flowers decorating the empty spaces covered the entire home, or at least what I could see of it. There was a wooden ceiling fan in the center of the room with two couches and one ottoman surrounding a sturdy television. I pushed the front of my left shoe against the back of my right heel, about to kick off my sneakers, when my eyes connected with Elliot’s feet. His shoes were still on.
I continued scanning and noticed most of the carpet had been stained and then partially covered by an antique-looking brown rug. When I lifted my head, a collection of family pictures caught my eye. I stepped closer, tracing the frame with my hand. It was Elliot as a child dressed in a dinosaur costume and a young girl clutching a frilly wand with wings poking out from behind her.A fairy. I smiled warmly.
Elliot sucked in a breath; his hands clenched tightly by his side. “So, this is it.”
“Cool.”
And I meant it. His house felt…real. It felt lived in, like a real house should be. Not just decorated for the eyes of others. His stance was rigid as he shifted from one leg to the other. I offered a smile as I plopped down on the sofa. He let out a shaky breath, his shoulder relaxing as he grabbed two controllers from underneath the TV. Clicking a button on the remote, the screen came to life.
“So, where’s your mom? Should I introduce myself?”
“No. She’s working.”
“Oh. Will she be back soon?”
“Nope,” he answered while tapping away at random buttons.
