I rubbed my palms together, my legs bouncing reflexively as my body tried to generate some semblance of heat.
The weather seemed to imitate my own emotions—dull and solemn.
“Yeah, you should’ve.”
“I just—she can be very…intimidating.”
“I know.”
“The whole cupcake thing was super fucked up. I should’ve been there. Maybe I could’ve stopped her or—”
My face twisted as I narrowed my eyes at her, pushing my heels down onto the cold cement. A curt laugh escaped my lips. “You really think you would’ve left her shadow just to pretend to give a fuck about me?”
“Yes.”
“Sure.” I clicked my tongue, throwing myself back in the chair. “Where was this same energy three months ago, then?”
“Stuck inside a stupid girl who didn’t have the guts to use her voice.”
Her gaze dropped little by little until she was staring at the floor. The crack in her voice alone proved her sincerity. Maybe I’d been aiming my anger at the wrong person. After all, she was here, trying to make things right—something Meredith would never do. A slow breath left me as I pressed my eyes shut, guilt washing over me.
“Stop,” I muttered while rubbing my temples. “You’re not stupid.”
“But I was acting like it!” she exclaimed, her expression shifting from anger to regret. “I got to where I am by learning how to keep my mouth shut, and I know it comes off as me not giving a shit, but I was just trying to ditch the whole angry, loud, ghetto black girl stereotype. Best way to do that is to not have an opinion about anything. So, I didn’t defend you,” She dragged her fingers through her braids, exhaling sharply. “And I’m so fucking sorry.”
“Okay, one: that stereotype is bullshit. Two: you deserve to be angry if you feel like being angry. And three: fuck anyone who disagrees with one and two.”
A soft laugh bubbled from her throat, trembling on the edge of a sob. Her fingers curled around the black fabric on her wrist, twisting it absently. “Seriously, if I could go back and—”
“You can’t, Kendra. You can never go back. What’s done is done,” I said in a clipped voice, my fingers tightening into a fist.
The past is written in stone.
My mind sloshed with things I wish I could change and people I wish I could see, but there was no going back. Flaring my nostrils, I slowly inhaled, trying to ease my thoughts back inside the jail they previously occupied. “What changed?”
“Being Meredith’s friend is feeling more like a chore these days. Nothing was the same after you left and honestly, she’s pissing me off more and more every day. Like who announces their running for Prom Queen, the day their best friend wins Homecoming Queen?” Her brows pinched together as she dropped her hands roughly onto her lap. A slight scowl took hold of her lips. “She should just run for ‘Petty Queen.’ I’m sure she’d win that.”
I released a puff of air that had been caught in my throat. My back loosened as I slouched back in my chair. It was a good joke—a true one too, but I couldn’t bring myself to smile.
“She’d win for sure.”
“Seriously, though,” she begged, desperation threading throughout her voice. “I’msosorry, Clarke. What can I do to make it up to you? What can I do to get my friend back?”
“I don’t know.”
“Do you want me to fight her? I’ll fight her.”
“No, you can’t fi—”
“Grovel?”
“No.”
“Say sorry every day for the rest of our lives?”
“Ken—”
“What if…what if I jump into the pool…?”
