My mouth snaps shut. Because George had said that he likes the real me too. But I just can’t let go of the fact that he also liked Mama’s version. Ugh, it’s all so confusing. And it doesn’t matter which version he likes anyway. If he ever finds out the truth, he’ll hate me. All of me.

“Actually, that’s not the worst part,” I add. “The worst part is that I like him. I like this George, the one I spent the whole of today with, the one who laughed when we saw some kid shittingin the Ayung River, the one who snuck away in the monkey forest.”

“Wait, go back,” Kiki says. “You saw some kid shitting in the river? The river we were just rafting in?”

“That’s your takeaway from all this?”

She shudders. “You know how much river water I swallowed?”

“Same.”

“Oh god.” She shudders again. “And George found it funny?”

I nod. “We were laughing so hard about it.” I sigh. “He’s so different from all his chat messages. I really thought I was going to hate him, that I had no skin in the game, you know? I thought I’d meet up with him, be bored out of my mind, and then go home. And even after we got invited to Bali, I just thought I’d put up with him for the weekend and then go home and forget all about him. I never thought I was in any danger of falling for him—” I clap my hands over my mouth with a gasp.

Kiki’s staring at me, her mouth open. “Did you just say ‘falling for him’?”

“No?”

“Yes, you did.”

“No, I meant, like, falling as in a crush, sort of thing.”

“Right, because that’s what people mean when they say falling for someone.” Kiki frowns at me. “Are you going to be okay? I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

I quirk the corner of my mouth at her. “That’s really nice of you to say.”

“You’d be so unbearable, can you even imagine?” she says, then laughs when I throw my snot-filled tissue at her. “But really,Shar, I’m sorry about all of this. I never thought it would be like this either. When I read those chat messages between George and your mum…I mean, yeah, he sounded like such a basic bitch.”

“Right? From his messages, he seemed like he would totally be the kind of asshole who narcs on his classmates if they, like, I don’t know, wore their uniforms wrong or something.”

Kiki laughs, nodding. “Totally.” Then she leans forward. “So what are you gonna do?”

I shrug. “What is there to do? I just have to keep going, just survive this weekend and then go home and forget about everything.”

“What?” she cries. “No way! You can’t do that!”

“Why not? Plus, did you forget that I’m only here for the summer? I’ll be gone in six weeks, and who knows when I’ll be coming back here, if ever?”

Kiki stares at me. “Don’t say that. I hate the thought that I might never see you again.”

That stops me short. I didn’t even think of that, which makes me feel guilty as hell. But isn’t that exactly what I’ve been doing my whole life? It’s my knee-jerk reaction whenever things get tough—I run. Just like my mom, I guess. When things get too real, the walls come slamming down and off she goes, sprinting away as fast as she can from her problems. The realization that I’m guilty of the exact same thing that I’ve judged Mama so harshly for is sobering. And here I am, wanting to run away again, go back to LA and forget that all of this ever happened. Disappear from George’s life for good. Take zero responsibilityfor my own mistakes. The same thing I did to Bradley—cut him off, ghosted him, pretended there never was an us. I’m no better than Mama.

Guilt makes my voice thick as I say, “Yeah, I do too.” And I mean it, truly. “We’ll see each other again for sure. I’ll make my mom bring me here again next summer.”

“I could come visit over Christmas, maybe?” Kiki says, suddenly looking shy. “We could go to Disneyland, watch the Christmas fireworks.”

“I would love that. You could meet Michie. You’d love her.” Or maybe they’d hate each other and tear out each other’s throats, that’s also a very likely possibility. I remember Bradley, and the twinge of guilt twinges harder. Bradley would like Kiki. He likes everybody. He’s too good for me, I see that now. Sure, I realize that besides being extremely attracted to him, we didn’t have that much in common, but I still owe him at least the courtesy of telling him I’m fine instead of just disappearing completely from his life. He’s been nothing but decent toward me. After this weekend, when all the madness has died down, I will message him and apologize for having been such a jerk.

“Okay, so now that we’re both agreed that you and I are okay and that we’ll definitely see each other again, what about youand George? I don’t think that burying your head in the sand and planning on not seeing him ever again is wise.”

“Why not?”

“Because you like him. And he likes you too, it’s so obvious, Shar. It’s really gross, the way you two looked at each other this entire day. Like you’re barely restraining yourselves fromjumping each other. Ugh. I felt really bad for Eleanor. It must’ve been hard for her to witness that.”

“We were not!”

“Trust me, I know lovey-dovey eyes when I see them. And the look that George was giving you? Textbook. He likes you. The you in person. The real you. I mean, sure, maybe he likes the fake you too, but who cares? You guys are hitting it off in person, so that trumps the online stuff, right?”