Nobody says anything to me, or even knocks on the door. I’m grateful and disappointed at the same time. I bury myself in my laptop screen — I’ve been working on something to surprise Bluebird — but the more I try to distract myself, the more restless I am. I don’t even realize I’ve started tap-tap-tapping my foot on the wall until Ethan bangs his hand on it from the other room to remind me to stop.
I’m too stuck in my own head. I pull out my phone reflexively, the way I have too many times to count in the last few months — talking to Bluebird has been like touching base with something outside myself, as if we’re just close enough to ease each other’s minds but far enough away it never feels as scary as it should.
I open Weazel and glance briefly at the Hallway Chat. A few people are swapping contact information for different organizations that are looking for volunteers, since the Honors Society kids have twenty-five hours due at the end of the month. Other than that, it’s a pretty slow night.
I hear footsteps in the hall and pull off my headphones, wondering if one of my parents is going to knock. I hear my mom’s voice, though, and realize she’s talking to Ethan.
“… nothing to do with this Weazel app we’re getting all these emails about?”
“I’m not even on it. Don’t have the time. Why?”
“Oh, I don’t know. They’re saying a student made the app. And I know you’re good with computers…”
“Mom, I fixed the Wi-Fi, like, two times. I can’t develop entire apps.”
Whatever they say next, I don’t catch. I shove my headphones over my ears and blast the music loud enough to make them go raw. It’s the kind of feeling that transcends hurt or anger or any of the things I try not to feel when they do this, over and over and over again — always assume the best in Ethan, and just plain forget about me.
Okay. That’s not fair. They don’t know I’m in here teaching myself to make apps, and they certainly aren’t asking Ethan because they’re proud of the idea of him making my unfairly maligned creation. But it doesn’t stop my hands from curling and uncurling, doesn’t stop my teeth from grinding together, doesn’t stop me from wanting to open the window and scream out into the street like the New York cliché I’ve probably been destined to become from the start.
I click out of the Weazel app, then, and pull up Pepper’s number.
Did you get home okay?
I’m not expecting her to answer so quickly.
Yeah — thanks again. You were a real lifesaver
I’m weirdly nervous texting her, like it’s somehow left me more exposed than actually talking straight to her face. And I guess in a way it has. Every time we interact, it’s because we have to — whether for the swim and dive teams, or Twitter, or ill-fated college admissions interviews. This is voluntary. Personal. Like anything she writes or doesn’t write back can affect me twice as much as it would otherwise.
Today 7:21 PM
Sorry for being a dick.
You weren’t
… But Ethan did TOTALLY screw up our bet.
Yeah. I’m less than pleased with him at the moment
Pepper’s typing, and then not typing, and then typing again. I wince, watching the little ellipses come and go. I can almost picture the exact look on her face on the sidewalk this morning, in the beats where she was trying to decide whether to speak or leave it be.
But he’s still your brother
My throat feels thick. It hits the nail on the head, in so few words — I can’t really hate Ethan any more than I could hate myself.
Today 7:27 PM
Yeah. Even if I want to scream at him sometimes
Hey, that’s the whole point of having siblings, isn’t it?
Do you and your sister fight?
Physically. In cage matches.
I snort. She’s still typing.
Today 7:28 PM
No, not really. But I’m mad at her sometimes. You know, sister stuff.
Like — the divorce happened, and everyone else found a way to get used to it. She’s the only one who won’t
Stubbornness must be another Evans virtue
Then breaking the rules of Twitter wars must be a Campbell one
I’ve stopped fidgeting, at least, but I only realize this because I’ve started chewing a hole into my cheek. The truth is, I haven’t even opened Twitter since I saw the picture of Ethan on the Hub’s timeline. I know we’re winning, and I wish we weren’t. It sucks all the fun out of it.
And for a little while, it was fun. Waking up in the morning to see what Pepper had cooked up the night before. Waiting to see the indignant look on her face when she opened up a response, and waiting to see the sly one that replaced it when she came up with something else. At some point, it stopped being a war and started being a game.
Today 7:35 PM
Are we maybe going too far with the Twitter thing now?
TBH, BLB has been going too far since the beginning. Thank god you guys got more followers or we’d really look like assholes
Eh, you don’t need our help to do that
But I mean more with the … phones and the hacking and stuff
Well, that was super shitty. And my mom was not pleased
But you know what’s weird is that Pooja and I are kind of friends now because of it?
Wait, what? Did I stumble into a parallel universe?
I’m part of her study groups now. We’re getting lunch tomorrow afterward
WOW. From frenemies to study buddies
This is going to turn the whole school upside down. Like, full on dancing in the cafeteria, “stick to the status quo” upside down
Yeah, it’s nice.
If you think you got away with making a High School Musical reference without me mercilessly mocking you for it, you’re wrong. I’m saving it for later
Noted. And I guess Paul had fun with the whole espionage thing
Just how pissed is your mom, though?
Eh. She’s mostly annoyed
I may have made a colossal mess stress-baking in the kitchen though, and have been banned from baking in the apartment for the rest of the week
Oh, shit. That sucks
Yeah, for you. No more random baked goods
I start to type and then stop. This could be a mistake. Like, the kind of mistake with a consequence as small as Pepper laughing in my face or as large as my parents tearing me a new one.
But I can’t imagine my parents not liking Pepper. Even Ethan remains somewhat endeared to her, despite disrespecting our Twitter rules.
So I send the text.
Today 7:47 PM
You could always come use our ovens
And step foot in the enemy camp?
It’s not a no.
Today 7:48 PM
We’d only poison you a little bit!
Seriously, though … you think after this we should just call it quits?
On the Twitter thing?
It occurs to me she thinks I might mean something else — namely, the whole friendship thing that seems to have inadvertently bloomed out of the Twitter thing.
Yeah. I think it’s run its course, probably
It takes Pepper a bit longer to respond.
Today 7:55 PM
Agreed
After the Hub thing is over?
It was my idea, but suddenly I’m reluctant to agree. No more tweeting means a whole lot less of Pepper, something I didn’t even know meant anything to me until right now — right now, when I’m every bit as annoyed about the Ethan thing on her behalf as I am on mine. Right now, when I’m actually upset over something as dumb as her getting grounded from baking.