The Revenge Artist - Philip Siegel Page 0,31

“Huxley is dating Wade. She’s happy, and she wants nothing to do with either of us. That’s the truth, Steve.”

At first, I think Steve hangs up on me. But I can still hear his breathing, faintly, a tiny string holding this conversation together.

“So, this is how it ends, huh?” Steve says. “Despite everything that happened last year, she really liked hanging out with you. Even after she stopped talking to you, when we got back together, I could tell.”

I lean forward in my seat. The seat belt digs into my shoulder. “You could tell what?”

“That she missed having you around.”

Memories from last year pummel into me like a cannonball. We used to be friends. After years of an on-again, off-again, on-again, then off-again friendship, Huxley and I are leaving Ashland as total strangers. The lowest of low notes.

So, this is how it ends, huh?

I find a choice outfit for tonight. A tight-but-not-cloying black sweater with fashionable, strategic rips and black jeans to match. Leo texts me for the third time to ask whether I’ve left my house yet, and for the third time, I ignore him. I venture into Diane’s closet and pull out a pair of black boots from her tangle of footwear. My legs feel extra long as I zip them all the way up. I check myself out in her mirror. Looking good, Williamson. These Jessalyns fans aren’t going to know what hit ‘em.

Back in my room, I have yet another text message beeping for me. I scoop up my phone and prepare to roll my eyes. But instead of Leo’s impatience, I’m met with a picture of Fred’s nose and mouth covered up by two tickets to The Nutcracker.

I told you your request was noted ☺ You + Me + Sugar Plum Faeries, the Friday afternoon after Thanksgiving. Get ready.

Even though my tongue goes dry and my eyes won’t blink, I have to get him on the phone.

“Is this for real?” I ask. I throw my hand over my heart, but this is one of those moments.

“Yeah. You said you always wanted to go.”

I’m not a big holiday person, but I’ve always loved The Nutcracker, ever since we watched it during class in elementary school. Tickets are ridiculously expensive, and it gets vetoed in the Williamson household every year. This was a bucket-list item I thought wouldn’t get crossed off until I was of bucket age. I know it’s weird, but I’m still surprised when people who aren’t my family do nice things for me. I was never one of those girls who had classmates falling over themselves to hang out with me.

“You are the best boyfriend ever,” I say into the phone moments later. I can practically hear Fred’s beaming smile.

“I can’t wait to take you.”

I can feel the I Love You on the tip of my tongue, but am I thinking those three words because he bought me something thoughtful or because I know he wants to hear me say it? I need those words to be true before I cross that point. Diane says I’ll just know. And knowing doesn’t mean thinking that I should know.

“I should get going.” I check my makeup in the mirror one final time before I check it again later in my rearview mirror.

“Have fun tonight.”

“I’ll try, but I am working, technically.”

***

Leo and I wait in line at The Firehouse, along with other fans clamoring to see The Jessalyns. The Firehouse used to be a working firehouse back in the day, but it was abandoned, then converted into a concert venue where us suburban kids go to be “edgy.” Those over twenty-one get special wristbands in order to drink, and the rest of us sneak in vodka in water bottles.

“Are you sure this is going to work?” Leo asks. “I’m only fifteen, and it’s a seventeen-plus show.”

“Shout that a little louder, please. We want to make sure bouncers in Bangladesh heard you. Just stick to the plan, Howard.”

I had Fred’s friend Howard lend us his passport. The two of them share a passing resemblance. As long as eye color matches and the weight and height discrepancy doesn’t allude to a thyroid condition, we should be good.

“Did Howard also supply the wardrobe?” Leo picks at his plaid button-down shirt. He itches under his knit cap. The same cap three other guys in line are wearing. “I look ridiculous.”

“When in Rome.”

We get up to the front of the line. Leo’s hand won’t stop tremoring no matter how much I grip