Now That I've Found You - Kristina Forest Page 0,84

Kerri goes to find my parents, who have just arrived. I promise her that I’ll be okay finding my seat, that an FCC employee will be able to help me. She looks apprehensive but leaves, handling one issue at a time as deftly as she can.

With as much nerve as I can muster, I head to the auditorium, passing by all my idols, who are dressed to the nines. No one even notices me or spares much of a second glance, unless they’re looking at my gown.

I think about how Milo didn’t believe that everyone hated me, how he thought that was a stretch. And I think about the way no one at his party mentioned anything about Paul Christopher. Has it all been in my head this whole time?

But then, right as I reach the auditorium doors, I see him. Paul Christopher. He’s with Simone. She’s wearing a tight-fitted pantsuit, somehow looking better than the last time I saw her. Of course they’re here together. Paul doesn’t even look in my direction, but Simone sees me. She freezes, missing a step.

I was trying my best to make it through tonight, but seeing them is what finally breaks me.

A nauseous feeling builds in my gut, and I turn around and rush to the bathroom. Nothing happens when I push through the door and run into a stall. I don’t even throw up. But somehow I manage to stay there for the next forty minutes, trying to calm down. The ceremony has started by now. I think about how the camera has probably panned to my and Gigi’s empty seats, and I start sweating all over again.

Kerri texts, Where are you? Is everything okay? They just announced that your grandmother’s award is coming up soon. I’m worried. So are your parents.

I text back, I’m here. In the bathroom. Everything is under control.

Do you need me to come and find you?

No, I’m okay.

There’s been a steady stream of people coming in and out of the bathroom, but no one has stopped to wonder why a girl in a black ball gown is monopolizing one stall. I wait for the moment that the bathroom clears, and I finally emerge. My cheeks are blotchy, and my eyes are red. I look terrible. I can’t go on live television like this!

“No, no, no,” I mumble, opening my clutch and grabbing my concealer. My stupid, shaky hands drop the bottle, and when I bend down to grab it, all I can do is put my head in my hands and try to breathe.

I stand upright and look at my reflection. I don’t recognize myself. Aside from the red cheeks and blotchy makeup, I have a wild look in my eyes, a look of desperation. I’ve gone to so many lengths to change myself just so that I could be liked. So that everyone would find me worthy of my parents’ and grandmother’s legacy. That they would find me worthy at all. I’ve become so obsessed with it I didn’t realize what it was doing to me.

I think back to the other night, when Gigi and I argued. She said that my behavior was unlike me, that she didn’t understand why I cared so much about what people thought. I told her that she didn’t understand where I was coming from; she’s always been loved by everyone.

But maybe I don’t need everyone to love me. Just the ones who matter. James and Gigi both said that I need to learn my worth. Maybe I should start trying now. By taking off this stupid wig.

I drop it in the sink and look at my matted curls.

Breathe, Evie. Just breathe.

“I thought you might be in here.”

I turn and find myself looking at Simone. The second time we’ve met in a bathroom this week. Seriously, what are the odds?

“You look terrible,” she says. “Well, not the dress. The dress is gorgeous. You look like you’re about to have a nervous breakdown.”

Ignoring her, I focus on applying the concealer to the areas underneath my eyes.

“Everyone’s looking for you and your grandma, you know,” she says, coming to stand behind me. “It’s all anyone can talk about.” She glances back at the stalls. “Where is she?”

“She’s not here.” No point in keeping the secret. Everyone will find out soon enough.

Simone’s eyes widen, but she doesn’t say anything, choosing to watch me silently as I attempt to make my face presentable.

“Here,” she says, agitated. She grabs my shoulder and spins me around, taking