“But—but—” he sputters at me. The confusion on his face is replaced by rage. “You can’t break up with me.”
I unconsciously shuffle backward, crossing my arms. “Why’s that?”
He looks at me like I’m the dumbest person alive. “You,” he says, almost spitting the word, “cannot break up with me.”
Then I get it. Rob does remember. He remembers that in sixth grade he said I wasn’t cool enough for him—remembers it, and still believes it. Any sympathy I still feel for him vanishes in that moment, and as he’s standing there, bright red with his fists clenched, it amazes me how ugly I find him.
“I can do it,” I say calmly. “I just did.”
“And I waited for you. I waited for you for months.” He turns away and mutters something I don’t hear.
“What?”
He looks back at me, his face twisted with disgust and anger. This cannot be the same person who a week ago nestled against my shoulder and told me I was his personal blanket. It’s like his face has dropped away and there’s a totally different face underneath.
“I said I should have screwed Gabby Haynes when she asked me to over break,” he says coldly.
Something flares in my stomach, leftover pain or pride, but it passes quickly enough and is replaced again by a feeling of calm. I’m already gone from here, already flying over this, and I can suddenly understand exactly what Juliet feels, must have felt for some time. Thinking about her brings my strength back, and I even manage to smile.
“It’s never too late for second chances,” I say sweetly, and then I walk away to have my last lunch with my best friends.
Ten minutes later, when I’m finally sitting down at our usual table—scarfing an enormous roast beef sandwich with mayonnaise and a plate full of fries, hungrier than I’ve been in a long time—and Juliet comes through the cafeteria, I see she has placed a single rose in the empty water bottle that is strapped to the side of her backpack. She’s looking around, too, her face cutting the curtain of her hair in two, checking each and every table she passes, searching, looking for clues. Her eyes are bright and alert. She’s chewing her lip, but she doesn’t look unhappy. She looks alive. My heart skips a beat: this is the important thing.
As she weaves past our table, I see a folded note fluttering just under the petals of her rose, and even though I’m too far away to read it, I can see what’s written there clearly, even when I close my eyes. A single phrase.
It’s never too late.
“So what’s up with you today?” Lindsay asks on the way to The Country’s Best Yogurt. We’ve almost reached the Row, the line of small shops clustered at the crest of the hill like mushrooms. The blanket of dark clouds is being drawn over the horizon inch by inch, bringing the promise of snow.
“What do you mean?” We’re walking arm-in-arm, trying to stay warm. I wanted Ally and Elody to come along, but Elody had a Spanish test, and Ally insisted that if she missed another English class she’d probably get suspended. I didn’t make a big deal out of it.
A day like any other.
“I mean, why are you acting so weird?”
I’m trying to formulate an answer and Lindsay goes on, “Like, zoning out at lunch and stuff.” She bites her lip. “I got this text from Amy Weiss….”
“Yeah?”
“Amy Weiss is obviously crazy, and I would never believe anything she says, especially about you,” Lindsay qualifies quickly.
“Obviously,” I say, amused, pretty sure I know where this is headed.
“But…” Lindsay sucks in a deep breath and says in a rush, “She says she was talking to Steve Waitman, who was talking to Rob, who said that you broke up?” Lindsay shoots a glance at me and forces a laugh. “I told her it was bullshit, obviously.”
I pause, choosing my words carefully. “It’s not bullshit. It’s true.”
Lindsay stops walking and stares. “What?”
“I broke up with him at lunch.”
She shakes her head like she’s trying to dislodge the words from her brain. “And, um, were you planning on sharing this little piece of news at some point? With your best friends? Or were you just counting on it to make the rounds eventually?”
I can tell she’s really hurt. “Listen, Lindsay, I was going to tell you—”
She presses her hands to both ears, still shaking her head. “I don’t understand. What happened? You guys were supposed to—I mean, you told me you wanted to—tonight.”
I sigh. “This is why I didn’t want to tell you, Lindz. I knew you’d make a big deal out of it.”
“That’s because it is a big deal.”
Lindsay’s so outraged she’s not even paying attention as we pass Hunan Kitchen: she’s too busy glaring at me like she expects me to suddenly turn blue or combust, like I can never be trusted again.
It occurs to me she’s really going to feel that way after I do what I’m about to do, but it can’t be helped. I turn to her, putting my arms on her shoulders. “Wait here for a second, okay?”
She blinks at me. “Where are you going?”
“I have to stop in Hunan Kitchen for a second.” I brace myself, waiting for her to freak out. “I kind of have something for Anna Cartullo.”
I’m prepared for her to scream or stalk off or throw gummy bears at me or something, but instead her face goes totally blank like the power switch has been flipped off. I’m kind of worried she may be going into shock, but the opportunity is too good to pass up.