This Is All Your Fault, Cassie Parker Read online

  “It’s too bad Evie couldn’t come,” I say. Which is true. Evie was going to be my insurance in case things went poorly with Tyrick again, but she’s at a play her parents bought tickets for way before school got out.

  “Yeah,” Aja says, shrugging, “but you know how Evie’s parents are about boys.”

  I don’t know. “About boys?”

  “That she can’t hang out with them,” Aja says simply, before letting out a quiet squeak at the sight of River and Tyrick getting out of a car at the curb. I’m still confused, but River lifts a hand in hello to us both, so I wave back with Aja. Tyrick stuffs his hands in his pockets and looks off to the side, hiding what looks like an embarrassed smile.

  “Hey,” they say to us, just like at the mall.

  “Hey.” Aja curls her fingers in a little wave to River.

  “Did you have a good trip?” Tyrick asks her.

  Aja immediately starts telling stories about Seattle, her cousins, the shows she saw, and the cool shopping she did while she was there. Her stories are good, and I’m glad to hear full details about what she was up to, but the whole time she doesn’t ask any of us what we’ve done, which means there’s no chance for me or Tyrick to talk to each other. The dread feeling I had about this outing creeps up again, and I almost consider another fake stomachache. We each pay for our tickets, but Aja keeps steamrolling the conversation right into the Girls Rock camp she’s started this week. Tyrick ends up paying for her Sno-Caps, because she’s so distracted showing River the calluses on her fingers from playing guitar.

  “That was nice of you,” I tell him as we walk into the theater. If we’re going to say anything to each other, this has to be the time.

  He shrugs, embarrassed. I try to keep in mind what Mom said about his being shy, instead of thinking he doesn’t want to talk to me. “So what have you been up to so far this summer?”

  “Eh. Basketball. Reading some.” He looks at River to listen to what he’s saying back to Aja.

  It’s frustrating, and almost makes me believe he somehow does know about the Pencil thing, even though up to now I felt sure no one had figured it out. Still, I have no explanation for why he’s acting like this, and no desire anymore to try and turn it around.

  When the lights begin to dim and the commercials start, I’m more relieved than disappointed.

  Broken Pencil

  Every day my eyes followed you,

  watched you from afar,

  wanting to know the depths

  of all your secrets.

  Your golden eyes

  your rich voice

  were portals, I was sure,

  to complex caverns

  inside you that I wanted to know.

  Now, close up,

  I can see

  Your eyes are only eyes.

  Your voice only a voice,

  without anything interesting to carry it.

  Before, you were a puzzle

  I so badly wanted to solve,

  and now the only puzzle

  is wondering

  whether it was really you I liked

  or if I just liked liking you instead.

  I’m out of practice writing poems, and the lines at the end are particularly clunky even if they’re more honest. I’m sitting at my desk after the movies, trying to think of how to fix it, when a message from Evie comes in.

  So sorry I couldn’t go today. The play was good though! I think I want to be an actress now. Or a director. I can’t decide. Anyway, how was it?

  I send a mix of emojis that mean I don’t know.

  ????

  I don’t know if I’ll go again.

  Why not?

  I glance back at my poem. Mom’s words about giving new friends a chance are still in my mind, and Evie’s been nothing but sweet so far. Maybe she’s the one I can lean on.

  I think I just liked him better before.

  Did you talk to Aja about it? she writes back.

  I snort. While I’m glad that she and River are hitting it off so well, and Aja’s confidence really is inspiring (instead of annoying like Kendra’s), I don’t know how to tell Evie that I’m starting to believe the only reason Aja wanted me there was to make it a group thing so she’d be allowed to see River.

  But maybe Evie would understand better than I think, especially if what Aja said about her not being allowed to hang out with boys is true.

  While my thumbs are hovering over the keys, trying to formulate my exact question, WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU DON’T LIKE TYRICK ANYMORE? comes in from Aja.

  I didn’t say that, I text back, startled.

  EVIE SAYS YOU DON’T KNOW WHETHER YOU LIKE HIM OR NOT.

  For a moment I’m not sure what I’m reading. Evie already told Aja?

  She misunderstood, I finally send.

  WELL??? comes back from her.

  I feel cornered. We just don’t talk much.

  IS THAT ALL HIS FAULT?

  It’s way too harsh of her to say, especially when she’s the one who hogs all the conversation.

  It’s SOMEbody’s, I slam back.

  Hope that means you know it’s you.

  It’s infuriating. Aja’s straightforwardness has been so appealing in the past, but this is taking it too far. I thought you were supposed to be my friend.

  Friends say things straight, she answers.

  If this is how Aja really is, I don’t care what Mom says. I’m not giving her any more chances. Maybe I don’t want you to say anything to me for a little while.

  But there is still one thing I want to know right this minute from Evie, so I switch over to our chat. Why did you tell Aja? I challenge her.

  She gives good advice. I wanted to help you feel better.

  Well you only made things worse, I send hotly back. She should have known Aja would overreact, since the two of them are best friends.

  I’m staring at the screen waiting for either of them to respond when a message from Tyrick appears: Aja says you don’t want to hang anymore I guess. Sorry about that. Have a nice summer.

  It makes me so mad I throw my phone, hard, onto the carpet. I never should have trusted two girls I barely know, even if they both seemed so great at the beginning. I should’ve learned from Cassie that no matter how close you are, a friend can turn on you at any moment.

  Chapter Twelve

  To avoid any reminder of Aja, Evie, Tyrick, or the fact that now I have no friends at all, I keep my phone in the nightstand drawer, and keep away from any tablets or laptops. Which means there’s nothing much to do the next day except stay out of the way while Leelu and Maritza spend the entire afternoon doing laundry and packing her up for Disneyland tomorrow. I’m trying to watch TV, since I read most of the morning, but it’s nearly impossible with my sister doing Ariel and Olaf impersonations—loudly, and obnoxiously, on purpose, from the other room—no matter how many times I holler at her to quit.

  “Leelu, I can’t hear what’s on!” I scream at her from the couch for the six-thousandth time.

  “What?” she singsongs from our room.

  “You heard what I said.”

  She comes out to the living room to look at me.

  “What?” I say again when she stays bug-eyed and silent.

  Her face twists into a prissy sneer. “You’re just jealous.”

  She hasn’t been this mean to me in a long time. I’m shocked, but I guess now that she has a twinkly new partner in Jennifer, she doesn’t need to be nice to me anymore.

  “Nope, I can’t wait for you to leave.”

  “Girls, girls,” Maritza says, bringing in another basket of laundry from the garage.

  “Enough of this snitting. Leelu, did you finish sorting all your shoes or not? We cannot make choices until you know where all of them are. Hurry, hurry. Your mama will be home soon and there is dinner yet and washing your hair.”

  I hear Leelu saying her hair doesn’t need washing since Dad took her to the parlor to have it rebraided this week, but Maritza app
arently doesn’t agree. I’m not four minutes back into my show before she starts up again, this time a genie song from Aladdin.

  Which does it. I stomp down the hall, still holding the remote.

  “Not everything is about Disney all the time, okay?” I holler at her. “You’re going to be there in twenty-four hours, so can you bottle it up and—”

  I stop midsentence, shocked. Our room is a disaster. Even though Leelu and Maritza have been packing for what feels like hours, nothing has actually made it into a suitcase. The floor is spread out with every single shoe Leelu owns, and my desk is crowded with her activity books, art supplies, and all the other things that will go into her backpack. Both of our beds are still covered with outfits, with her matching stuff from Jennifer right on top—of, what I realize, are the Mickey sweat shorts and Monsters, Inc. shirt I got signed by some Pixar animators last time we went.

  I snatch my stuff off her bed, not caring that her eye mask from Jennifer falls to the mess on the floor. “When were you going to ask if you could take these, huh? You don’t have my permission.”

  She crosses her arms. “Well, you’re not going to wear them.”

  “They’re my things!”

  A whine crawls into her voice. “You wouldn’t even know I had them if you hadn’t come back here.”

  “I wouldn’t have had to come back here if it weren’t for your stupid singing!”

  “Girls, enough,” Maritza scolds us both. “Leelu, give those back. Shame on you, sneaking. I don’t like it when you lie to me, and you’re not supposed to take things from your sister without asking.”

  The alarm at the front door beeps. “Hello?” Mom calls.

  Immediately Leelu bursts into tears and goes running to her. Maritza makes a frustrated noise and tosses her hands up, before Mom appears in the doorway with Leelu pressing her wet face into her hip. I feel bad about making Leelu cry, but she didn’t have to rub it in my face that she doesn’t care about me anymore by going and stealing my stuff.

  “Leelu, what is this?” Mom says with frustration.

  “She’s a liar and a thief,” I tell Mom.

  “Am not!” Leelu shouts.

  “She took my things without asking and told Maritza they were hers.”

  “Did not!”

  “Did so!”

  “Did NOT!” Leelu screams.

  “Fiona, upstairs to my room immediately. You’re not budging until we talk. Leelu, you need to get this mess cleaned up this minute and get your suitcase packed. I’ll talk to Maritza, and when I come back in here I better see some real progress.”

  “But Mom—” we both say at the same time.

  She raises a finger, nostrils flaring wide. “I’m not repeating myself. Please do as I ask.”

  I grab my diary, my pen, and my latest library book off the table between our beds, making a big show of how difficult it is to step over all of Leelu’s stuff. Mom says my name in a low warning, but it’s Leelu who’s wrong, not me. I stomp up the stairs, pleased with the loud smacks my feet make on the tile, shutting out the sound of Leelu’s wailing. I had actually started to feel sad about missing this vacation with her and Dad, but now I can’t wait for him to get her out of my sight.

  Mom says sleeping on something always makes it better, but she’s wrong because in the morning there’s Dad picking Leelu up, with Jennifer sitting in the front seat. I want to hug Leelu close, and beg her not to love Jennifer more than me, but she just skips past without a care, pulling her My Little Pony suitcase behind her like it’s magically turned into a real prancing horse. It doesn’t matter if I apologize; she’s not even in the car yet and my fears have already come true.

  Dad hugs me and asks again if I’m sure I won’t change my mind, but I can barely hug him back. No way am I going now, no matter how conflicted I feel about it.

  As they drive away, Mom and I stand in our little yard and wave, but I don’t keep my hand up very long.

  “Sweetheart, I’m sorry, but I’ve got to get moving,” Mom says, checking her phone.

  “But it’s Saturday. And Maritza’s not here yet.”

  “You know this is my busy season, darling, and she’s not coming, remember? Since you were both supposed to leave today, she’s getting ready for her own trip.”

  I’d forgotten. “But what am I supposed to do?”

  “Well, let’s see. How about: Read. Watch movies. Dance. Write. Draw. Clean. Dust. Take a bath. Start a project. Research someone interesting in history. Organize your photos into files. . . .”

  She’s making fun of me. “No one’s going to be here, though.”

  “Fiona, you’re twelve years old. You have a cell phone, and you know Mrs. Carroll right next door, plus the Tandigens in the building across the parking lot. There’s plenty in the pantry for you to eat, and you can make grilled cheese if you want. I trust you’re not going to set the house on fire. You’re still not quite old enough to look after your sister alone, but for one day, over the summer, I thought you would be pleased.”

  “I—” Ordinarily, I would be grateful, but right now it just sounds lonely.

  “I’ll be home by six thirty and we can go out for dinner, since we didn’t make it last night. In fact, let me set a reminder to make a new reservation.”

  Mom goes to get ready, leaving me—for what will be the entire day—to my own devices.

  It turns out, even when your sister’s turned on you, when you’re kind of in a fight with all your new friends, and you totally hate your old best friend for destroying your life and your summer, being by yourself all day can be pretty boring.

  Attending your mom’s boss’s Fourth of July pre-celebration the next day is also boring (even if there’s a giant pool, more hot dogs than I’ve ever seen in my life, and a huge sheet cake decorated with strawberries and blueberries like the American flag), because none of those things are much fun when there aren’t any other kids to talk to. Evie does send me a message filled with little firework emojis Monday morning, which feels like a truce, but it doesn’t make me forgive her all the way for butting in about Tyrick, especially since Aja hasn’t said another word to me. I would try to check my feed to see if she’s posted anything lately, but then I’d run into something of Cassie’s, so I spend most of the party curled in a corner with another library book.

  Since Mom has the holiday off, we go grocery shopping and run a bunch of other errands, including taking time to get pedicures together at a spa we know will be open. It’s a surprising treat in general, but especially without Leelu around, because she always wants pedicures.

  “Leelu will be jealous,” I say to Mom as we choose our polish.

  “Well, she’ll get plenty of the princess treatment where she’s going.”

  Her mock-exasperated tone feels like a private joke between us, and I lean a bit into her, enjoying the closeness. She puts her arm around me and we twirl the rack slowly, taking our time choosing the right color—another thing we can’t do with Leelu around, since she always grabs iridescent pink right away.

  “My sisters and I used to fight right before one of us was going away on a trip, too,” Mom tells me after a minute.

  I look up at her.

  “When you love each other so much, it’s hard being apart.”

  “She hates me.” I suddenly feel sad. “Everyone does.”

  “Leelu doesn’t hate you. I bet she misses you right this minute. And you have Aja, and Evie, too.”

  Probably both of us notice she doesn’t mention Cassie. It’s surprising that she still hasn’t, and disappointing in a way I can’t quite describe. At the same time, though, it also feels grown-up. Like she trusts I’ll come to her when I’m ready to.

  “Aja’s mad because I don’t like Tyrick anymore,” I admit.

  Mom’s face is half curious, half amused. “I have a feeling she’ll get over that. Besides, you’re the one who decides who you like, not her. Just listen to yourself.”

  It’d do no good to point out t
hat Cassie apparently hasn’t gotten over anything, or how hard it is to listen to yourself when everyone else abandons you. Maybe they’re right, instead of Mom.

  “It’s a good thing you’re starting that new camp tomorrow,” Mom says after we’re settled in our chairs and I still haven’t responded. “This class could be the fresh start you need.”

  I don’t want to think about camp yet. I want it to be just me and Mom, like this, for a while. But as soon as I sink my feet into the warm, bubbling water, my phone jangles in my purse with a FaceTime call.

  Mom indicates I should answer it. “It’s probably your sister.”

  “Hi, sissie.” Leelu waves into the camera when I get it turned on.

  Dad leans in. “We miss you, Fiona.”

  Seeing both of them makes me miss them immediately too, until the screen jiggles and shifts, and Jennifer’s face appears. “Could you believe those fireworks last night, Fee?”

  I dismiss her with an “mmm” noise. The truth is, I could hardly watch the video she sent of Leelu prettily waving sparklers at the night parade and gazing at the overwhelmingly beautiful fireworks, because it made me too sad. Tonight’s official Fourth of July show will be even more extravagant.

  “Look what Jennifer got me.” Leelu brings the phone closer to her chest, where she’s holding out an aquamarine snowflake pendant on a thin silver chain: something much prettier and more sophisticated than the Elsa junk I was certain she’d come back with. “And there’s a ring too, see?”

  She moves her hand so close to the camera that the ring is too blurry, but it shines with just as many rhinestones as the pendant. My sadness hardens into something tight in my throat. Leelu’s not worried about our fight anymore, but only because of something terrific Jennifer did.

  “We have one picked out for you too,” Dad says. “Leelu just couldn’t decide what color.”

  “I don’t need one,” I say.

  Leelu frowns. “But then we’ll match.”

  “I have enough jewelry.” I make sure Jennifer hears it too.

  Dad chuckles. “We will pick you out something else, then. There are still plenty of days, and so much we haven’t seen.”