Late to the Party - Kelly Quindlen Page 0,85

in on your party. Just a couple of nobodies. They don’t know that we’ve been to your house more times than we can count, that we know the code to your garage, that your brother knew to call us when he couldn’t get ahold of you this morning—”

“I know, I know, I’m sorry—”

“And you had someone in your bed,” Maritza said, her voice cracking. “You’re dating someone and we’ve never even heard her name.”

“It just happened recently,” I said, wiping my own eyes. “Literally just the other day.”

“Have you kissed her?” JaKory asked.

My stomach contracted, and my face flushed with heat. I could only stare at him and Maritza, the answer obvious on my face.

JaKory nodded very slowly, his jaw set. “Right,” he said, his voice unnervingly calm.

“I was going to tell you, I promise, I just needed a few days to get used to it—”

“I’m really happy for you, Codi,” Maritza cut in, her voice shaking. “But I guess you were right. I don’t know you anymore.”

I didn’t know what to say to that. And before I could think of anything, they had taken off in Maritza’s car.

* * *

I sat in the driveway for I don’t know how long. The sun was brutal on my neck, but I didn’t move.

Lydia found me. She folded herself down next to me, laying a hand across my leg, but I was too embarrassed to look at her. A long moment passed before she reached for my hand.

“Are you okay?”

I started crying. Not hard, but enough to need a tissue. I wiped my nose on my shoulder and hoped she didn’t notice.

“What happened?” Lydia whispered. “I thought they were your best friends. I knew you were having issues with them, but I didn’t realize it was this bad.”

I looked at her. There was no judgment in her eyes, only compassion and concern.

“I was trying to be different this summer,” I told her, wiping my nose again. “It’s like I told you that night at Samuel’s party … I didn’t like who I was with them. I wanted to try something new. But I never meant to hurt them.”

Lydia brushed my hair back, her hand gentle on my face. “Why didn’t you like who you were with them?”

I swallowed. “It’s hard to explain.”

“Try.”

“Okay, like … do you know how I became friends with them? It was the first week of sixth grade, during recess. I’d gone to this really small elementary school and didn’t know how to make new friends. I spent all of recess standing alone by the door waiting for it to be over. And JaKory had just moved here because his parents split up, and during recess he would just walk around the field aimlessly. Maritza was trying to hang around the popular girls, but you could tell she was trying too hard and was always the odd one out.”

“Mm-hm,” Lydia said, rubbing my back, her eyes intent on mine.

“So one day, this teacher called JaKory and me over to organize the recess crate. I think she was tired of seeing us standing alone and wanted to give us something to do. So JaKory and I started organizing it, and a minute later, Maritza ended up with us. She’d insulted one of the popular girls, and they’d all ditched her, and the teacher had seen it and brought her over before she could start crying. We started talking, and I remember feeling like—like I was safe, because they were as nervous and awkward as me. When the bell rang, we walked back into the building together, and we’ve been friends ever since.”

Lydia’s eyes were steady. “And you don’t like that story.”

I shook my head. “I didn’t even choose them, Lydia. A teacher whose name I can’t remember put the three of us together because we were weird and lonely and didn’t fit anywhere else.”

“But does it matter?”

“Yes, it matters! I don’t want to be that person anymore.”

“I don’t think you are.”

“But I feel like I am when I’m with them.”

Lydia trailed her hand down my hair again. “I’m gonna get everyone out of here,” she said quietly. “Give you some space to figure this out.”

“I don’t need space,” I said quickly.

Her hand stilled. “Well, you need something, and I’m not sure what it is.”

I looked at her. “I’m sorry.”

We were silent for a minute, and then she said, “Codi, just so you know, I like who you are. Not just the you who wears pretty dresses to parties, but the

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