Page 15 of The Rebel
“Dear Scott, you are a lot, you’re so hot...” I teased in a squeaky sing-song vocal.
Gabby thumped me in the arm and reprimanded me with a hushed, “Valencia!”
“Well, don’t you think he is?” I coughed again, almost choking on my own words. And I had to ask, had to know. “Uh...when did you realize you liked him?”
Gabby’s cheeks turned a bright shade of red, such that if I reached out and touched them I was afraid I’d burn my finger. She looked down at the floor.
Intrigued, I prompted, “Gabby?”
“Well,” Gabby let out a long breath and lowered her voice as another customer perused the card stand. “You know the Light Festival?” I nodded, the Light Festival that I’d missed because of our vacation. “Well, I happened to see him there. He was with his brother and I was with Bryson, and he lifted Bryson onto his shoulders so he could see better and...that’s how it started.”
I smiled—or rather my lips pressed together and tried to form a curve. Why didn’t I have a little six-year-old brother? “That sounds...adorable,” I said.
“I know,” Gabby beamed. “But I didn’t really think anything about it. But he later texted and asked if I’d be interested in joining a band with him and Jonathan, and then it was at my party that we talked more.”
“Oh,” I said, my curiosity piqued, my voice shaky as I feared the truth. “Is that when you fell for him?”
Gabby’s eyes danced. “I mean, he’s always been cute, right?”
I nodded and tried to sound casual. “Yeah, cute.” For sure, he was eye-candy with his floppy blonde hair and hazel eyes that lit up, but agreeing too enthusiastically would be weird.
“But I never thought helikedme,” Gabby swooned, her fingers curling as she demonstrated air quotes.
“I guess you have a lot in common,” I said, conceding that Gabby and Scott actually were a perfect match, “like your music.”
“Yeah. He’s focused on his music and is aiming to get into the state orchestra and he’s into reducing his carbon footprint too. And he volunteers at the youth center in River Valley, helping with music. He plays drums too, you know.”
I didn’t know. And it was like all the air being punched out of me—Scott didn’t have a thing for me, and his hand holdinghadbeen totally platonic, a gesture of friendship. And I’d been a fool for dreaming it could have been something more. Talk about the sting of unrequited love.
My throat tightened and I cleared it with a cough.
“Are you getting a cold?” Gabby asked with concern.
I shook my head, my heart wobbling with sadness, but I couldn’t show it. I had to pretend everything was all right.
“Hey, this one’s cute,” I said, taking a card from the rack and holding it up. I had to be happy for my bestie—that’s what good friends did.
I paid for my pencils while Gabby spent a bit more time choosing a card, and then we went down the street to the cafe.Scott was already sitting at a table and from the way he jumped up, she’d always intended for him to meet us. For some reason that made my heart sink—I’d stupidly believed it was just the two of us hanging out.
“Hey, Valencia,” Scott said, meeting us at the counter.
“Hey.” I tried to shove down the disappointment that my role of third wheel was starting already.
“Gabby, do you want a mocha? Vali, what do you want?” Gah, Scott knew her favorite drink already.
“It’s okay, I can get my own,” I said, falling into the line behind him. I couldn’t have my best friend’s boyfriend buying me a coffee.
I watched as his hand lightly touched Gabby’s back, hit by a pang of regret, that stab of grief over something that would never be. Yet the feeling was somehow painfully familiar. And then it struck me—it was like dropping out of competitive tennis and knowing that those tournament wins, those trophies, the praise from Mom and Dad would never be mine.
And that moment was like a wipeout, like that time I’d been surfing in California, being sucked under the waves, helpless beneath the water until the ocean released you to the surface.
I was in the same situation now—drowning, but I was the only one who could save me. Life was a series of disappointments. That’s what I remembered Coach Gardiner telling me back when I went on my losing streak. It’s how you reacted, how you picked yourself up that made the difference, he’d shouted at me, because Coach was used to talking in a loud voice from the other end of the court. When I lost a match, I’d get fiery and mad, get down on myself and have acouldn’t-care-lessattitude, giving up, lacking in mental fortitude.
Right now, I had to be like Paris, he who had a winner’s mindset, who hated losing with a passion. I had to be strong, move on and accept that Gabby and Scott were together, evenif it was about to break me. Otherwise I risked losing my best friend, maybe my whole friend group—and that would be worse.
“Ah, do you two want something to eat, a cupcake or panini?” I asked, trying to keep myself relevant—and calm. “They kinda look good.”
“Vali, I’m going to make brownies as soon as we get home,” Gabby scolded. “Remember?"
