9781250209153

The next day, I seek out Charlotte after school. I literally chase her down
the soccer field. I’ll be late for basketball practice, but Danielle will
understand.
It’s just the two of us standing near midfield. Her teammates aren’t out
of the changing rooms yet. Charlotte regards me, hands on her hips, almost
like she expected me to come find her. I take a deep breath and say my
piece.
“I want you to leave Irene alone,” I say without preamble. “Leave both
of us alone.”
Charlotte smirks, confident that she has the upper hand. “Or what?”
I shrug. “Or nothing. I have nothing to hold over you. I’m simply asking
you to stop. I get that losing her made you sad or bitter or whatever, but for
fuck’s sake, find a healthier way to cope.”
She stares at me like I’ve gone insane. Her laugh is mechanical. “Losing
her? I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
I stare at her. “Yes you do. You lost someone you loved, and you’re not
even sure what kind of love it was in the first place, so now you’re turning
into a manipulative narcissist who can’t stop craving Irene’s attention.”
Charlotte goes very, very still. “Whatever she told you, it’s bullshit.”
“It’s not.” She looks ready to pounce, so I raise my hands. “And before
you freak out, you should know that she told me in confidence and I’m not
going to tell anyone else. But I get it: You’re hurting. You’re acting like a
complete and utter asshole because you’re in pain. That’s not an excuse, but
still. I know how it feels to be in love with someone and to lose her, and
then make bad decisions because you miss her so much. I’ve been there. I
get it. But I thought you should know it doesn’t have to be that way.”
Charlotte blinks. “I don’t understand your angle here. You hurt her.
You’re no better than me.”
There’s the tiniest note of fragility in her voice. It nearly bowls me over.
I just stand there, trying to figure out how to answer her. She’s not wrong,
but we are not the same.