Nobody in Particular(31)
And at this, I’m left speechless. Her words claw at my chest, squeezing and choking, until the center of me feels hollowed out. I knew Molly was furious with me—of course I did—but I thought, I really, truly supposed, that if I simply gave her the space she so obviously wanted, she would simmer down and we would discuss whatever was bothering her. It hadn’t occurred to me, not even for a moment, that the person I considered my best friend could hate me, sans hyperbole.
She hates me. Even right now, she can barely stand to look at me. And for a moment, I’m unraveling where I stand, thread by thread.
But only for a moment. Then I clench my fists, and my jaw, and take several steady breaths, until I feel the ground beneath my feet again. My heart rate slows, and the edges of the world stop blurring.
So, Molly hates me. It’s a loss, but I suppose it’s also her prerogative. Friendships fade, sometimes, don’t they? Often, even. We evolve, and we grow, and we form new attachments, and we let go of old ones. If Molly truly believes I’m that terrible—that unsalvageable—then what point is there in arguing back? She clearly doesn’t want an apology from me, and furthermore, very patently feels that whatever is defective in me runs so deep I can’t begin to remediate it.
So, what’s left?
“I understand,” I say, soft and measured. “Well, then. What should we do about our mutual friends? Can you bear to be around me, for them?”
She has that look again. Contempt. Disgust. She even shakes her head at me a little for emphasis.
If even this version of me, my most calm, measured, and rational self, is reprehensible to her, there is certainly no point in attempting to glue the shards of this back together.
“Danni was meant to be my friend,” she says, rather petulantly. “I met her first.”
I refuse to engage with that. When I simply wait, my eyebrows raised a little, Molly has the decency to look embarrassed with herself.
“I’ll think about it,” she says, and I’m struck by the sudden image of a separating couple dividing their assets. Who and what will we each inherit in the great divorce? Who will lay claim to our lunch table? Our second-row desks in the classroom? The thought is so ludicrous, it almost makes me giggle, and Molly frowns at my lightened expression.
“I have stuff to do,” she says in dismissal, and I realize with a start I’ve overstayed my tenuous-to-begin-with welcome.
I suppose it’s over, then. Just like that. A lifetime with her, done.
She doesn’t even glance up as I leave.
FOURTEEN
DANNI
RG
Rach
Do you ever stare at friends of yours for no reason?
Not on purpose.
Why?
So if you were accidentally staring and smiling And your friend caught you You wouldn’t keep looking at them anyway?
Um no
I don’t think so?
What if it was a guy you had a crush on?
I mean I wouldn’t because I’m shy but If my crush did that to me I’d start planning our wedding Huh.
Why are you still awake? Isn’t it 2am there?
Can’t sleep. Going to try again.
Night!
FIFTEEN
DANNI
I’m sitting in the back seat of the Kowalczyks’ Mercedes-Benz, wearing the soft-peach dress Mom bought me for my cousin’s wedding last year, freaking out so badly there’s a risk I’m going to puke all over it. We’re on our way to the palace for the queen’s birthday celebration, and there are multiple terrifying things waiting for me there. The king and queen of the country, for a start. Also, there’s the tunnel of photographers we have to walk through when we get there—something Eleanor’s spent half the car ride warning me about, so I know it’s gonna be bad.
But at least I’ll have Eleanor, and Rose. Especially Rose.
I’ve been doing some reading these past few weeks. I’ve learned a ton of stuff, too. For example, I found out that Henland was part of the British Empire up until the 1700s, when the country won independence and crowned Rose’s great-great … really great-grandparents king and queen. Which means Henland is a former colony, and never did any colonizing themselves, which I’ll admit makes me like Rose’s family more.
I run a hand down my tan leather seat and stare out of the tinted windows, watching the apartments and houses turn into estates as we get closer to the wealthy area of the city. I’ve seen pictures of the palace plenty of times while researching, but when it looms into view, it still blows my mind a little. The palace is a towering, cream-colored monster of a building with about a million huge arched windows and balconies, all illuminated with rich, glowing lights. And there’s a courtyard, too. Is there ever a courtyard. It’s sprawling, and massive, and absolutely teeming with people. It’s like a fully packed concert stadium out here.
“Do we have to walk past all those people?” I ask Eleanor, feeling my heart drop right down to my shoes.
“Nah, there’s a back entrance. They’re just here to see the royal family on the balcony.” She checks the time. “They’ve probably just done their appearance, actually.”
We join a line of very fancy cars that, I assume, are also making their way to the back entrance. Eleanor texts Rose that we’re almost there, then looks up at me and shoves her phone in her pocket. “Okay, time to brace for the photographers,” she says. “It’s only for a minute, while we’re in the foyer. They aren’t allowed in the party.”