Page 92 of Perfect on Paper

“Yeah, but she might say she doesn’t want anything to do with me.”

“She won’t.”

“Shemight.”

“Okay, I’m gonna play devil’s advocate with you. Let’s say she does. Then what?”

I mean, really. What the hell kind of question was that? “Then I’ll have lost the best friend I ever had. Do you not see how that could be devastating?”

“Sure, but she’s not your only friend. The important thing is that you respect her enough to give her a proper apology. Whether or not she forgives you is less important. All I’m saying is,” she added hastily as I opened my mouth to protest, “let’s say she isn’t ready quite yet. That’s okay. This apology isn’taboutyou. And if you do lose her, which I don’t think you will, you’ll survive this. It’s not like you’re relying on this girl for a lung transplant or anything, right?”

She’d had me right up until the end, then she’d lost me. “Way to minimize my pain here, Mom!”

“I’m just putting things in perspective.”

“Really? Because it feels kind of like you’re saying to suck it up, it’s not that bad.”

Mom stopped pretending to be on her laptop. “Honey, I don’t mean that at all. Friendship breakups are worse than romantic ones. I know it’s scary. I just don’t want you to terrify yourself into isolation because you’re worried you’ll get rejected if you reach out.”

I flipped my phone over and over between my hands. Itwas like having a solid representation of how my stomach must look right now. “She’s not just my best friend, Mom, she’s myonlyfriend at school. I’m friendly with other kids but she’s myfriend, you know? I put all my eggs in one basket then I smashed the basket against a brick wall.”

“Oh,Darc—”

“Anddon’ttell me I can make other friends easily because I have a ‘great personality,’ okay?”

“Well, actually, I wasn’t going to, although I don’t like you saying you have a ‘great personality’ like it’s a lie, okay? I don’t take kindly toward you being criticized, even if you’re the one doing it. I wasgoingto say I saw you in the cafeteria today.” Oh,ew,I hated hearing about her seeing me around the school. It always made me feel like I was being watched from the shadows. “You seemed to be having fun with Finn and Alexander. Don’t they count as friends?”

Well, yes, but no, but… I mean, kind of. My first instinct was to say it wasn’t the same as Brooke, and I was right, it wasn’t. Neither of them knew my most embarrassing moments, or my guiltiest pleasures, or which people annoyed me so much I gagged at the sight of them in the hallways. If I wanted someone to stay up with me until three in the morning eating junk food and watching YouTube videos, I wouldn’t call Finn or Brougham. We didn’t have that level of intimacy. And that’s what a best friend was. An incredibly intimate thing.

But maybe Mom had a point. Just because they weren’tbest friendmaterial didn’t mean I should discount them altogether. In fact, now that she mentioned it, it was a little funny they hadn’t popped into my head when I thought about my friends. Even Brougham.

“Alexander definitely considers you one,” Mom went on. “That boy spent half the day petitioning Stan to reverse your suspension Friday. He didn’t leave after lunch to get ready for prom with the other seniors. Nancy said she practically had to remove him by his collar.”

To say I was gobsmacked would be an understatement here. What was she talking about, and why was this the very first I’d heard of any of this? “Why didn’t you tell me that?”

“Well, I was on the trip already, I didn’t see any of this go down myself. But they were talking about it in the staff room today.” Mom straightened, smiling to herself. “I have to be honest, it won him a few brownie points as far as I’m concerned. Not many kids would stand up to Stan.”

Well.

Huh.

I made a mental note to bring this up with Brougham the next chance I had. Why hadn’t he told me he’d done that? We’d spent practically the whole day together Saturday, and he hadn’t thought to mention he’d fought my case to the principal?

Add that to today’s story about Brougham punching—punching!—someone at a party over the locker? Well, people always wrote in to the locker asking about mixed messages, and I gave the same approximate answer every time. Mixed messages don’t exist: they’re telling you the truth clearly through their actions, and you’re either believing their honeyed words like a lovesick fool, or placing too much weight on the odd inconsistent action. But maybe I’d have to eat my words, because there was nothing clear about Brougham’s behavior. Not when he was apparently still happy with Winona.

“Are you calling this girl or what?” Mom asked, snapping me back to the present.

“No,” I said. Everything was too confusing and scary and overwhelming right now. A phone call was too much to stack on top of all that. “No, I’m going to text her.”

“Don’t you dare! A text isnotan appropriate apology, Darcy.”

But I ignored her, because it had just occurred to me that as awkward as I found a phone call, Brooke would probably find it even worse. Put her on the spot and demand a response that instant, or else sit in an uncomfortable, lengthening silence? No,thatwas a rude, emotionally laden demand on someone. A text was actually more polite. It would let her know, plainly and confusion free, where I was coming from, then she’d be free to process it and respond in her own time. Or, not at all, if that’s where she was at.

“Your generation is sorude,” Mom complained as I composed the text.“Darcy.”

Hey, so, I was gonna call but I felt weird about it. I’ll call if you want me to, I’m not trying to take the easy way out, but I thought I’d rather not put you on the spot. I wanted to say I’m really, really sorry. I was so so so in the wrong with Jaz, and I was in the wrong with Ray. I told myself I was telling you because I cared about you and wanted to keep yousafe. But actually I wanted to have you back to myself. So I fucked everything up for you. I regret it more than anything, and if there’s anything I can do to make it better, I will. I understand if that’s not good enough for you, and you don’t have to reply if you don’t want to, but please know I am sorry. I won’t ever do anything like this again. Also, I miss you. A lot.

Send.

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