“Okay,” I said, a little confused, since Dawn had never exactly been committed to her job. “Should I call you later?”
“I have to go,” she said, not really sounding angry any longer, just sounding sad. “I have to work, and then I have this date to get ready for, so . . .”
A moment too late, the penny dropped. Dawn didn’t want to talk to me anymore. She didn’t want to be friends with me, not after what I’d done. We said stilted good-byes and I hung up the phone, feeling like everything in my life was suddenly breaking apart and floating away just when I needed it most.
After I hung up with Dawn, I called Collins. When he answered the phone, he sounded wary, and I hadn’t gotten far in my halting explanation when he cut me off.
“I know what happened,” he said, letting out a long breath. “This isn’t good, Emily.”
“I know that,” I said. Any last hopes I was holding on to that Frank might want to still be friends again, or that we might be able to move past this, ended when I heard the resigned tone in Collins’s voice. “But I just wanted to—”
“You know I can’t do this, right?” he asked, not sounding angry, mostly just tired. “I can’t take your side. He’s my best friend.”
“I know he is,” I said, “But if you could just talk to him—”
“I can’t,” Collins said. “Even if I wanted to, which I reallydon’t. He’s in New—” Collins stopped abruptly, but I’d heard enough to put it together. I hadn’t realized that I could feel worse, but I did. I now understood why Frank’s truck hadn’t been at his house. He was gone. He had gone to Princeton. He had chosen his girlfriend. Of coursehe had; it wasn’t even a question. And he’d slept there, with her.
I knew I had no right to feel mad about this, but even so, I had to fight back the tears that were threatening to escape—for what Frank and I had had, and for what we would never have, and for what I’d broken.
“I’m sorry, Em,” Collins said, and I could hear that he meant it.
“Yeah,” I whispered, not trusting myself to say much more, trying to keep my voice steady so that he wouldn’t hear that I was about to burst into tears. It was suddenly becoming clear to me that I had nobody on my side. “Have a good time tonight.”
“Thanks,” he said, and his voice was gentle when he added, “Take care, okay?”
And I’d nodded, even though Collins couldn’t see me do it, and hung up, realizing that he had just told me good-bye. So I’d lost Dawn, and Collins, and of course, Frank. With one stupid action, I’d just wrecked everything that I’d built over the course of the summer.
And now my mother was standing in my doorway, because even she had noticed that something was wrong. “Hi,” I said, setting down the pair of shoes Sloane had bought for me the last time we’d been at a flea market together. I squinted at my mother, and noticed that she was wearing actual clothing, and that her hair was washed. “Did you guys finish your play?”
My mother gave me a smile that was equal parts thrilled and tired. “Late last night,” she said.
“Wow,” I said, making myself smile at her. “That’s great. Congrats.”
“Thanks,” she said, her smile fading as she took a step closer into my room. “I’m just a little worried about you.”
“I’m fine,” I said quickly, automatically. And if my mother had still been deep in writing mode, she would have left it at that. But she just looked at me a moment longer, the kind of look that let me know that she was back, and the slack I’d been able to have all summer was pretty much over.
“We’ll talk later,” she said, her tone leaving open no real discussion of this. “But right now, Frank’s downstairs.”
I stared at her. “He is?”
She nodded as she headed out of my room. “And you might want to rescue him,” she added. “I think Beckett’s down there with him.”
That was all I needed to hear. I pushed myself off the bed, and glanced at the mirror briefly before taking the steps downstairs two at a time. I didn’t look my best, but Frank had seen me, for so many mornings, right after I’d rolled out of bed. And since I had a feeling that he was only there to tell me what I already knew—that we weren’t friends anymore—I wasn’t sure I necessarily needed to look great for that.
I found him and Beckett on the front porch, Beckett showing off his ninja kicks, all of which were getting distressingly close to Frank’s face. Just seeing Frank again was enough to make it feel like one of Beckett’s kicks had landed right in my stomach, and I hated how much I’d missed him. “Beck,” I said, looking away from Frank, not sure I was really up to talking directly to him just yet. “Be careful.”
My little brother looked at me scornfully. “I’m always careful,” he said, before attempting a roundhouse kick that landed him flat on his back on the porch. “Ow,” he muttered.
“Can we talk?” Frank asked me.
Since Beckett was showing no signs of moving from the porch, I nodded toward the driveway. “Want to take a walk?”
“Sure,” he said easily. I looked at him and realized that for some reason he looked happy. Clearly, he had not had the same few days that I had. He had just rolled with it, and probably everything in his life was still going wonderfully.
I could feel my anger start to build as he followed me up the driveway, toward the mailbox. As we walked, I noticed there were only our cars parked there. “Did you walk here?”
He nodded, and smiled at me, like life was just so great. “I kind of felt like it.”
I nodded, swallowing hard, wishing he would just get this over with. When I hadn’t heard from him after his text, I’d assumed that this would be our new status quo—we’d just never speak again, and forget about everything we’d shared over the course of the summer. But I’d forgotten I was dealing with Frank Porter, who probably wanted to make sure that I was fine with pretending that we’d never been friends, so he could cross this issue off, one more thing neatly and successfully resolved.
We had only gone a few steps down the road when he stopped and looked at me. “Listen,” he said. He was smiling again, like he was just so happy he couldn’t hide it, even as he was preparing to break my heart. “Emily. I just wanted to—”
“You know, we don’t have to do this,” I said, cutting him off. I couldn’t do much about this situation, but I could limit the number of times this week that people told me they were done with me forever. “I get it, okay?”
He just looked at me for a moment, his brow furrowed. “You do?”
“I do,” I said, crossing my arms over my chest. “I got the message.”
Now he looked very confused, his head tilting to the side. “What message?”
“That we’re not friends anymore,” I said, and even though I was trying to keep my voice steady, it broke on the last word. “And you know what, maybe we never were. And it’s not like we’re going to be friends when school starts, so it’s probably just better this way.”
Frank shook his head. “What are you talking about? I wanted to—”
“I just don’t need to hear it, okay?” I could hear how high and shaky my voice sounded. “We don’t have to do this.”
Frank looked at me, and I could see some of his sureness—his confidence—begin to ebb. “We don’t?”
I shook my head. I just didn’t want to go along with it. Maybe for once, Frank Porter didn’t get to have everything neatly resolved. “I get that you were trying to be the good guy and come here so we could put it behind us. But I don’t need it.” And then, because I didn’t think I could stay there and look at him anymore, I turned and walked away, back toward my house.
I heard Frank call my name, but I didn’t turn around, and when he called it again, I broke into a run, aware as I did so that it was the first time all summer that I was running alone.