“…I’m so glad we had a chance to start fresh. The entire cheer team would like to apologize. I know you’re moving away, but we wanted to straighten things out before you do. You know, not to leave things awkward,” Via explains to Daria, who looks like a ghost. About five pounds lighter than when the school year started, her eyes dead. She is still gorgeous, put together, and looks like a model, but her heart’s not in it anymore. Into flaunting her beauty like she earned it, somehow. I recognize Via’s lilt of fakeness. It’s the one she often used when she was still her old self.
I race across the parking lot, determined to protect Daria from whatever my sister has in store for her.
Praying I’m not too late.
The minute I step into the snake pit, I chuckle at my own stupid mistake.
This is not a last-ditch effort to try to make me stay. It’s not even a peace offering. I came here because Via begged me to stop the fight between Gus and Penn.
“Penn’s future is on the line. If you truly love him like you say you do, you’ll come and tell him not to fight Gus.”
It’s a trap. I should have known the minute Via knocked on my bedroom door. She seemed too hysterical. Too nervous. But her reasons for seeking a ceasefire were too logical to overlook. Teary-eyed, she explained that she was tired of the hateful looks her brother gave her. I truly thought she wanted to cover her ass and get my blessing before I move away.
I forgot one important thing—Via cares more about ruining me than saving herself.
It’s entrenched in her DNA and has been for years now. She already knows what it feels like to lose everything because it happened to her when she was fourteen. Because of me. She’ll never be the prima ballerina she could have been. She knows that, too. Too much time without proper training has passed. My mother can hole her up in the ballet studio fifteen hours a day, but youth shapes art, and she’s been artless for so long, her craft has wilted.
Her dream is an empty shell. The pearl that’s supposed to be inside is nowhere to be found. That’s why she keeps ripping into what’s mine. She knows we both lost, but I have the means to still live a comfortable life. She’s screwed. Maybe forever.
My eyes swallow the scene unfolding in front of me. The world moves in slow motion as hundreds—no, thousands—of flyers rain down on the dead field. They volley on the bleachers and brown, muddy ground and are speared to the chain-linked fence and handed over between people who are whispering and laughing. The cheer team stands on the top row of the bleachers, and all the cheerleaders are throwing them around with Esme laughing so loud, I swear they can hear her in Japan. One of the pages sticks to my shin as dozens of its friends fly past me, and I bend down and pick it up. The paper was printed so hurriedly, there are smidges of ink from people touching it before it had time to dry.
Entry #842:
Sin: Opened a fake dating profile on a website I knew Miss Linde was a member of and had virtual sex with her. Screenshotted everything and sent it to her ex-boyfriend.
Reason: She gave me two Cs just because she is jealous of Principal Prichard and me but too scared to rat us out.
Entry #843:
Sin: Ordered Esme full-fat lattes from Starbucks every Thursday for an entire semester when it was my turn to do the coffee round before practice in hopes she’ll gain weight.
Reason: Bitch always fat-shames everyone.
Entry #844:
Sin: Frenched Colin Stimatzky and let him cop a feel.
Reason: Wanted to get rid of my obsessive thoughts about Penn Scully AKA hole-in-a-shirt boy (UGH IT’S BEEN THREE YEARS, BITCH, GET OVER THE LOSER).
I’m on the verge of puking when I notice Penn darting around the place, plucking the papers from people’s hands with murder in his eyes. Every person in his way immediately drops their paper, but the damage has already been done. Everyone is standing in the center of the field or sitting on a bleacher and reading about my sordid deeds. People point, joke about me, and whisper about me. I am officially the laughing stock of the county, and nothing will change that. Ever.
I turn around, about to run away, when Via catches my wrist and tugs me back. She pretends to hug me, but I can feel her smile on the shell of my ear when she talks.
“It was a bad play on your part to ask your family not to tell anyone that you’re leaving. Totally drove me to tell Gus we needed to kick our plan into high gear. Now we’re even, Daria. Now, when I take everything away from you like you did from me, I can move on with my life. Now, you’ve finally tasted what it feels like to be thoroughly ruined.”
I squirm away, digging my feet into the ground and trying to escape, when Penn’s hand—warm and big—grasps my other wrist. Via releases me immediately.
I want to kick him away and yell at him for preventing me from escaping, but I’m defenseless against his touch. I break down on his chest, and his arms wrap around me, shielding me from the rest of the world. The tears are falling, and his chest rumbles, telling me that he is breaking, too. And somehow, at this moment, it’s enough. The world is against us—everyone knows about every single awful thing I ever did—and still…
Penn turns around to his sister, still holding me in his arms. “You can run, but you can’t fucking hide, Sylvia. And when I catch you—and I will catch you—you will regret the day I was born, five minutes before you, because I’m going to make ruining your life a full-time job, and I’ll be putting in some extra hours, too.”