their eyes to the floor fast.
A toilet flushes, followed by the bang of a stall door. And there is Avery, in all her pearl-necklace-wearing, yuppie chic glory. “Not all of us have parents who can donate a cool million to a school so they’ll…overlook a scandal. Enjoying University of Michigan, Margot?”
Margot’s nostrils flare, but it’s Sierra who jumps in with barbs flying fast. “That’s rich, coming from you. First, how’s Stanford, and second, how’s kowtowing to the defense going?”
“I got into Stanford on my own merits. No namesake wings required. And I’m just keeping my enemies close.”
Guess Avery saw the Dateline special, too. And Sierra’s not wrong. Avery’s been sitting right behind Tyler, dressed to the nines like an angelic schoolgirl. Everyone knows that her mom is paying for Tyler’s defense. For Avery’s Stanford tuition, too, I imagine. I’m afraid of what Avery will say on the stand. Or what she won’t say.
Margot hooks her arm with Sierra’s. “Come on, let’s go find another bathroom. It’s not worth it.”
They don’t even wave goodbye to me. I’m the afterthought friend again. The bathroom door closes behind them. So much for our reunion. But then, some friendships aren’t meant to last forever. They occupy a moment in time, and then you move on.
I’m left with Avery blocking the exit.
“You’re not worth it,” Avery mumbles under her breath, crossing to the sinks to reapply her lipstick. It’s a gorgeous coral that brings out the blue in her eyes. Which I note look watery. Is she going to cry? “Can you believe her? I’m not the one who called my friend a heinous witch on national television. Anyway, how are you?”
“Avery, seriously?”
She pivots away from the mirror, leans back on the sink, and purses her lips.
“I got expelled from Claflin because none of you would stand up for me. I’ve been working two jobs to save for college, in my gap year, I might remind you. The one I was forced to take.”
“Olivia—”
But I don’t let her cut in. “Thank you for standing up for me there with Margot, but it’s a little late. And frankly, I can’t believe you, talking to me like everything is normal when you’re playing happy family on the defense side. What the hell, Avery? I know you’re a messy bitch, but this really plumbs the depths of ethical lapse.”
Avery crosses her arms over her chest, a wall erected with a cocked hip and half sneer to fortify the ramparts. “Are you finished?”
I give a terse nod.
Her expression falters slightly, as though she hadn’t really expected me to give her the chance to talk.
“I’m sorry about what happened with Claflin. Really, about everything. I was a shitty friend. And person, a good half of the time. I’ve mellowed a lot in California. I’m out, first of all. Got a fully public girlfriend and everything. College cliché.” She smiles to herself. “You’d like her. Eva is kind of intense, really into doing the right thing. Simpatico.”
I do a double take. “Wait, why would you threaten to out Stina for being gay if you’re also gay?”
Avery snorts. “Never happened. Stina and I were dating. I asked her to do me a solid and recommend you for editor, and she did. When Autumn found out and got suspicious, Stina covered my ass.”
“You call making you seem like a homophobic sociopath covering your ass?”
“I didn’t say I was smart. I regret it now. I regret a lot of things, truth be told. My priorities have shifted. And I know it’s important to make amends.” She offers her hand, and I take it, too shocked by an Ivy—Avery, of all people—actually apologizing.
A phone trills, and Avery pulls back with a groan. “That’ll be Mommy Dearest checking in. Look,” Avery continues with surprising sincerity, “I’ve got your back. When I’m on the stand, I’ll tell the truth. You didn’t do anything. You earned your spot at Harvard. And I’m sorry about that, too. Being so shitty about it. To Emma, too.” She grimaces.
I find myself comforting her. “We all have regrets. And Emma…was complicated. I’m the moron who didn’t realize the extent of it until she was gone. I still wonder all the time if she ever even liked me.”
“We all liked you, Liv. Enough to have you around. We just…didn’t treat you as nicely as we could have. Never got really close. It sucks, and I’m sorry.”
We push out of the bathroom door, and the phone chimes again. “You’ve got to be