P.S. I Like You(38)

“Is it repairable?”

“It’s splintered. It’s not a clean break.”

The mattress sank down as my mom sat next to me. She rubbed my back. I shrugged her hand off. She got the hint.

“I’m sorry, Lil. You can have first dibs on all the fairs,” she said softly. “I’ll help you earn it back.”

I lifted my head, brushing the tears away from my eyes. “Why should I have to earn it back?” I said. “Shouldn’t Jonah be working the fairs to buy me a new one?”

“He’s seven.”

“Old enough to know better.”

“Honey … ”

“Mom? Can you leave? I want to be alone.”

“Okay.”

I didn’t say anything and she stood and left my room. I heard her call for Jonah as she shut my door. Then they had a conversation in the hall. I listened in, my face pressed back into the mattress.

“Jonah, did you break your sister’s guitar?”

“What? No.”

“Did you go in her room and break her guitar?”

“No! I didn’t.”

Right. Give him the chance to say no, Mom. Good call. She should’ve just led with, “I know you broke her guitar.” But whatever. It didn’t matter. It was broken. Jonah admitting it wouldn’t change that fact.

There was a rattling on my handle followed by my mom saying, “Leave her be for now. You can talk to her later.”

Mom must’ve told everyone to leave me be because no one bugged me for the rest of the evening. Not a single person. After years of trying to get some alone time, I finally had it.

I pulled my notebook out and stared at the song I had started. I couldn’t write that song right now. It was about him … about Cade. I shuddered. I could only write one song about Cade. I turned to a fresh page and positioned my pencil.

You claim you want to be heard.

So you write your hollow words.

You fill your life with deception.

Because it’s all about perception.

The world sees you one way.

And they listen to all you say.

You crave their attention.

To feed your addiction.

You have two sides.

Two faces.

You’re trying to hide.

In two places.

And I hate you, Cade, because you’re the biggest jerk in the world and you should go away forever and stop writing me stupid letters where you pretend to be nice and misunderstood.

“Ugh.” Even my angry Cade-inspired songs were better than anything I’d written before him. I scratched two deep lines in an X across the words. Then I flipped to the back and crossed out all my suspects. Why couldn’t it have been you? I thought as I x-ed out Lucas’s name.

I reached up, ripped down the newspaper clipping from my wall, and crumpled it into a tight ball. Even if I still could finish any song, I wouldn’t be able to write the guitar part for it. And there was no way I was using a song that had anything to do with Cade. I threw the paper across the room. I was being dramatic, but for once I felt like I was justified. Everything had gone wrong.

I dug my phone out of my pocket and called Isabel.

“Hey, Lil!” she answered.

“Hey.” I thought I’d kept the tears out of my voice but when she added, “What’s wrong?” I realized I hadn’t.

“Jonah destroyed my guitar.”

“Oh no! How?”

“I don’t know. He’s denying it, but it’s broken. Completely broken.”

“I’m so sorry,” Isabel said softly. “I know how much you loved your guitar. How hard you worked to buy it.”

“Yeah.”

“Your mom will probably replace it, right?”

“She can’t afford that, Iz. She couldn’t even afford a spool of thread for me before payday.” Tears came to my eyes again. “This is not a spool of thread.”

“That totally sucks.”

“I know.”

“Aw, Lil. It’ll be okay.”

“It’s just, this was my thing, you know?” The tears fell down my cheeks now and I couldn’t stop them. “It was the one thing I was really good at. The one thing that brought me perfect peace and happiness. I don’t need much, but I need this.” I wondered if I was only talking about my guitar.

“Then you’ll find a way to get another one,” Isabel said with determination. “It might take some time, but you’ll do it.”

I knew she was right. “Yeah.”

“If I could, I’d buy you one.”

I smiled through my tears. “I wouldn’t accept something like that from you, Iz.”

“I know.”

I sniffled and wiped my nose on my sleeve.

“So was that the thing you wanted to tell me at lunch?” Isabel asked after a moment.