I paused, and realized I wanted to have this conversation in person. “Are you busy?” I asked. “Can I come over?”
“Of course you can.”
“Okay. I’ll tell you when I get there.”
I hung up, gathered the letters from Cade, and headed for the door.
I was staring at Einstein on Isabel’s ceiling because I couldn’t look at her. I’d rather have Einstein judge me.
“I have to tell you something.”
“Okay … ” Isabel moved to her desk chair.
“Remember how I was exchanging letters with someone in Chemistry?” I said to Einstein.
“Yes. That girl?”
“Girl?” It had been so long since I’d thought my pen pal was a girl that it took me a while to remember that I had at first. “No. I mean yes, but I found out she wasn’t a girl.”
“How’d you find that out?”
“He said something about being a guy in one of the letters. Sorry. I thought I told you.”
“It’s okay.”
I waited for a moment. Waited for her to give a little excited squeal or happy hum. Something that would indicate that she thought this was a good thing—my pen pal being a guy. But she didn’t. She was silent. Probably because I seemed so distraught.
I sat up then to face her. Her expression was as serious as mine.
“Remember years ago when you gave up a boy because he was coming between us?” I asked in a rush.
She nodded. “You mean Cade?”
“Yes.”
She laughed a little. “Yes, of course I remember.” She paused and added, “I don’t want you to think that you were the only reason Cade and I broke up. The two of you both complained about each other to me all the time, and I got tired of it. But Cade and I wouldn’t have worked even if you weren’t in the picture.”
I nodded, then blurted. “Cade is my pen pal.”
Isabel didn’t answer. “Cade Jennings,” I repeated for effect, barely believing the words myself. “He’s the one who’s been writing to me in Chemistry.”
I pulled my shoulder bag, which I had flung onto her bed when I first walked in, onto my lap. Then I dug out all the letters and held them out to Isabel. But my best friend didn’t move to retrieve them.
“And I’m going to stop writing him. Now,” I said. “I didn’t write him today even though he wrote me. I’ll never write him again.”
She still said nothing and I noticed something missing from her expression—surprise.
That’s when it hit me.
Isabel knew.
I’d told her I had a pen pal. And Cade was in her Chemistry class writing letters without the tiniest bit of discretion. And she knew. Isabel was observant like that.
I stood, shoving the letters back into my bag. “Why didn’t you tell me?” I demanded.
“Because you hate him and you seemed so excited about the writing.”
“How long have you known?”
“Not very long. I swear.”
“Why didn’t you tell me? It felt like being slapped in the face today when I saw him at that desk. A little warning would’ve been nice.”
Isabel held up her hands. “I know. I’d hoped after a while that his letters would show you that he wasn’t someone you wanted to continue writing to. Because you hate him.”
I frowned. “I do hate him. But his letters are different … ”
Isabel’s expression went a degree darker. “Wait. You like him? Because of his letters?”
My heart jumped. “No! I don’t. What? Not at all.”
Isabel nodded, looking relieved. “You like David, right?”
“David … He’s fine … nice … ”
Isabel sighed. “You two would be perfect for each other if you’d both give it a chance.”
“Why are you insistent on getting me and David together?” I asked, putting my hands on my hips.
Isabel shrugged, but her expression said it all. “I thought he was a better match for you.”
“Better than who?” I asked.
“The alternative.”
“Cade?”
“Yes!”
The air seemed to fly out of me and I was rendered silent. She was jealous. She didn’t want me to know I was writing to Cade because she was jealous. Even though she and Cade had dated two years ago and she didn’t like him anymore, she was still jealous.
“I’m sorry,” she said again, her voice softer. “But it shouldn’t matter. You wouldn’t ever like Cade, would you? It would be too awkward, considering the whole history. I mean, I gave him up for you two years ago.”
“But you didn’t give him up for me … you just said that.”