Page 71 of Well, That Was Unexpected

“Hey, come on, it’ll be okay, whatever it is. You’ll figure it out, Shar. You’ve always been the smart one.”

I wince at the kindness in his voice. “I’m really not. Bradley, I’m so sorry. I fucked up.” And once the words are out, the tears start rolling down my face. I’ve been such an asshole. I’d been so smug the whole time we went out, acting like I was a lot smarter than he is, treating him like a himbo. “The truth is, you’re way smarter than I ever was,” I finally tell him. “You’ve always been so kind and so real. You never bothered with all that fake bullshit. And I am so sorry for breaking up with you so abruptly. That was such a shit move, and I don’t even know why—I just—I guess I was so ashamed about what happened—”

“I get it. It’s fine.” He pauses. “Um, to be honest, I’ve kind of moved on.”

“What?” I gasp. “I mean, I’m glad to hear that, but wow. Okay.”

“Yeah, I was really down at first, but after days of messaging you without any response, I had to learn to get over you. No offense, Shar.”

“No, of course, that’s—I mean, I’m happy for you.” And I mean it too. “Um, is there someone else in the picture?”

He gives a bashful laugh. “Kind of? You know Bryan?”

“Bryan Johnson? From AP physics?”

“Yeah?”

“Wow.” I hadn’t known Bradley was bi. I think of Bryan—atall Black guy two years my senior; annoyingly good at physics; moderately good at piano; kind smile. “That’s a…you guys make a great couple.” They really, really do. They’re both two of the kindest people at school.

Bradley laughs in that shy way again, and I wish I were there so I could give him a big hug. “So tell me about Indonesia,” he says. “Sounds intense.” He says this with such sincerity that I can’t help but laugh.

And somehow for that short second, everything isn’t quite as catastrophic as before. I take a deep inhale and release it. How does Bradley do it? How does he make every awful situation a bit less shitty? “I had no idea what to expect before I came here. Everything I knew about Indonesia has gone through a white lens. The BBC is always showing it like it’s this hell pit filled withrubble.”

“Let me guess: It’s not.”

“It’s definitely not,” I agree. “I’ve got so many pictures and videos to show you.” Then I realize that most people probably wouldn’t want to look through photos and videos with their exes. “Um, but I know you’re probably really busy, so—”

“What are you talking about? I’m dying to see them! We’ll hang out when you come back and you can show me in person.”

“Okay, and you can tell me all about Bryan.”

“Deal.”

I smile at this, but as soon as we end the call, I feel the smile slip off my face. I’m glad that I’ve finally resolved things with Bradley, but that doesn’t cancel out the public humiliation I’ve just gone through. The weight of it bears down on my shoulders, and I don’t know how I’ll ever be able to lift my head high again.

The rest of the night passes by in a blur. Mama takes away my phone again because it was blowing up with all sorts of messages and notifications of news stories about me. This time, I surrender it without a fight; I’m actually grateful that she’s taking it away. I find its proximity suffocating, its presence radiating poison. Mama and Kiki push the queen beds to become one giant bed and the three of us sleep in it. Even though I know there’s a hurricane of badness whirling and throwing shit everywhere, I spend the rest of the night wrapped up like a burrito under the fluffy duvet, with Kiki on my left and Mama on my right, and Ifeel okay-ish. We trade stories about everything and nothing. At some point, way past midnight, I doze off.

In the middle of the night, I wake up with a thunderstorm raging in my chest. Too many thoughts swirling and crashing through my head. I need to do something, but I don’t know what. I slip out of bed as quietly as I can, careful not to wake Mama and Kiki, and pad out into the living room. I make myself a cup of chamomile tea and settle down on the couch. I gaze out the window at the night sky, sipping at my hot drink. I think of everything that’s just happened, about how I’ve been “disgraced” and what that means to me. It hits me that Mama must have gone through something similar. And suddenly, I know what I want to do.

I pick up my tablet from my bag and open up a new page. Then I start drawing. I draw until I’m so exhausted that I can’t keep my eyes from closing and I put my tablet back in my bag and slip back into bed.

I awake to the sound of shoes clattering across the floor, which is somewhat startling given we’re not in the habit of wearing shoes inside the villa. I blink against the bright sunlight streaming through the open curtains and see Kiki coming in, carrying a steaming cup of coffee.

“Here you go,” she chirps, handing me the cup. She’s all dressed and ready to go. Go where?

I scratch my hair and yawn. Mama is no longer in bed, but I can hear her voice through the half-closed door. “What’s goingon?”

“My parents managed to get us on the earliest flight out of here. Plane leaves in two hours. I’ve packed all your stuff up. Youjust need to take a shower and get dressed and we can leave here before anybody knows.”

It all comes back to me in a rush. Rina’s betrayal. My relationship with Bradley on the big screen. The mess that followed. My breath wheezes out in an asthmatic whistle. “Oh god.”

Kiki’s suddenly by my side, her arms tight around me. “It’ll be fine, Shar. You’re okay. You’re fine. Breathe. Take a deep breath and release.”

I do as she says and slowly the room stops spinning. “Thank you.” Another thought strikes me. “George—”

“Um, yeah. He’s been calling a lot, but we weren’t sure if you were up for it.”

My heart twists like a towel that’s being wrung to dry at the thought of George calling endlessly, only to be ignored. “Is he okay? I should talk to him, I should explain—”

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