are things about Iliana I know now that give me pause—even if I can’t stand her: that she’s stern-looking because she’s driven to the degree that she spends her life consumed by her work.
That she probably won’t ever take a husband—she won’t want or need a man at all.
That if she ever settles down at all, it will be with a woman who wants her exactly as she is. As much as I hate Iliana Vrionides, I know she’s the kind of bitch that never settles for anything.
Sarah’s never talked about what she wants, and she’s never been clear on who she is. I don’t know Kiersten at all, but knowing Sarah and Iliana the way I do now has completely shifted the way I think over the past year.
It’s shifted what I want for myself, too.
It feels like some kind of divine mystery, the way people learn to love themselves like Iliana and Kiersten have. Or, for that matter, to know themselves like that.
Coming out was hard enough two years ago. Admitting to myself—and anyone else—how I might have changed over the past year is still harder than I could have ever imagined.
“I can, um”—Kiersten glances at her phone—“call an Uber, I guess—”
“No, you’re not,” I say. “Mom, you stay with Dad. We’ll take the SUV.”
“No adult?” Mom’s Botox-frozen eyebrows don’t move, but her face does this weird thing where I know they’d hike up into her forehead if they actually worked like they were supposed to. “Five teenagers and no adult?”
I shrug, and gesture for the keys.
This has nothing to do with concern for our safety and everything to do with spending the next two hours in solitary confinement with Dad.
“I’m not leaving Griff to listen to Dad grunt and fart at the Triple A guy.”
“Language—”
“I said fart. Give me a break.”
Mom and I glare at each other for a solid minute.
“Mom,” I finally say. “We only have two hours until we have to be there.”
Mom sighs and whirls on Griff. “Put everybody’s luggage in the back of their rental van, and there will be room for all five of you in the SUV.” She turns back to me. “Dad can wait with Mr. Wade for Triple A. I’m still driving. You need an adult.”
* * *
Behind where Griffin and I sit in the middle row, Sarah, Kiersten, and Iliana are purposely not talking—not in a we-just-fought sort of way but …
The energy is odd.
“Something happened in the van,” I whisper to Griff. “Don’t you think?”
The way Iliana isn’t looking at Kiersten speaks so much louder than anything either girl could say to each other. Iliana’s earbuds are in, and she hasn’t taken her eyes off her phone since we got back on the road. Kiersten is doing the same, sketching with giant candy-colored headphones covering her ears.
I start to ask Sarah what happened, but my phone vibrates in my lap instead.
Curious-in-Cheshire 1:21p: I know you think knowing each other—and doing this irl—will muddy everything up with the competition but like
Curious-in-Cheshire 1:22p: we go so much deeper than this
Curious-in-Cheshire 1:22p: we both know we deserve the award, we can be supportive of each other. Right?
I wish I could believe she’s right.
I steal a glance at Iliana, whose mere presence is a testament to how toxic competition really is.
I-Kissed-Alice 1:22p: I just don’t want to mess this up
I-Kissed-Alice 1:23p: you’re the realest thing I’ve got going for me right now
The truth of the words blooms somewhere deep. It honestly hurts, telling her no like this. I want so much for the circumstances to be different, for us to have just decided on our own to do this thing like we’ve talked about a thousand times before. The only difference? We’d choose to find each other.
The fact that life is just throwing us together should feel like fate, but instead all I have is an impending sense of doom.
I take a screenshot and text it to Griffin. His phone lights up, then he cuts his eyes to me.
What would you do? I text him.
I didn’t know y’all were so serious, he types. Rather than hit send, he just shows me his phone. I cut him a look.
He types: Do you think knowing who she is will change anything? Like if you find out now or later, you’re still going to find out eventually.
I type: What if we fall head-over-heels in love and have all this head-over-heels sex and don’t care about the scholarship anymore?
Sex. A real-life possibility I had not