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Act Three
In Which Forgiveness Is Fought for
Twenty-Eight
My grandma isn’t here when I get home, but this isn’t the first time I’ve forgotten and had the full force of her death hit me again. She’s the first person I want to talk to about this. She’d tell me how I can fix it all. Next on my list of people to talk to would be Corrine, but I can’t call her. I can’t even talk to Kayla because she didn’t know that Holden and I were semi-officially together.
My mom finds me pacing in the living room, reaching for my necklace that I probably will never get back at this rate unless it’s suddenly thrown in my face along with some of Corrine’s most creative insults.
“What’s going on?”
I pan to her, my tearstained, stiff cheeks aching when I open my mouth to speak. “What are you doing home?”
She rushes over, holding me close and rubbing my back. “I had some personal time to take. Tell me what’s happening.”
“I messed up.”
“Back up and explain what happened.”
“I fell in love with Corrine’s ex-boyfriend,” I say.
“Isn’t that—wait, that’s Holden, isn’t it?” She pulls away to look me in the eyes. “Baby, do you like Holden?”
“I love him,” I whisper, tears coming fresh. “And I’ve lost him, and Corrine, and I don’t know how to get them back.”
“Sit down,” she says, gently pulling me to the couch. “Explain.”
I exhale. “I sabotaged Holden’s chances of getting the VR headset he wanted, and kissed him, and kept stuff from Corrine, and told her I didn’t have feelings for him when I knew I did.” I bite my lip. “But I swear—Iswear—I didn’t mean any of it in a malicious way, I just wanted a better documentary and more time with him, and it was the perfect excuse. But I also didn’t want to hurt Corrine, so I just, I don’t know, didn’t tell her how deep I dug my grave and now I’ve come out in China or whatever.”
“Grandma always said you were an overachiever.”
“It’s not funny,” I say, leaning my head against her shoulder. “Corrine hasn’t spoken to me since Sunday. We’ve never gone this long without talking; even when she had her devices taken away for back-talking Mrs. Fields in eighth grade, she found a way to message me.”
She squeezes me against her. “Love complicates everything. It tells you you’re right when you’re wrong. It makes you do things you know you shouldn’t. It’s the most powerful feeling in the world.” She sighs, and a loose strand of my hair falls into my eye. “I don’t really have any advice for you except groveling.You messed up, kid. Apologize for it. Over and over again.”
I nod, but I hate that answer. It sounds long and painful and like I’m not going to get the outcome I want. Unacceptable.
“But if you love them both, and I think you do, things will be okay eventually. They love you back, and when you love someone, you’re more likely to forgive them for the stupid stuff they do.”
We sit in silence as my mind spins a million miles an hour. I can’t turn in my documentary anymore. It doesn’t have an ending, it doesn’t have Holden’s or Trevor’s blessing, and Holden would never forgive me if I turned it in. I have to focus on finishing up the VR edits and putting together the headset, so at least then I have something else to give to Holden when he’s not interested in my apologies. I have to keep begging Corrine to forgive me. She needs something tangible, I think, because that’s howsheshows that she’s here for me, but I don’t know what to do. Not yet.
My mom thinks I need something mind-numbing to do, so I don’t spiral. She’s right, but I put up a fight the whole car ride to the apartment complex that houses The One.
“What are we doing here?” I’m not in the mood to discuss leaving the only place that feels safe to me right now.
“I wanted to show you our new apartment.” She puts the car in park and exits the car.
“What?” I leave the car, slamming the door behind us. “You meanpotentialapartment?”
“Nope.” She pulls out a key and opens the front door. “Ournew apartment—townhome, actually. They still have to install some new appliances and put down new carpet, but this is it.”
“You made this decision without me? When I said no?”And more importantly, when I’m feeling lower than dirt, you bring me here to rub it in my face?
She glances at me over her shoulder. “I’m the adult. I’m the one who’ll end up living here longer than you.” She walks into the echoing, empty living room. “And I knew you liked it. You just found reasons not to because you didn’t want to move. So I made the decision.”
“Without me. Against my wishes.”
“Guess we know where you get that from,” she says quietly.
