Page 47 of Head Over Skates

I lift a brow. “Oh?”

She sighs, gathering herself. “I wanted to apologize. For... judging you, when I didn’t really know anything about you.”

Well, this is unexpected. I fold my arms across my chest, waiting for her to continue.

“I made assumptions that were unfair,” she says. “Especially about your… romantic exploits.”

I have to bite my tongue to keep from laughing. My romantic exploits? If she only knew how few and far between those have been lately.

“So,” I say. “You’re interested in my romantic exploits, eh?”

“No. Not like that.” She smacks my arm. “Remember when you asked my why I hated you?”

“Very acutely.”

“And I told you?—”

“That you think I’m actually a charming devil.”

“Only the devil part.”

“Touché.”

“You see… my friend Jaime…”

“The girl at Tim Horton’s?” This is all starting to come together now. At the time, I was too preoccupied with Cyrus to give it much thought. But Emily was mad that day. Mad because she thought I was pretending not to know her friend.

“Yes. For the past year… Jaime had been making up stories.” She cringes, but forges through. “Specifically, that she was in a serious relationship with you… and that you’d cheated on her.”

I blink, tilting my head as I try to make out whether or not she’s joking.

“If this is a prank, it’s a pretty crappy one,” I say, keeping my tone neutral. I don’t take the subject of cheating lightly at all. Not after what my father did. Or, is probably still doing for all I know.

“It’s not a joke, I swear.”

She goes on to tell me a long, convoluted story about her unhinged friend, how she’d fabricated a whole history with me, bought herself presents, photoshopped my face in her pictures, and then made up a cheating scenario. Completely fooling Emily and that Maggie girl.

Once Emily finishes telling me the whole drama, I let out a slow whistle. “Wow. That Elvis faking his own death conspiracy has nothing on your girl, Jaime.”

“She’s not my girl. Not anymore.”

"I guess I should feel flattered that someone would go through all that trouble to pretend to date me," I joke.

Emily rolls her eyes, but I can see her trying not to smile. "Don't let it go to your head, Jablonski. She's clearly got more than a few screws loose."

"Maybe I should get a restraining order, just to be safe," I say, nudging Emily's shoulder playfully.

"Anyway… I just wanted to apologize for the whole… judging you thing," Emily says, "And for the nasty stuff I wrote in the blog."

I’m quiet for a moment, letting her apology sink in. This fiery little spitfire just admitted she was wrong about me, which I have to admit, feels pretty damn satisfying.

“Hmmm.” I tap my chin, letting her sweat it out for a minute. Her eye twitches, like she’s allergic to apologies.

“I said I’m sorry, Jablonski. I swear I will put more stickers on your locker…”

“Okay, okay. If you put it that way… apology accepted.”

She sniffs. “Good.”

---