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“Can you believe that?” Jessie asked. “I didn’t even mean her, but if the boot fits, right?”
“I never flirted with Smithy,” I said. “I don’t think Lissa did, either, for what it’s worth.”
“Then why act that way?” she asked, gesturing toward the hallway where Lissa had disappeared.
“Don’t you get it?” I asked. “Everyone is on edge around you all the time because you are constantly saying something negative to someone. Nobody likes talking to you, Jessie. We are all sitting on pins and needles at every second, waiting for you to be hurtful or rude!”
“That’s not true,” Jessie said. “You know me better than anyone, Heather. You know I’m a nice person. I don’t mean to hurt anyone. I’m just too blunt, maybe.”
“No,” I said. “You can’t use that as an excuse. Don’t play it off like a personality quirk when it’s something you could very easily stop doing. And yes, you do go out of your way to be hurtful.”
“When?” Jessie asked. “Name one time.”
I couldn’t help but laugh.
“Yesterday!” I said. “You were downright hateful in the kitchen! Those people didn’t deserve for you to talk about them like that. You said I was “slumming” by being around them! Are you serious?”
“Well, you’re not that type of person!” Jessie argued. “You come from a better background. That’s all I meant. You paid to come on this trip, and what you paid is paying them a salary to serve you. You shouldn’t have been in that kitchen working. It’s not what you’re here to do. It’s what they’re here to do.”
“I’m here to have fun,” I said. “I was having fun with them. I’m here to meet new people and experience new things, and I was doing that with them!”
Jessie laughed. “You can experience working in your own kitchen at home, Heather,” she said.
I couldn’t stop myself. I was too angry to mince words.
“I can experience sweeping and cleaning in my own kitchen, sure. But I can’t experience meeting interesting, quality people in my own kitchen because the only person who ever comes over and spends time in my kitchen is you!”
Jessie’s mouth gaped open in shock, then her expression softened into one that seemed pained. She started to cry, then she stormed off to her cabin, leaving me alone at the table.
I wanted to feel guilty about it. I wanted to go after her and apologize and tell her how sorry I was for saying something so hurtful—but only because I’d always been the bigger person. No part of me actually wanted to follow her, make sure she was okay.
As I stood up to chase after her, though, there came a ringing from my purse.
Signal was back.
I dug through my purse and found my phone. Forty-six missed text messages from Mom and the number was rising. Ninety-nine plus Facebook notifications.
Three missed calls from Joseph.
And it was Joseph calling me right then.
I hesitated to answer, but ultimately decided I needed to hear a familiar voice, even if it wasn’t the one I wanted to hear most.
“Hello,” I answered, somewhat hesitant.
“Hey,” he said.
“What’s up?” I asked. Even I could hear the pause in my own voice. I wasn’t sure why he had called.
“I’m not going to beat around the bush here,” he said. “Your mom called me. She wanted me to talk to you. You know she’s freaking out about this New York thing. Are you really not going?”
I sighed. It made perfect sense for my mother to think a man could persuade me. She was clueless.
“I’m really not going,” I said. “I don’t want the fashion line. I hate it. I want to do something else with my life.”
“Like what?” he asked. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying you should do it. You’ve always hated it. But what changed? This isn’t the Heather I know.”
“The Heather you knew let people walk all over her,” I said. “I’ve been thinking a lot lately about what I really want out of life, you know. I let my mom tell me what to do. I let Jessie tell me what to do. I never really decide anything for myself.”
