Below the instructions is a checkmark indicating that I’ve fulfilled my duty for the week by posting. My heart is hammering as I read what I wrote, because the power of my new role is suddenly overwhelming.People are going to know how I talk. They’ll guess it’s me,I thought.Unless I hide behind the way the old Little Birdie talked.
The crazy part is that I hardly had to try. At first, I was worried I wouldn’t be able to sound like the old Little Birdie, but the narrative voice of the gossiper was easy enough to replicate. Thanks to all the times me and my friends have been mentioned, I’ve read plenty of posts. When the blank screen first appeared, all it said was:
What should I tell everyone about?
So, I wrote out what happened at Dot’s party, and the rest of the details came spilling out in Little Birdie’s voice as I entered them. It was actually kind of…fun. In a creative way, of course.
And there’s a bonus silver lining to me being chosen as Little Birdie. I can decide to only use this new role for good. I can use it to show Meredith I’m over Carlton. And this time, it won’t be a lie. After what he said about me, I can’t imagine ever trusting him again.
What I didn’t expect is the opportunity I now have, thanks to Ezra being mentioned. Now that everyone suspects he’s my boyfriend, I could technically use it to my advantage.
But to do that would mean pretending to be with him.
I can barely stomach the thought of him. How in the world will I tolerate things like hugging, hand-holding, and…
No.
Not kissing.
That’s where I’d have to draw the line if I were to go along with this.
With shaking hands, I lower my phone from my face and try to keep the nerves from my expression. It was bad enough having Mom question me about Ezra’s letterman jacket I carried inside. It would be worse for her to question the latest Fallbrook drama because I’m a terrible liar and would be forced to tell her everything. It’s a miracle she doesn’t already know, because Chanel Sullivan prides herself on her keen intuition. She’s told me many times.
My phone blows up with individual text messages, since our group chat got abandoned when Meredith stopped talking to me.
Dot
Did you see it? Oh, Rue. I’m so sorry…are you really dating Ezra?
Mabel
What happened at Dot’s party? I missed everything because I was in the bathroom!
Carlton
Hey, don’t let it get you down. It will be okay <3
Guilt slices through me as my gaze lingers on the last message. The one from Carlton. And then my anger intensifies as I read it over and over. This is exactly the problem. If it weren’t for him secretly being so sweet to me all the time, I wouldn’t come across as the unwanted puppy he claims I am. How dare he pretend he hasn’t been leading me on in private all this time? And for him to tell Meredith I mean nothing to him? Reading his message now feels like swallowing the cure tomy crush. I don’t know what I was thinking all this time. He’s nothing but a two-timing liar.
I just wish I found out sooner, before it ruined things between Meredith and me.
Still staring at his message, I shrink down on the couch next to Mom, where she’s watching her favorite drama show.
She sighs. “Will you put that thing away?”
“I just did.”
“Good. I’m not sitting here because I enjoy the sound of your phone going off. I’m here to find out if the neighbor is really insane or not.”
I force myself to pay attention to the episode we’re watching. It’s our favorite thing to do together—make homemade popcorn and watch overly dramatic shows. And I would be enjoying this one if it weren’t for the Little Birdie thing. The stress of the whole situation is just too much.
I need a plan to write myself a brand-new script. This is my chance to stop being seen as the introverted girl who gets cast aside.
Since there’s no avoiding being posted about, my only option is to utilize what’s being posted to my advantage. Once upon a time, I would have wished for LB to post about me in an appealing way, one that garnered Carlton’s interest and affection. But now? I don’t even know what I want.
“I think I might go to bed early,” I say.
Mom narrows her gaze at me and drops the handful of salty, buttery popcorn she was about to eat. “Are you serious? You feeling alright?”
