I raise my brows. “Holden? Wow. Made it all the way over to the library?”
“Yes. And he heard it from Cathy Bryant—”
“Lee now. She got married last month, remember?”
“Who heard it from Harriet when she was spouting off about your decaying hussy’s soul in the market, who heard it from Terry, who saw the whole thing with his own eyes when he was making his morning newspaper rounds and caught sight of Will climbing out of your window!” Emily is fuming. She hates being the last to hear about anything concerning us siblings. I half expect to find a tracker planted on my person one day.
I would open my mouth to reveal the truth, but I know it’s no use. My sisters need to get their words out first, or they’ll combust. “Harriet said what about Annie?” says Maddie, her soft ivory skin turning a nice shade of reddish purple.
“Don’t worry, I already went by the market to give her a piece of my mind. But Mabel beat me to it. She was laying into Harriet when I walked in, so I just grabbed the dishwasher pods we needed, signed the petition, paid, and came home.”
My ears perk up. “I’m sorry—what petition?”
“You haven’t seen it? The town put together a petition to vote on your and Will’s relationship,” says Emily. “It’s actually way more extensive than the one they did for Paul and that woman he was dating for a while. This one has an entire facts list attached for why y’all aren’t well suited for a relationship.” Emily finally notices the dip and slides onto the stool beside me to dig in. I scoot the bowl a little closer to her.
“Wait, wait, wait. It’s a relationship now?” Maddie dives her hand through her hair. “My head is spinning. Are you telling me that you and Will are dating? You were too shy to talk to Hot Bank Teller, so you bypassed him and went straight for Sexy Bodyguard? I need all the details.”
My sisters stare at me expectantly. I know that this is the moment I should tell them the truth. I should burst out laughing and explain that Will is just my practice person. But for some reason, the words won’t come out. Because right now, my sisters are looking at me like I’m the opposite of boring. Like I’m maybe…fascinating. Like I’m not their sweet baby sister, and maybe there’s more to me than they realized.
And I’m not ready for that look to fade when I tell them I wasn’t too shy to talk to Hot Bank Teller, that he, in fact, thought I was too boring to date, so Will is just being kind and helping me.
And that’s why I lie.
“Yeah. It’s not a big deal,” I say, looking down to scoop another chip in an attempt at looking casual. “He came into the flower shop the other day, and we hit it off, and…now we’re…dating.” Oh gosh. What are you doing Annie? Will is never going to go for this. “It’s just casual, though. Could end any day really.”
“Casual?” Emily repeats with a quizzical frown.
“Uh-huh.”
“Annie,” Madison says, like she’s gently trying to tell me the people I’m seeing in the room aren’t really there. “You don’t do casual. You’re Monica in the episode of Friends where she reveals her wedding scrapbook. You and casual do not belong in the same sentence.”
“Well, we do now.” I tip a shoulder like it’s no big deal. But even I know that what I’m saying is a very big deal. It’s also untrue. I feel a tug of disappointment as I deny being true to myself, but I squash that feeling under my Converse sneakers because what has being true to myself gotten me besides blown off in the middle of a date?
My sisters look at each other—obviously freaked out by this deviation in character and uncertain how to continue.
“Huh,” Maddie says.
“So you and Will can…what? See other people?” asks Emily, testing me.
“Yep.”
“And you’re okay with that?”
I shrug. “Of course. The more the merrier!”
Nope. And I’m also a little worried at how the thought of Will （the man who is not my real boyfriend） dating anyone else sends a boiling surge of jealousy through my body.
Apparently, that was a bridge too far because Maddie and Emily share a look. One of the looks that always makes me feel so mad to be excluded from. The one that I can never understand the meaning of, but they seem to comprehend perfectly. How is it possible to share DNA with someone and still feel so “other” from them—and yet still love them with my whole heart? It’s too messy.