CHAPTER EIGHT

I had Jake take me home. Much as I liked being with him, I knew I’d spend the entire evening alternating between trying to figure out how I was going to tell Ella and thinking up horrible things I could do to Trent. Neither one would be productive.

Or I’d be worrying and wondering what Jake’s comment about needing forgiveness meant. And to be honest? I wanted to live in Denial Land and pretend like that hadn’t just happened.

So I focused my attention on my sister and her drama, which was much more immediate. It would be better to just go home and rip the Band-Aid off. Because if I waited, she could find out in some other way. Bronte could put something up on social media. Or somebody in the restaurant might have filmed the fight, and with my luck, the thing had already gone viral.

Jake dropped me off with a quick kiss, and I slogged my way back into the house. Even though I knew it was a necessary evil, my stomach knotted up as I imagined Ella’s reaction. Every step I took brought me closer to hurting my sister.

My dad sat on the couch with Jennifer, watching a movie. “Hey, sweetie. You’re home early,” he said, glancing at his watch.

“Yep.”

“Do you want to join us?” Jennifer asked, and part of me was tempted to accept. If for no other reason than to delay the inevitable.

“Not tonight.”

Dad paused the movie. “What’s with the Incredible Sulk routine? Is everything okay? Did your mother do something?”

I almost wanted to laugh. My mother probably had done something that I just didn’t know about yet. But she wasn’t the reason for my moodiness. “No.”

“Did Jake do something?” he asked, a deadly look in his eyes.

Not at the moment. But if I said that, I might not be the only Lowe family member out punching people tonight. “It’s not Jake. Everything is . . . fine-ish. Don’t worry about it.” I pointed with my thumb over my shoulder. “I’m just going to go to bed.”

My father’s jaw twitched back and forth. It was his poker tell. One that he was usually better at concealing and meant that he was really worried. “We’re here if you need to talk to us.”

“I know. Good night.”

I considering getting ready for bed first, but it was time to face the music. Whatever that meant.

When I stood outside of Ella’s door, I heard the unmistakable sounds of her sobbing. I didn’t bother with knocking and hurried inside.

She sat in the middle of her pink comforter, her whole body shaking as she cried and cried. My heart leaped in my throat. Someone had beaten me to the punch.

Or had told her about the punch.

“How do you already know?” I made sure to close the door behind me. I didn’t need Dad and Jennifer to overhear us. “Did somebody tell you?”

She took in several deep breaths and looked up at me, confused. Tears clung to her eyelashes until she wiped them away. “What?”

“Why are you crying?” I sat down across from her, the mattress sinking under my weight.

“Li-Liam Fiorelli,” she hiccupped.

Was that the guy who had told her? “I don’t know who that is.”

Ella threw her hands out to her side, letting out a sound of frustration. “I talk about him all the time, Tilly. Liam Fiorelli. Lead singer of the Beat? They’re my favorite group. He and the band were just in a serious accident, and they don’t know if he’s going to make it. The drummer already died.”

She started crying again, and I scooted closer so that I could put my arm around her. If she was this brokenhearted about a band being in an accident, what was she going to do when I told her about her lying, cheating scumbag of a boyfriend? Maybe I should wait. We had the whole weekend in front of us, and I could let her get over this tragedy before I gave her another one.

“Why are you in here alone? Why didn’t you go talk to Jennifer and Dad?”

“I don’t know,” she said, sniffing. “Maybe because it feels like such a stupid thing to be this upset about. I’ve had a crush on Liam Fiorelli since I was thirteen, but I don’t know him. I shouldn’t be crying.”

It wasn’t that strange. Ella had always been very sensitive and emotional.

She reached for some tissues and blew her nose. I patted her awkwardly. Physically comforting someone wasn’t really my strong suit.

“What’s with the face?” she asked, tossing the Kleenex over the side of her bed.

“It can wait.”

Ella studied me with her red-rimmed eyes. “I’m already devastated. Whatever bad news you’re carrying around, you should tell me now. You couldn’t possibly make things worse.”

I didn’t want to accept her challenge. But she deserved to know. And better to hear it from me than somebody malicious like Mercedes, who would try to hurt her as much as possible.

“Jake and I went out to eat tonight. And at the restaurant, I saw Trent. With a girl.” I held my breath for a second. “A girl he was kissing.”

My sister blinked at me several times, as if she hadn’t understood what I’d just said. “Trent . . . was kissing another girl? Who?”

“That stupid Bronte who graduated last year. I don’t know why. You are so much prettier than she is.”

“So . . . I don’t have a boyfriend anymore?” Ella asked, and I got her confusion. “This means we’re done, right?”

“I don’t know many other ways to so completely kill a relationship. Cheating means you need to drop him like fifth-period Spanish.”

“Wait,” she said, grabbing more tissues. “You dropped fifth-period Spanish?”

That’s what she was focusing on? “So not the point right now!”

She nodded, and I noticed that her crying had turned into little more than sniffles and nose blowing.

How could I make this better? “I feel like I should tell you time heals all fishes in the sea or something like that. Or that thing you said to me about my mom. Something about chapters and footnotes and how people suck?”

That got me a small laugh, which I considered progress. “That wasn’t quite what I said, but yeah, people leave. I know that better than anyone.”

Her biological dad had taken off before she was even born, and her mom had died a few years ago from breast cancer. Ella was more acquainted with loss than anybody our age should be.

“Right. And Trent’s just a sucky footnote. That should probably just be deleted all together. He doesn’t even deserve footnote status.”

“Maybe. This all feels like the end of the world, but I guess if you consider the big picture . . .” Ella’s voice trailed off.

“Not such a big deal?”

She leaned her head to one side, as if considering. “Nope. Still feels a little like the end of the world. And I’m so smad right now!” It was our word for when we felt both sad and mad at the same time. Which I got, because I’d been feeling that emotion for most of the evening.

“If it will make you feel any better, I punched him in the face.”

“You what?” she gasped.

I showed her my still swollen knuckles. “No one gets to cheat on my sister.”

Then, to my surprise, she started to giggle, which was about the last thing I expected, and it made me happy. I didn’t want her to keep crying. Trent didn’t deserve her tears. So I would make the ultimate sacrifice. “Do you know what we need?”

“Lots of ice cream?”

“Definitely. But I was thinking more along the lines of some expensive retail therapy.”

Ella looked over at her window. “But all the stores are about to close.”

I got up and grabbed her pink, bejeweled laptop from her desk and sat back down on her bed. “Yes. But do you know what’s not closed? The internet.” I handed her the computer, and she opened it. I saw that her web browser was already at her favorite store.

We sat against her headboard, and Ella rested her head against mine while clicking through pages of shoes.

“Are you going to be okay?” I asked.

I could feel her nod. “Yeah. So far it only hurts when I breathe.”

After we bought out the entire inventory of Ella’s online store and ate our body weight in Ben & Jerry’s, I slept in Ella’s bed, not wanting to leave her alone.

Part of me expected that Trent would step up. That he’d come to the house and explain himself to my sister. Maybe even figure out a way to make it all up to her.

It didn’t happen.

Jake texted me, asking if Ella was okay. I told him she was hanging in there. He sent me a frowny face in response.

But, again, no nightly phone call from him.

The next day Ella acted more like herself. Not quite as perky and cheerful, but some shade of it.

“You seem better,” I commented.

“That much sugar will cure just about anything,” she said with a faint smile. “What are your plans for today?”

“I have Kenyetta’s birthday party with Jake, and then after that I’m free. We can spend the rest of the weekend eating more ice cream, buying as many shoes as you want, and talking about how much Trent needs to be smacked again.”

Just then my phone rang. Jake.

“Speak of the hot boyfriend . . .” I muttered as I answered my cell. “Hey!”

“Hey, Tills. I hate to do this, but I’m not going to be able to make Kenyetta’s party today. Something came up.”

“Something came up?” I repeated. “Like what?” I knew how much Kenyetta had been looking forward to Jake coming.

“Oh. I, uh, have something else to do. With my mom. Shopping. We’re going shopping.”

I happened to know for a fact that Jake hadn’t gone shopping with his mom since he was thirteen years old. She was the one who told me the story about how he had demanded that she drop him off and let him choose his own clothes.

Even though I couldn’t see him or his tells, I knew he was lying.

I just didn’t understand why. “Kenyetta’s going to be really disappointed.” So was I.

“Tell her I’ll make it up to her.” Then, as if he’d been able to hear my unspoken thought, he added, “And to you.”

We said goodbye and hung up.

“Jake’s not coming?” Ella asked.

I nodded. “He said he was going shopping with his mom. Which has to be a lie.”

“Don’t jump to any conclusions.”

I didn’t tell her that Jake had given me the same advice the night before, and my conclusion jumping had been correct.

Lately it was like I had been forced onto some relationship roller coaster where I was either really high up, on top of the world, and so in love with my boyfriend, or plummeting down to my doom and the end of everything. Before the last few days, Jake and I had always been on an even keel, and I knew exactly where I stood with him. Things were normal. This . . . felt like an ulcer waiting to happen.

“It’s not like this is the first time he’s canceled at the last minute,” I told her, trying not to frown.

“Hey,” Ella said, breaking up my downward spiral. “What if I come with you?”

“Really? That would be great.”

“To be honest, I don’t want to stay here all afternoon and think about Trent and Bronte. It would be nice to get out of the house and have a distraction.”

Personally, I’d still be a blubbering mess if Jake had cheated on me. Ella seemed to be handling it really well.

Or she was just in deep denial.

I could respect either choice.

A couple of hours later, we were on our way to Kenyetta’s house, along with the presents I’d chosen for her. They were all ballerina themed—from a ballet slippers nightlight to a silver charm bracelet with tiny dancers in tutus.

I volunteered to drive. It wasn’t that given Ella’s current state I didn’t trust her to drive . . . but given her current state I totally didn’t trust her to drive.

She used my phone to log on to her Instagram account, and she was scrolling through her feed. “Oh no. Demarco just asked London to prom by giving her a kitten. His sign says, ‘I’ve got a feline you’d be the purr-fect date! Prom?’”

The last thing Ella should be doing was looking at promposals. Especially since she wasn’t getting one now. But why would Demarco’s ask make her say, “Oh no”?

“What’s wrong with that?”

“London’s mom is super allergic to cats. We had a cheer sleepover at Portia’s house a few months ago, and she has two longhair cats. Anyway, London’s mom had to be taken to a doctor when London got home. It’s why we had to institute a ‘sleepovers in pet-free homes only’ rule.”

“That’s going to be a fun conversation,” I said. “Good thing Demarco knows her so well and would give her such an appropriate gift.” I wanted to poke fun so that Ella wouldn’t get more depressed. I didn’t handle a depressed Ella very well. That was supposed to be my role in our relationship because I was the moody one.

“OMG! Topher Larson got the word prom tattooed on his shoulder for his promposal!”

“Are you sure it’s not fake?” I asked, totally stunned.

“He’s got a video of him going into the tattoo parlor and getting it done.” She held my phone up for me to see, but since I was being the responsible driver, I couldn’t look. Didn’t want to look, actually.

Okay, I was all about a good promposal. But this was taking things way too far. “It’s like six hours of a single night. And he doesn’t know how things are going to go with Brie at prom. What if she breaks up . . .” I let my voice trail off, realizing too late what I’d almost said.

“Breaks up with him?” Ella finished. “It’s okay, Tilly. You can say it. I’m not made of glass. I won’t shatter if you bring Trent up.”

We pulled into Kenyetta’s semicircle brick driveway. She lived in a huge Mediterranean-style ranch home with a pink terra-cotta roof. Like somebody had picked it up out of the middle of Tuscany and dropped it into Malibu.

She must have been waiting for us, because as soon as I got out of the car, she came running over and threw her arms around me.

“Mattie! I’m so glad you’re here!” she said, and her normally dazzling smile seemed even brighter. She wore a pale pink sundress that popped against her darker skin tone.

“Me too!”

She pulled away and looked around. “Where’s Jake? I told everyone he was coming and how fine he is. They think I photoshopped the picture I have of him on my phone.”

Some part of me briefly wondered if I should be worried that she had a picture of him on her phone, but I focused on the bad news I had to deliver. “He had something come up. He’s not going to be able to make it,” I said apologetically. Her big brown eyes were so forlorn it broke my heart.

“Oh. Okay.”

“But I brought my sister Ella instead. I think you two will get along really well.”

Ella came over and introduced herself, but Kenyetta was unenthusiastic.

“Come say hi to my dad.” She paused, as if she didn’t want to add on the next part. “And Bahati.”

Oh, interesting. The infamous Bahati, huh? Kenyetta had talked about her for the last few months. Bahati was her dad’s new girlfriend, and from what I had gathered, Kenyetta was not a fan. I was looking forward to finally meeting her and finding out whether she was as bad as Kenyetta kept telling me.

We followed behind her, weaving in between the parked luxury cars. I hated that Jake had canceled, leaving me to deal with Kenyetta’s disappointment alone. For the millionth time, I wondered what was going on with him. I worried it wasn’t good.

Sometimes I would get a tickle at the back of my throat. It was like an early warning system that I was about to get really sick.

Right now I had a tickle at the back of my soul that made me think bad things were about to happen with my boyfriend.

I didn’t have time to think about him, though. I needed to cheer up my sister and console a twelve-year-old because her crush hadn’t shown up.

That wouldn’t be too hard to manage, right?