Page 73 of The Pawn

The Holly I imagined ranted. Yelled. Kicked me out of our room, out of the Rosalinds, and no longer considered me a friend. She joined Cole in his taunting pranks and bullying. She stood over me after the fall from the rock climbing wall, a sneer on her face, her shiny dark hair like a curtain behind her.

The real Holly is looking at me right now, not in anger or resentment or superiority. Because the real Holly isn't angry.

She's betrayed.

There are tears in the corners of her eyes. A frown that wrinkles her forehead. Bitterness to her lips, which quiver with sadness.

I find that I can't lie to the real Holly.

Because unlike the version of her I imagined when I handed over her credit card and charged everything to her name, therealHolly is a good person. A true, loyal friend. One who deserved better than me.

"Why?" she asks, a tremble in her voice.

I can't seem to tell her anything but the truth. "Because you could afford it, and I couldn't."

"Oh." She takes me in, her eyes looking at me from so close that I can see every shade of green in her irises. "If you had asked, I would have said yes."

Then she hands the credit card back.

I take it in numb fingers, every emotion drained out of me, so cold I find myself wishing for the fire from before. There's nothing in me now but fear—and regret.

Holly gets to her feet and turns to leave.

I scramble up after her, grabbing as much of my stuff off the ground as possible and dropping it into my purse. The credit card I shove into the front pocket, wincing at the feeling of it in my hand, its numbers already rubbed off slightly on one end from me handling it so many times, staring down at her name and wondering why she was born in one life and I was born in another.

"Holly, wait."

She doesn't slow down. Her long legs and her muscular calves take her down the path quickly. I know I should turn around, let her go and cool off elsewhere, but the panic in my chest won't let me do anything but chase her down and grab her shoulder to stop her from leaving me behind. "Holly, I can explain."

"Can you, Brenna?" She whirls on me, eyes flashing, hands tightened into fists. "Somehow I fucking doubt that you can."

People are watching us, turning away from their private make out corners, heads swiveling like witnesses of a car crash.

I should stop this now before it becomes more public. Before everyone knows. I should...

"Well? I'm waiting." Holly lifts her chin. The tears in her eyes roll down her cheeks. "Tell me why you stole from me."

Her voice is loud enough that people hear.

Tomorrow, this is all anyone will be talking about—unless, of course, something bigger happens. But it would have to be pretty damn big to eclipse this.

She's expecting an answer. Again, all I have is the truth. "I didn't think you would notice."

Her head rears back like she's been slapped. Wiping the tears off her face, she advances on me, and I cower back. Holly, unlike Blake, I can't seem to face—because when I look at her I see the truth of myself reflected back.

It's as if there are a thousand snakes beneath me, twining around my feet, squeezing the air out of my chest, coiling like a rope around my neck. A voice whispers:you'll hang just like your brother.

For a moment, Holly's face blurs through the tears gathering in my eyes, and I can't tell if I'm looking at her or at the face I used to see in the mirror, twisted in unfathomable anger and hate.

Fear takes over me, makes me shiver.

"Holly, don't—"

"Don't what, Brenna?" she snaps at me. "What do you think I'm going to do—hit you? Hurt you? Play dirty little pranks on you?"

"No," I answer honestly, as the crowd around us goes quiet, as I step back so much that I feel the wooden basin behind me and have to stop. "I didn't say that."

"Good. Because I don't like you looking at me like you'reafraid, Brenna." Her voice is calm and even. Despite the clear anger in her, Holly is measured and in control, rational and incapable of doing what I do: giving in to the darkness. "I won't be the bully you must imagine me to be—because that's why you stole from me, isn't it? You think you deserve what I have. You think it should beyours.Like you're some kind of Robin Hood. Like it wasjustice."

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