Page 28 of Something Like Sunflowers

“Lemon?” I don’t mean to sound mortified, but I’m taken aback. The last person I thought I’d run into today was my childhood nemesis serving me food. Wasn’t an ex-boyfriend enough for one week?

“Hey, Devyn!” Lemon says, much too cheerily for being, well, Lemon. It’s not normal.

I clear my throat. It’s just Lemon, I remind myself. I’ll deal with her, and then get back to why Shana is being weird.

“It’s good to see you,” I force out.

I eyeball Shana awkwardly, but she’s just smiling brightly like this isn’t super uncomfortable. What the heck? I turn back to the strangely welcoming Stepford Lemon and clear my throat again. “We’ll just take water, thanks.”

I smile and turn back to Shana, effectively dismissing Lemon.

Or so I think.

But she doesn’t leave. She and Shana share a wide-eyed look before they both burst out laughing, and then Shana scoots over for Lemon to—sit.

With us.

I’ll wait. Surely, they will explain their…closeness.

But they just stare at me and smile. They smile like they’re—

“You two are friends now, aren’t you?” But I already know. I moved away, and I was replaced. By Lemon Perkins.

And Shana doesn’t know how to tell me.

First Hunter, now Shana.

Lemon probably lives in the spare room and that’s why I can’t stay. My skin prickles and my fingers toy with my wrist to find the hair-tie I know will be there. The one I put there for purposes like this. I find it and pluck, the sting that usually calms me doing quite the opposite right now. It spurs me on.

“You could have just said something on the phone when we were talking, you know?” I spit out, before I can remind myself of Step One of the Bitch Program—not saying everything I think right when I think it. “You didn’t have to lie to me. I thought something horrible happened.”

I suck in a quick breath, trying to calm myself down, but failing, my mind spinning circles of words around on a wheel that only seems to grow larger with time and never ceases to slow down. Words like unworthy, fake, bad friend, bitch.

I swallow, my eyes swerving between the two of them and landing on Shana like a dart. Meant to pierce.

“You sounded like you were going to cry on the phone, Shay. And I was all worried about you. You made it seem like someone was dying.” Shana’s face sours, and Lemon’s eyes widen, shifting back and forth between us, as if she’s concerned.

I’m aware, as my tear ducts burn with promise, that much of my anger is laced with emotions entirely unrelated to Shana and Lemon and more assuredly stemming from my dealings with Hunter, my learning of Clara’s passing just another pin in the cushion. I wipe my hand across my eyes, hiding any evidence of imperfection.

And right now, the hair-tie and the other stupid tricks are not enough. I should stop myself before I say something I shouldn’t, but I’m a fully-fledged bitch, remember?

“I was so worried about this mystery of yours, and here you were just afraid to tell me you have a new best friend. Or maybe roomie?”

Who also happens to be the worst, most evil version of myself. Someone who made life a lot harder than it needed to be when we were younger.

Shana knows all about my issues with Lemon, too.

That’s what hurts most. How could she?

She furrows her brow, like she’s disappointed in me. Maybe I deserve it, but I don’t know. I’m too sad to know. I don’t have a place here, any more than I did in the city.

I breathe through it because no matter what, there’s nothing I can’t handle. Strong women don’t give up. That’s what Miss Clara used to tell us girls. If I’m going to have a change, I must make the change myself. I wipe the tears from my cheeks and stomp away before I can say more bitchy things. Before I’m too close to them to hide my feelings. I really am trying to be a better person, despite how I behave when emotions take over.

“Devyn, you don’t understand. It’s not even about Lemon. You’re being dramatic,” Shana shouts. She keeps going on, something about me never listening and always making everything about myself, but I can’t hear her over the pounding in my ears. I’m so angry, but it’s not even at Shana.

It’s at myself. I’m so fucking sorry for myself, and I hate it.

What right do I have to feel sorry for myself?

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