It looks like St. Valentine vomited in my living room.
I am surrounded by boxes overflowing with pink, white, and red trinkets. Goodie bag paraphernalia. I sigh and cram another I’m waiting for my prince shirt into a pink canvas bag. I’ve been at it for two hours and have finished only four bags—I’m not sure if it’s because it’s an arduous task or because it’s a boring one. My mind wanders. I wonder what would happen if I slipped condoms into a few bags? I could even get the strawberry-flavored ones so they match….
Ugh. I toss a heart-shaped candle in on top of the shirt.
I thought about calling Jonas to help—it’s a thought that keeps popping up in my head like one of those little Whac-a-Mole games. It pops up; I remind myself that he slept with Anna Clemens and smash it back down.
And then it pops up again. I suck at this game.
Truth is, I know I can’t delay calling him much longer. I already had Dad answer my phone and tell him I’m sick, but if I keep this up, Jonas is probably going to show up at my front door. I have to face him sooner or later. I take a deep breath. Just call him.
I grab my phone and dial, fast, before I can change my mind.
“Finally! I was worried,” he says when he answers, exhaling in relief. “Why didn’t you call? I had to find out from Anna about Ben.”
Her name in his voice bites at me. Did she tell Jonas that I know about them? Surely not—I’d be able to tell, wouldn’t I? Or does he think it wasn’t that big a deal, either?
I hope that’s not it.
“Sorry,” I say. “I was upset.” A half truth, but a truth. “Can you come over? I need help with some ball stuff. I’ve got to put a bunch of goodie bags together.”
“Of course,” Jonas says, and I hear him grab his keys. “Be there in ten minutes.”
Jonas actually arrives eleven minutes later—I know, because I counted them down nervously.
“Hi,” I say when I open the door. Jonas smiles, steps in, and hugs me, his arms wrapped tightly around my shoulders. My face involuntarily breaks into a smile, and I return the embrace. It’s different, though, not the way he and I normally hug. Is it him, or me? The weight of knowing he slept with Anna is amazingly not as heavy as the question of how I actually feel about him, if I actually love him. I hold on a moment longer than normal, hoping something in his arms will answer my uncertainties.
“Thanks for coming to help,” I say when he releases me.
“Glad to help and watch your cable,” Jonas says. “I also had to hear from Ruby that you crossed off a list item without me. Flowers on every grave?”
I blush. “Almost. I was one short, so I didn’t put one on my mom’s.”
He shrugs but looks strangely proud of me. “We’ll drop one off sometime, so you can cross it off officially.”
I lead him into the living room, where the television is barely visible among the piles of boxes.
Jonas gasps.
“We had to get everything rush-shipped,” I explain as Jonas stares at the dozens of boxes with a look of horror on his face.
“Christ, Shelby, since when are goodie bags more than some candy and pencils?”
“Since they became Princess Ball–themed, I’d wager. So, just put one of each item into the bags…. Which box is the bags?” I murmur to myself as I kick the boxes over to read the shipping labels. “Ah, this one. Anyway, just one of each item into the bag.”
“Right,” Jonas says. He flips on the television to Animal Cops and rips the tape off a box of “fresh n’ clean”–scented perfume. I think it smells more like pipe cleaner than the lilies and clouds on the box, but whatever.
“There’s something really sick about candy in the shape of a cross,” Jonas says, holding up one of the white chocolate crosses—they were made special, with the church’s name molded onto them. His eyes are dark brown—I mean, they’ve always been dark brown, but suddenly all I can think about is how different they are from Daniel’s or Ben’s. And maybe Jeffery’s. Can’t forget about Jeffery—I wonder what color his eyes are. I look down.
“I know,” I say, my voice a little stilted. Jeffery, think about Jeffery. I inhale and force words from my lips. “So… since Ben didn’t work out, I’m on to guy number three, I guess.” I smash a few silk flowers into a bag.
Jonas frowns. “Any idea who?”
“There’s a guy who works with Ruby. His name is Jeffery. She said he was interested in me.”
“Are you sure you want to sleep with a total stranger, Shel?” he asks, raising his eyes to mine.
“I have to. You know that,” I say calmly. Jonas’s eyes waver. It gives me some sort of sick satisfaction to know the LOVIN plan still bothers him.
“Yeah…” Jonas drifts off and fills the silence that follows by crinkling the cellophane bag of princess-themed rubber bracelets.
I sigh. This isn’t what I want—isn’t what I need, to irritate, even hurt, my best friend. I need to do what my dad said. I need to talk to him. There’s a tiny part of me that, stupid as it sounds, feels like if I never hear Jonas admit to sleeping with Anna, it won’t be true. But I can’t just stay silent.
“I…” I don’t know what to say. Jonas looks at me, waiting for me to go on.
“You…?” he says when I can’t find the words.
“Anna,” I finally spit out. “Anna said something to me at the party.”
“About?” he asks.
“You.”
They slept together. I mean, I already knew, but the look on Jonas’s face confirms it. His eyebrows sink, lips part, breath shortens, like he’s afraid to speak. He finally looks back down at his goodie bag and licks his lips.
“You slept with her and didn’t tell me?” I ask, though I didn’t mean to. The question found its way out of my mouth on its own. I try to smile, make the question light, but the resulting expression is forced and awkward. I look down.
“Shel, I…”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” I ask quietly.
“I didn’t even mean for it to happen,” Jonas explains. “You were with Daniel and I was just… lonely, I guess? And she wanted to and then it just… it just happened. I’m sorry.”
“But why didn’t you tell me?” I repeat, and any attempt at lightness in my voice is gone.
Jonas inhales and shakes his head, meets my eyes across the room. “I was afraid you’d be mad at me.” I don’t say anything, so he continues. “And by the looks of it, I was right.”
“I’m not mad,” I lie. “I mean, I’m not mad you slept with her. I’m mad you kept it from me.”
“You’re not mad I slept with Anna?” Jonas asks doubtfully.
“No,” I say, a little shriller than I intended. “Why should I be?”
“Because…” he begins, but he can’t figure out what to say. He tosses a shirt into the bag and then pushes it away from him.
“I don’t care,” I say. “It doesn’t matter to me that you slept with her. Just don’t keep secrets from me. But seriously, fuck whoever you want.”
“Shelby,” Jonas says, confusion in his tone. “You don’t mean that.”
“Why wouldn’t I?” I ask. “We aren’t together, Jonas. You’re allowed to have sex with whoever you want. I mean, you aren’t mad I’m going to have sex with Jeffery, are you?”
There’s a long silence. Jonas finally sighs and shakes his head. “No. You have to do it to keep the Promises. It’s fine,” he says shortly.
Why was that not the answer I wanted to hear?
The conversation ends there, and the room fills with the sounds of the TV and the slow, irritating cadence of bags being filled. There’s more I want to say, but I’m not sure exactly what it is. Whatever it is, it’s eating at me from the inside out. I bite my lips and cram a pair of pink nail polishes into a bag.
Jonas sighs and sits back, then meets my eyes for a long time. “Do you want me to go?” he asks slowly.
“Why?”
“Because I…” he looks at me meaningfully. But I don’t move, don’t blink, don’t look away. He presses his lips together, and when they part he speaks fast. “I lied. I don’t want you to sleep with Jeffery. And I don’t want you to go through with the LOVIN plan. I think you’re taking the Promises too far.”
“You know I have to keep them,” I snap.
“Not like this,” Jonas says.
“Why do you care?” I ask slowly. “Why does it matter to you if I get laid?”
There’s a flicker in the back of my mind, a want for him to be the one to say it because I don’t think I can—that we are more than just friends.
“Because you’re better than that, Shelby!” he says. “You’re too good to sleep with some guy just to keep a Promise.”
“But you’re not too good to fuck Anna Clemens? She’s just a social climber. How can you even like her?”
Jonas looks taken aback, like I’ve struck him. He exhales and rises.
“You’re sleeping with someone for a Promise. I slept with Anna because I wanted to at the time. The fact that your mom died doesn’t mean your reasons are better than mine or you’re better than Anna.”
He gives me a strange look—part pity, part angry, all cold—then walks toward the door. I hear him pause in the foyer for a moment, then the door open and shut. I crawl across the living room to peer out the blinds, and I watch Lucinda pulling out of my driveway.
I shouldn’t have said that. I rise and go to the door, maybe I can catch him, call out, we can talk, we can fix this. But I freeze when I see it on the table in the foyer. Wrinkled and soft-looking, folded up with the title facing me: Life List, written across the top in bubble script.
What do I do?
You’ve gotta be honest with the people you love.
Maybe Dad’s right about that—no, not maybe. I know he’s right. I know I should have told Jonas the truth, that something has changed, that the idea of him with Anna made me feel sick. I should have told him because I love him, definitely as a friend, maybe as more.
But I’m afraid. Especially now, because I know Jonas was right about one thing at least—I’ve called girls like Anna whores, judged them, hated them, but I’m not better than them. I’m not better than Jonas. I’m trying to have sex, just like they are. Does that mean I’m a slut?
I don’t know.
So what do I do now, Dad? I need advice to go with your advice.
I take the list delicately in my hands and retreat to my bedroom—I put it on my desk and stare at it, like I’m trying to figure out a way to save its life. Trying to find a way to save Jonas and me.