The Thing About the Truth (15 page)

Rielle waves her hand. “She probably won’t even know it’s gone.” She drops the slinky blue dress she’s holding into a heap on the floor. “So, how was the kiss?” she asks.

“Perfect,” I say. “Amazing.” I’m pulling off my T-shirt and trying on the ruffly top.

“So then what?”

“What do you mean, ‘then what’?” I yank the top down. I’m going to need a strapless bra with this one, for sure. I’m not the kind of girl who can get away with not wearing a bra. My boobs are a little too big. Plus I’m always paranoid that I’m going to have some kind of wardrobe malfunction and everyone will be staring at my nipples without me even knowing it.

“Then what happened after you kissed?”

“He drove me home.”

“He drove you
home
?” Rielle frowns, and I feel a little bit of panic start to rise up in me. So far I haven’t really let myself think too much about the kiss. Yes, I was dying to tell Rielle about it, but other than that, I’ve been working really hard not to get too worked up. I mean, the last thing I need is a boyfriend. Or even a crush.

“Yeah,” I say. I shrug and throw the shirt onto the growing pile of stuff that I’m borrowing. “It’s not like it’s a big thing or anything.”

“Okay,” Rielle says, not sounding convinced. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” I say, “I’m totally sure.” Suddenly I want to change the subject, to stop talking about Isaac. “Hey,” I say, “you want to go for pedicures? There’s this new place in the mall I’ve been dying to try.”

Rielle looks at me like she wants to say something else. But then she just shrugs. “Yeah,” she says, “sure.”

•  •  •

An hour later we’re at the pedicure place, our feet in those little paper flip-flops and drying under the dryer.

“So are you upset?” Rielle asks. She turns the page of the magazine she’s reading, an old
Us Weekly
that has the best and worst bikini bodies on the front.

“No,” I say, looking down at my crimson toes. “I love this color. The only thing that sucks is that I’m not sure it’s going to be warm enough to wear sandals and show them off.” They really should figure out a way around that. I mean, you spend all this money to make your feet look cute, and then after summer there’s no way to really show them off.

“No,” she says, “I mean because that guy Isaac hasn’t called you?”

“No.” I shrug. “Why would I be upset about that?”

“Um, because you guys kissed?”

When I think about kissing him, my heart starts to beat fast. But then I see the way Rielle’s looking at me. With a mixture of concern and worry. I know it’s because she thinks that if I get involved with another guy, I might go crazy again, the way I did with Rex. And I’m about to open my mouth to tell her that I’m fine, but then I shut it. Because the truth is, I’m not sure if I’m fine.

I mean, how do I know for certain that if I get close to another guy, I’m not going to go crazy again? I don’t. And so letting myself start to even think that anything could happen between me and Isaac is probably a really bad idea.

And besides, even if I
were
ready to get involved with someone, the last person it would be is Isaac Brandano. I mean, the guy’s like a big red flag. A red flag with arms and legs and killer abs. In fact, they should call him Red Flag Guy.

“I’m not upset at all,” I say to Rielle. “He’s like Red Flag Guy. Fun to kiss, but now that that’s been accomplished, I’m totally going to stay away from him.”

She grins, showing off her professionally whitened smile. “God, Kels, I am sooo glad you just said that. Honestly, after what happened with Rex, I was really worried about you.”

“Why? Were you afraid I was going to get all crazy again?”

“No,” she says, “just that, I don’t know, you might be scarred for life or something.” She holds her hand out in front of her face and frowns down at her nails. “I knew I should have gotten a manicure, too.”

“Scarred for life?”

“Yeah.” She pulls her feet away from the dryer and wiggles her toes. Rielle has very cute feet. Perfect size six, which means that we can never share shoes. I’m an eight and a half, a nine if I’m being completely honest. “You know how you always hear about things like that? Like, how people had a bad relationship in high school, and now all their relationships are a big mess?”

“Who?” I ask, and frown. “Who have you heard about that happening to?”

“I don’t know.” She shrugs. “All those people on those shows about thirtysomethings, like
Sex and the City
or whatever. They’re all, like, damaged.”

“I think that’s because they all have daddy issues,” I say, “not because they had broken hearts in high school.”

“Well, you have daddy issues too,” she says, grinning. “We all do.”

Ain’t that the truth. Still. I’m not sure I buy into her whole theory. It seems crazy that a high school relationship could mess you up for life. But something about the conversation must strike a chord with me, because when my phone rings a few minutes later and it’s Isaac, I don’t know if I should answer it or not.

“It’s him,” I say, staring down at the caller ID. “He’s calling me.”

My heart is bouncing around happily in my chest. It almost doesn’t seem real, his name flashing on the screen. I feel like I need to peer at it closely, to look at each letter, to make sure it’s really him. Weird, right? Even weirder is that
even after that whole semilecture from Rielle, I really, really want to talk to him.

“Are you going to answer it?” Rielle asks. And maybe it’s the way Rielle’s looking at me. Or maybe it’s just because I want to prove to myself that I don’t need Isaac Brandano. But before I know it, my hand is over the reject button. And then I decline the call and send it to voicemail.

Isaac

I’m drunk. At least, I think I am. It’s hard to tell. Probably because I’m so drunk. All I know is that this was the right choice. Definitely a good idea to come out here and have fun at the beach. I love the beach! There’s water! And sand! Everyone thinks it’s cold, but it’s really not.

We have a fire. All my classmates are around the fire. I love the fire.

The only thing I don’t love is Kelsey. She didn’t answer when I called her earlier, and even though I’m drunk drunk drunk, it’s bothering me. I want to call her again, but Marina will not leave me the fuck alone.

At first I kind of liked it. It was fun. I even danced with
her after I had my third beer. But now she’s just annoying. She won’t stay away from me. I think maybe my good-time drunk is starting to fade.

When I get drunk, there are always two phases. Happy Drunk Isaac comes first. This is when I’m the life of the party, dancing and having fun. I love everyone. Then Mean Drunk Isaac comes. Actually, I wouldn’t call it mean, exactly. More like Ornery and Slightly Irritable Isaac.

“Don’t you want to dance some more?” Marina asks. She might be even drunker than I am. But she’s still very much in happy mode. She’s sitting next to me on the sand, and she leans in close, slurring her words against my neck.

“No.” All I want to do is call Kelsey. “I’ll be right back. I have to make a phone call.”

I walk a little ways down the beach and pull out my phone. I can’t believe I’m calling a girl for the second time in one night. I never, ever do that. Usually I have a list of girls I call, and if one doesn’t answer, I just move on to the next. Okay, that sounds horrible. It’s not, like,
literally
a list. I just like to have options.

I dial Kelsey’s number. It takes me two tries. I keep messing up, hitting Ken in my contacts list instead. I don’t even know a Ken, hahaha.

Oh! It’s ringing! Ring . . . ring . . . ring . . .

This time she answers!

“Hello?” She sounds hesitant.

“Well, hello there,” I say, trying to sound suave.

“Are you drunk?” she asks immediately.

“Why would you ask that?” God, what is it with this girl? Every time I talk to her, she’s always thinking the worst of me. I decide it’s time to turn on the charm.

“Because it’s eleven o’clock at night and you’re calling me saying things like ‘hello there.’”

“I tried to call you earlier,” I point out. “But you didn’t answer.” I plop myself down in the sand and almost fall over. On the other end of the line, Kelsey’s silent. “Did you say something?” I ask. “If you did, I missed it.”

From down the beach, around the fire, I hear the sound of laughter.

“Where are you?” Kelsey asks.

“At the beach,” I say. Then I remember something. Something very important. “Hey!” I say. “You were supposed to come here with me! Remember? We were both invited!” I realize I’m talking kind of loud. So I decide to lower the volume. “You were invited,” I whisper. “You should come down here.” I don’t know how to get here. But maybe she has a GPS. Wait. She doesn’t drive. “Maybe your parents can drop you off,” I try.

“I can’t believe you’re calling me when you’re drunk,” she says. “I have to go.”

“You have to
go
?”

“Yes.”

“Why? What are you doing? Where were you before? I wanted to talk. It was important.” Suddenly I feel really upset. I’m thinking about what happened with my dad earlier. And I want to tell Kelsey about it for some reason.

“I was at the mall with my friend,” she says.

“And you didn’t have your phone?”

“I had my phone,” she says. Then she sighs. “Isaac, you’re drunk. Do you have a way home?”

“Yes,” I tell her. “There’s a designated driver.” I forget her name, though. Ray? No, that’s a boy’s name. Actually, it could be a girl’s name too. But it’s not Ray. Rochelle? Rachel? Raymond? Raymond is definitely a boy’s name. I laugh.

“Good.” She pauses. “I’ll talk to you later, okay?” That’s it. That’s all she says. Not
“Call me tomorrow”
or
“Hey, that was really nice when we kissed”
or
“I’m going to come down and meet you at the beach so I can make sure that Marina girl doesn’t steal you away from me.”

“I’ll talk to you
later
?” I ask incredulously.

“Isaac,” she says. “You. Are. Drunk.”

“Yeah? And what do you have against drunk people? Ooof.” I fall over into the sand. It gets in my mouth and I try to spit it out.

“Nothing,” she says, “but I don’t want to talk to you when you’re drunk.”

“I fell into the sand,” I say.

“Goodbye, Isaac.” The line goes dead.

Well. I guess that’s that. I stare at the phone, kind of unable to believe it. How could she just hang up on me like that? Especially since I haven’t been able to think about anything but her. Well, that’s not exactly true. There was that whole thing with my dad. But still. The point is, I’ve been thinking about her, missing her, wanting to talk to her. And she was just . . . I forget
what she said. At the
mall
. With her
friend
. Probably a
boy
friend.

“What are you doing down here?” Marina asks. She’s somehow lost her shirt and is now wearing just a bikini top. All of a sudden I’m very warm. Probably because I’ve had so much to drink.

“I was making a phone call,” I say, holding up my phone. “But now I’m done.”

“Good.” She leans into me. She smells very good. Like flowers mixed with baby powder and something else that only girls can smell like. A slight breeze blows her hair into my face, and she reaches up and pushes it back behind her ear.

“Hi,” she says, smiling at me. And the next thing I know, she’s kissing me. I pull back.

“What’s wrong?” she breathes into my ear. “Don’t you want to kiss me?”

I think about it. I don’t want to kiss Marina. I want to kiss Kelsey. Don’t I? My head is all cloudy now. Kelsey doesn’t want to kiss me. Kelsey is trying to blow me off. She’s not even answering her phone when she’s out, she’s . . . she’s rejecting me. I can’t even believe it. I never get rejected.

My drunk brain cannot wrap my mind around this. Or, I mean, my brain can’t wrap its . . . Fuck, I don’t know. All I know is that Marina is here and I’m drunk and I want more beer and she wants to kiss me.

But before I can figure out if I want to kiss her, or answer her, she’s moving her lips back toward mine. And then she’s kissing me. And there’s nothing to do but kiss her back.

Kelsey

I can’t sleep. I’m just lying here in bed thinking about Isaac. I was hoping he’d call me back. I hate the idea of him being at the beach with Marina. I hate the idea that he called to invite me, and that I didn’t answer just because of some stupid thing that happened at my old school with Rex. I hate that I’m awake thinking about it, that the exact thing I’d wanted to avoid—obsessing over Isaac—is happening.

At around two in the morning I give up and turn my light on, deciding to try to read. But I can’t find any books I’m interested in. The crazy thing about it is that my to-be-read pile is so high it’s about to fall over. But there’s nothing I want to read. The thing about me and books is that whichever one
I’m reading always reminds me of whatever’s happening in my life during that time.