“I’m sorry,” he says, though the words don’t settle. Like water on leather.
I can’t stand the way he’s looking at me, expression full of anguish and something that closely resembles pity. I need to get off this roof. Stat.
“Char, wait—” Renner calls when I beeline it for the stairwell door.
Before he can finish, I’m gone.
THIRTY-THREE
I’ll admit, there’s a lot in this world that brings me displeasure. But running is somewhere at the top of that list.
There’s that spiking pain in my calves and shins that doesn’t go away for days. The fact that my lungs feel like they’re caving in on me. That I’m slower than a turtle so time feels like it stretches for eternity.
And trust me, I’ve tried to love it like everyone else （liars）。 Really, I have. When Kassie and Nori joined the cross-country team in ninth grade, I tried my hand at it too. Five minutes into a practice run around the block, I nearly keeled over on a random person’s lawn.
But tonight, I run.
I’ve sprinted at least ten blocks in my white Keds. Sure, I feel the burn. But the shin splints are nothing compared to the searing pain inside. After seventeen years, I’ve finally discovered the secret to running. Anger and turmoil.
Flashbacks of meeting Kassie for the first time catapult through my mind. We’re nine, laughing at the park, seeing how high we can go on the swings. Then we’re thirteen, feeling very adult at the mall with our Pinkberry frozen yogurt, unsupervised for the first time. We’re sixteen, driving around and around Maplewood, singing at the top of our lungs. Maybe the glue that held us together all these years is drying and crumbling. Part of me knows it’s true. I just don’t want to admit it.
I’m huffing and puffing as I tear down the road, only shifting over toward the ditch when headlights flood my vision.
I squint into the light as the car approaches, coming to a near full stop behind me. It’s only when my eyes adjust that I recognize the vehicle. Kassie’s white Prius.
She honks once, probably because I’m staring straight into her headlights, stunned. What the heck is Kassie doing here on the side of the road? She should be at the sleepover.
I head over to the passenger window and look in. Her expression is a little forlorn and skittish, like she’s bracing for me to ream her out. I don’t say anything, mostly because I’m still completely out of breath. And also, because I’m staring at her like she’s a mirage. She leans over and opens the door for me.
Silently, I slide into the passenger seat. She tosses a full bag of puffy Cheetos into my lap, a peace offering, before pulling back onto the road.
For the next two hours, we drive aimlessly through the side streets of Maplewood, scream-singing Olivia Rodrigo and Taylor Swift until our fingers are permanently orange and caked with Cheeto dust. It occurs to me as we head back toward my house that we haven’t had an actual conversation, aside from a brief rant about how she thinks turtlenecks are sexier than they get credit for.
While I can’t get on board with turtlenecks, I can’t help but laugh. It’s moments like this with Kassie that I’ve missed. Moments where we don’t have to say anything to each other. Moments where we’re not worrying about our impending futures or the next big school event. When all we care about is having fun. Living in the now.
Logically, I know I’ve let her off the hook too easily. Nori likes to remind me that this is our cycle. Kassie lets me down on the regular, then apologizes elaborately with some rom-com–style gesture. Like the time she ditched out last minute on spending the weekend in the city with Mom and me. She showed up the night I got back and threw snowballs at my window. And there are all those times that she’s called out of the blue and picked me up for an adventure in the middle of the night. Of course, it’s always on her terms.
The situation deserved to be talked out properly. But after everything that’s happened, I’m craving the familiarity and comfort of being with my best friend—even if it doesn’t feel right.
It’s also hard to stay mad at Kassie for long. She’s like a big-eyed puppy who chewed your passport into smithereens days before your international vacation, but you still can’t help but forgive her. She may be selfish. Incapable of considering how her actions affect other people. But I know deep down she has a big heart. She cares about me and our friendship.
Besides, being unwilling to forgive would mean holding my anger inside, letting it fester, and potentially fulfilling the future prophecy. While my patience with our friendship is waning, I could use Kassie’s wisdom right now. Especially after what happened with Renner earlier tonight.