HONESTY IS A DISH BEST SERVED WARM.
WITH FROSTING.
Saturday, 7:47 P.M.
“Paige. I know you’re mad, and you have every right to be. But you have to call me back.” I shivered, leaning against Sugar Daddy’s glass storefront. “I mean, you don’t have to. But I want you to. Please?”
On the other side of the window, Molly, Liv, and Nessa waved me inside from their perch on our usual couches in the back.
I stashed the phone in the inside pocket of my jacket, wondering if I’d ever get the chance to apologize to Paige in person. I’d lost count of how many times I’d called, how many messages I’d left.
Sugar Daddy was in chaos—screaming kids with colored frosting goatees darted around the antique student desks and played hide-and-seek behind the cupcake bar. North Shore moms barked orders into iPhones and BlackBerrys while rocking strollers back and forth.
My North Shore mom should have grounded me, but she was too depressed to forbid me to leave the house.
I plopped next to Molly at the end of the couch, and she squeezed my arm. “Glad you’re feeling better.” Her voice was pinched, high.
“Huh? Oh, yeah.” I’d explained my early exit last night as sudden illness. “Much better.”
“I don’t know. You don’t look so good,” Liv said cautiously. She tucked her feet beneath her and spread the hem of her colorful maxi skirt over her boots. It looked familiar, but I couldn’t remember when she’d last worn it.
Nessa looked up from the Trib review of a French film playing at the indie theater down the road. “C’est vrai,” she agreed.
“I’ll be fine.” I sighed. I wanted to tell them everything. To come clean about Levi. About Paige. And about Zander. To start fresh.
“What’s going on?” Liv prompted.
I gripped the plate of the cupcake the girls had gotten me so tightly, it should have cracked. “It’s Paige.”
“Ah.” Liv nodded solemnly. “Are you worried about how devastated you’ll be when she passes on?”
“No, that’s not—”
“Did the news guy say whether she was contagious?” Molly asked worriedly.
“Ohmygod. She’s not—”
“How have I never heard of Verticopolus?” Nessa sniffed.
“Because it isn’t real!” I burst out. “Don’t you think I would have told you guys if Paige was really dying? I made it up!”
Their heads snapped toward me.
My face felt hot. “It’s kind of a long story.”
“Does Paige know she isn’t dying?” Liv asked.
“Ooh!” Molly’s eyes glinted. “Don’t tell her! She’d be all, ‘And I bequeath to Kacey my ugly black shoe collection,’ and you’d be all, ‘Um, over my dead body. Oops!’ ” She burst into giggles, obviously proud of herself.
“Bequeath?” Nessa raised an eyebrow.
“What? I know words.” Molly sniffed.
I smacked her arm. “Of course she knows she isn’t dying.” My head was spinning, and the smell of sugar was starting to give me a headache. I shoved my plate as far away as possible.
“We’re going to need you to start from the beginning.” Nessa folded the sleeves on her three-quarter tuxedo blazer and took a long sip from her mug.
Slowly, carefully, I explained everything about the Paige situation.
“My mom’s miserable, and Paige won’t talk to me, and Zander and I—”
I froze. Zander and I. Had I really just said that?
“Zander and you… what?” Molly swiveled toward me. I couldn’t read her. Her eyes were clouded, but her mouth twitched like she was on the verge of a smile.
“We’ve kind of been hanging out,” I croaked. “And I didn’t tell you because I thought you’d be mad, and I’m really sorry, but it won’t happen again because he hates me now.”
The girls were silent.
I should have felt lighter. Now everyone knew everything. I had nothing left to hide from the people closest to me. I should have felt like my old self again. Instead, I felt a cold rush of dread welling up inside me as I waited for my friends’ judgment to rain down on me.
“It’s okay,” Molly said quietly.
“No, Mols. It’s not. I’m sorry.” Why did people keep forgiving me when I didn’t deserve it? “I’ve been a terrible friend, and it’s not okay, and I’m gonna make it up to you. I promise. Just tell me what I can do to—”
“YoucanforgivemeforkindofholdinghandswithQuinnlastnight,” Molly said under her breath.
I glanced at Liv and Nessa, who nodded.
“QUINN?” I shrieked.
Molly scrambled backward on the couch. “I’m SORRY! But you’ve been hanging out with Zander!”
“I know! But Quinn? When did this—how long have you guys—” I swallowed, feeling some combination of relief and nausea.
“Just last night. And we only held hands, I swear. It was just… after the rally… all that power.”
“What happened to the Girl Code?”
“I haaaate the Girl Code,” Molly exhaled. “I mean, it’s not really fair, right? You can’t help who you like, and friends shouldn’t get in the way of each other’s crushes! Especially when they didn’t work out. Right? Who’s with me?” She jumped up and dropped down again. Her eyes were crazed.
Dumbfounded, I tried to take it all in. Molly and Quinn. Quinn and Molly. Actually, it made perfect sense. But was it weird, swapping boyfriends like this? Boys weren’t like shoes or a favorite pair of jeans.
But we aren’t swapping boyfriends, I reminded myself. Swapping would mean that Zander and I were still together.
“Okay.” I bit my lip. “You’re right. We shouldn’t get in the way of each other’s crushes. If you like Quinn, you should go for it.”
“Ohhhmygod.” Molly practically jumped in my lap and threw her arms around my neck. “Thankyouthankyouthankyou.”
Nessa and Liv sighed in unison, looking relieved.
“Just like I never should have gotten in the way of my mom and Gabe,” I said sadly.
“So get them back together!” Molly chirped.
“Yeah,” Nessa agreed. “One missed date shouldn’t be enough to break them up for good. They really like each other, right?”
I nodded. “Yeah. They did. They do.” I thought back to the sparkle in Mom’s eyes at the Millennium Park skating rink. To the lightness in her voice whenever she’d talked about Gabe. To the way they flirted right in front of Stevie and me. That last part I could do without, but the rest… Well, who was I to take happiness away from my own mother?
“Okay,” I decided, nodding at the girls. “We’ll come up with a plan. But first I have to talk to Stevie. And maybe Zander.” My eyes cut to Molly. She squeezed my knee.
“Good girl,” Liv said warmly. She stood up and fluffed her skirt. The colorful fabric caught my eye.
“Hey. Did you make that?”
“Yeah. You want one?”
“Do you have any of the fabric left over?”
“I think so.” Liv looked at me quizzically.
“Do you think I could borrow it?” The beginnings of a plan were starting to crystallize in my mind. The kind of plan that maybe, just maybe, could fix everything.
“Sure, of course.”
Molly’s lip protruded about six inches from her face. “Hey! No fair! How come she gets to know what’s going on?”
“She doesn’t,” I said secretively. “Not yet, at least.” I grabbed my messenger bag and hopped up. “I have to go. Call you guys later.”
“Good luck!” the girls called after me.
“Thanks,” I said, gratefully. I was going to need it.