Page 114 of The Puckable Playbook

Iz ignores her and comes to stand next to me. I swear she takes after her brother because she appears taller, more grown up with her don’t-fuck-with-me face. “It’s Miss James to you.”

“Excuse me?”

The evilest grin turns up the corners of Izzy’s mouth. “I’m waiting for the day when you’ve completely talked yourself into a corner and everyone finds out who you truly are so you end up being a maid in my mansion where I sit back and eat popcorn while watching you clean up after me. Every once in a while, I make it interesting by tossing down kernels right in front of your stupid face, watching you get angrier and angrier. But that only makes me laugh louder.”

Trish’s face scrunches up, but I sputter out a laugh. “That was oddly specific.”

“I’ve daydreamed about it for a long time.” She throws her arms over my shoulder like her brother does. “Have you met Len? Take a good look because this is what a real girlfriend looks like.”

Trish peers from me to Iz and back again. Her brain is turning. I can see it. Churning and churning. Imagine having to live your life looking for the next angle, the next move, because you couldn’t be your authentic self. I’m starting to feel bad for her.

Not that bad. Maybe just a micro-feeling. The smallest of sads, definitely not something you can see with the naked eye.

When I realize she doesn’t have anything to say to that, I wave to her. “Bye, Trish.”

That’s it. That’s everything. That’s what I can offer a so-called friend that I lived with for the better part of three years. The person I told my secrets to.

When she walks away, sadness creeps over me. It’s like saying goodbye to something, even if it all ended up a lie. Theonly good thing I can say about Trish right now is that she showed me what I won’t accept, and you know what? Maybe I should thank her for that.

Do I think she’s all bad? No. I think somewhere, things went wrong in her brain. I think deep down, she’s actually a very scared, insecure person, but she’s not ready to see that yet, and it’s not my responsibility to show her. I can cut that tether and be done with it, sending Trish to the barren desert of my brain where I keep everything else I’d rather not think about.

She sees Zaiah’s parents, and for a second, she stops. However, she must think better of approaching them because she keeps walking.

Good.

“Duuuuuuuude, what the puck?” Iz finally rants.

I turn toward her. “She just showed up. She threw her arms around Zaiah like they were still dating.”

“Ew. Oh.” Iz’s eyes go wide. “You know he hates her, right?”

I wave her worries away. “He pushed her away. It’s the audacity.”

“Let me guess, she saw all the stuff you did and decided to come check it out?”

“Not exactly. She went into territory I’m sure you’d rather not hear.”

The Jameses start walking toward us, so I wave.

“Like what?” Iz asks.

“You don’t want to know.”

“I’m dying to know, actually.”

“Okay… She came because she remembered your brother was a good—”

“Don’t say it.”

“Told you.”

“I swear, this friendship will only work if we never talk about your sex life with my brother. I will vomit.”

I laugh. “Trust me, I’m good with that.”

“Yikes,” Mrs. James says. “I hope that awful girl didn’t bother you.” She exchanges a look with Zaiah’s dad.

“Oh, her? I thought she was a street person. I gave her directions.”

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