Besides, this could be my last chance to make things right. I have a feeling if I let too much time pass, the potential for this situation to be deemed a misunderstanding will vanish, leaving a more permanent mark on my friends.
The parking lot is already filling up as Mom and I walk toward the double doors of the church building. My heels click against the pavement while Mom chats with someone she knows from the women’s group, but I can barely hear her over the anxious hum in my own head.
On top of all this, I haven’t stopped thinking about when I last saw Ezra. The way he almost touched my face and consumed my entire heart with that unapologetic stare.
But even though I’ve forgiven him, there’s still a huge part of me that’s hesitant to trust him after what he did. There’s still a bit of fear there, a grudge I’m still trying to crush.
Inside, the sanctuary is already buzzing with soft music and polite greetings. We slide into a pew, and I bow my head out of habit while the choir sings about grace and redemption.
And that’s when it hits me—like a punch to the heart.
How long have I been refusing to give grace to Ezra? How long have I held him at arm’s length, even when everything in me wants to inch closer?
I cross my arms and stare at my feet, blinking hard against the sting in my eyes.
I’ve been so caught up in Little Birdie, in the lies people believe about me along with the ones I’ve told myself. I’ve been immersed in the gossip I didn’t ask for but somehow can’t seem to escape. And all that noise has made it so easy to forget the important things. Like kindness. Forgiveness. Love.
Ezra hurt me. That hasn’t gone away, but he’s also not the same boy from middle school. He’s trying. And our time together this past month has made me realize something.
I definitely feel a lot more for him than forgiveness or even friendship. I can’t deny it anymore.
That thought makes something warm bloom in my chest.
The pastor starts the message, and I do my best to listen, but my mind keeps drifting back to Ezra. The way he still remembers every trivial thing about me four years later. How good it felt to hug him after that basketball game, and the way everything we do for show as a couple has me wishing none of it was fake. I’m getting addicted to the moments of genuine conversation we’ve been having. The moments when he shares things with me that his other friends don’t understand.
Moments where he brings things about me to my attention that I never even realized.
I sent the Little Birdie post, but I don’t feel nearly as relieved as I hoped I would. There’s still a nagging in my brain telling me to do the scariest thing ever—to come completely clean and admit I’m the one behind the app. But that thought freaks me out way too much, so I keep ignoring it.
My only consolation is seeing Meredith standing beside Carlton’s desk in homeroom on Monday, talking to him in lowtones I can’t decipher. I don’t know if what she’s saying is good, but at least they’re speaking again.
It’s progress.
And when third period ends and it’s break time, I find Carlton waiting by my locker with a tiny smile on his face.
“Hey, what’s up?” I ask.
“Finally, that little bird had some sense knocked into it.” He shakes his head like he can’t believe it. “And I thought things with Mere were over for good.”
“Well, you can’t really blame her. I mean, the whole thing sounded pretty suspicious.”
He sighs. “Yeah. But it was nothing. A misunderstanding, Rue.”
I wait for him to elaborate. I know from experience that staying quiet often leads people to keep talking in order to fill any uncomfortable silences.
“I was just talking to Mabel about my parents and the split they’re going through. I’d normally talk to Mere, but I could tell how overwhelmed she was getting with the musical. I didn’t want to add my problems to her load, you know?”
I feel a pang of sympathy at the mention of Carlton’s parents. Through their split, he’s put on a good “I’m okay” face, but I should know better. Of course the situation is weighing on him.
“I get it,” I say. “But C, it’s still a little weird for you to go to Mabel for emotional support instead.”
“Why?” He frowns. “She and I have always had that kind of relationship.”
Once upon a time, I thought he and I had the same thing. I maybe even thought I was special, but that’s clearly not the case. “Have you told Meredith this?” I ask.
“Yeah. She finally heard me out in homeroom this morning thanks to that post. I tried texting her before today, but she blocked me.”
I wince. “Well, I’m glad she listened. Hopefully now things can just go back to how they were.”
