“As they should,” Augusta said. “But Sadie, as I believe she was just telling you, is not the person who bullied me.”
We all just stared at Augusta in mute astonishment.
“The person who bullied me,” Augusta went on, “was Parker.”
“Parker!” Lucinda said, as if Augusta had just said “Taylor Swift.”
“Oh, yeah,” Augusta went on. “That whole year. She left notes in my locker. She picked on my clothes. She told me I was ugly, and no one would ever love me, and I should just give up. Daily. Hourly, sometimes. Hooooo-boy—she was vicious.”
Lucinda took a stunned step back.
“Sadie was always super nice,” Augusta said, nodding at me approvingly. “In fact, she’s still nice.”
Then Augusta walked closer to me and handed over a little bundle. “Here’s your dress back,” she said.
I looked down. “My dress?”
“Your ruffle dress,” she said, just as I saw the polka-dot fabric.
I put it together. “You’re the coffee girl? That was you?”
“You didn’t recognize me that day,” Augusta said. “I’ve changed a lot.”
Hadn’t we all?
“But I recognized you,” she went on. “I was just coming over to say hi when Parker knocked me down. And then you were helping me up and giving me your dress. Sweet as ever. I thought about saying something then, but I was so late. I googled you later to find a way to bring your dress back, and I saw the notice about the art show.”
“Did you make it to the airport?” I asked.
Augusta nodded and held up a sparkly engagement ring. “I did.” Then she turned back to my dad and Lucinda. “I was going to write you a letter to set things straight. And I really just came here tonight to say hi to Sadie and support her show. But then I wound up eavesdropping … and I couldn’t resist jumping in.”
Augusta turned back to me. “Parker framed you for it, huh?”
I nodded. “They kicked me out of school.”
“I’m so sorry,” Augusta said. “I had no idea. After we left, my parents shielded me from every single thing related to this place.”
“Understandably,” I said.
“Anyway,” Augusta said, turning back with false brightness to the slack-jawed pair of my father and Lucinda. “I couldn’t help but overhear Sadie saying that you never believe her. But here’s a little pro tip from somebody who knows both of your daughters pretty well. If you have a choice between Parker and Sadie? Pick Sadie—every time.”
Twenty-Seven
WAS IT A big cathartic moment when my family realized they’d been wrong all along only to burst into tears of regret and beg me for forgiveness?
Uh, no.
We never even got to see Parker’s reaction because when we looked over, she had taken off—slipped her disgraced and guilty self off into the night before ever having to own up to anything.
And then Lucinda promptly got the vapors and asked my dad to take her home. I wound up stuck outside my own art show holding up the near-to-fainting Lucinda as we waited for my dad to bring the car around.
There were no apologies. There was no Greek chorus of remorse.
But did it feel nice to have my name cleared at last?
It did. Too little and way too late—but nice, all the same.
Plus, I got my favorite polka-dot wrap dress back.
And in fact, Augusta had barely left to go into the show when Mr. and Mrs. Kim showed up with the most enormous, elegant, fuchsia-colored potted orchid I’d ever seen. Mrs. Kim wanted to hand it to me, but my arms were busy holding up my evil stepmother, so she wound up setting it lovingly at my feet.
“What’s wrong with Martha Stewart?” Mr. Kim asked.
“It’s a long story.”
“Shouldn’t you be inside?” Mrs. Kim asked.
“That’s an even longer story.”
“You’ve worked hard,” Mrs. Kim said.
“We are very proud of you,” Mr. Kim said.
“You don’t have to go in,” I said to them. “Just coming by is more than enough.”
But Mr. Kim shook his head. “We want you to win.”
“I have no hope of winning,” I said.
“We’ll see about that,” Mr. Kim said, and they went in anyway.
My father showed up with the car then, and I thought that would be it: car doors slamming, red taillights in the sudden distance, me left standing on the sidewalk alone. But to my dad’s credit, after he helped Lucinda get settled in the passenger seat, he turned back to me and lingered for a minute—offering a little moment of closure.