Oh no. I forgot about Jackson, as Briella is obviously aware. She takes Rat’s arm and leans into his side. How could I have forgotten about Jackson? The Prince to my Cinderella. It was just that I felt comfortable with Rat. But the truth is it didn’t feel comfortable. It felt . . . amazing.
“I think he went that way.” Briella gestures vaguely toward the back wall.
“I better go,” I say to Rat. I can’t read his expression, but the smile has vanished. He stands, tall and silent, beside Briella. They make a lovely couple.
I turn and stumble off through the crowd to the sound of Briella’s laughter behind me. I’m going to kill her. Sometime tonight I’ll find her and I’ll confront her. She’s not going to break Rat’s heart just because she’s jealous of all the new attention I’m getting from her friends. I won’t let her. I grit my teeth and head back toward Whitney’s table, but there’s no sign of Jackson.
“I think I saw him a minute ago,” Whitney says, when I ask her. No one else seems to know where he went, either, so I sit down at the table to wait. I can’t blame Jackson for disappearing. After all, I was the one who left with Rat.
My eyes return to the dance floor and, even though I don’t want to, I can’t help but watch Rat and Briella dancing. It’s a fast dance, and they’re both laughing as they move to the music. They look like they’re having fun. I blink and glance away. Everything blurs. Music. Laughter. Talking. Cinderella is at the ball, but it isn’t exactly what I’d dreamed.
I listen for Skinny’s voice. Still nothing.
I glance around, looking for Jackson. Prince Charming is nowhere in sight. The music stops, and Briella leaves Rat to go off toward the bathroom. Now’s my chance. The music starts up again with a loud beat.
“Come on,” Whitney shouts across the table. “We’re all going to dance.”
I shake my head. “I have to go to the bathroom,” I yell over the music, and she nods. Grabbing Matt’s hand, Whitney pulls him toward the dance floor, leaving behind a trail of giggling wannabes to push through the crowd and follow.
Briella is at the sink when I walk in the door.
“What are you doing?” I ask her, blocking the way out.
“What does it look like I’m doing? I’m using the bathroom.”
“Like you’re using Rat?”
“What are you talking about?” Briella’s face gets serious. She pulls a paper towel out of the dispenser on the wall and wipes off her hands. She pushes past me to get to the trash can.
“This is about you and me. There’s no reason to bring Rat into it.” Anger surges through me. It makes me feel sharper and more alert. I whirl to face Briella.
She blinks at me like she doesn’t know what I’m saying. But she does. I know she does.
“It isn’t always about you. I like Ted,” she says. “He’s a good guy.”
I stiffen. “Why are you calling him that?”
“I think it’s time for him to leave that silly nickname behind, don’t you?”
“He likes it,” I say.
“Does he really? Do you even know?”
“I’ve asked him.”
“How long ago? Fourth grade?”
I don’t know how long ago it was. Could he have changed his mind and I didn’t know? What else has happened without me knowing?
“He asked you to the dance, Ever,” Briella says. “You were always his first choice. He told me. But you wanted to go with someone else. So why are you knocking me?”
She has a point. Not that I want to hear it. I did . . . do . . . want to be with someone else. Jackson. It’s always been Jackson.
“I just don’t want Rat to get hurt,” I say.
“Ever,” she says, “I really like him. He makes me feel smart, and funny, and something more than just pretty.”
Just pretty. That’s all I’ve wanted for so long, I don’t know what else I’m supposed to want.
I realize she’s telling the truth, and I don’t know what’s worse. Briella using Rat to get back at me or Briella actually liking Rat. My Rat. A sense of loss sweeps over me.
“I don’t want you to hurt him,” I mumble again.
“Why would I do that?” she asks, snapping her fingers in front of my face like she’s trying to wake me up. “You really don’t understand me at all, do you?”
“I guess I don’t. It’s not like we’ve exactly been friends.”
“You think Whitney is your best friend now?” she asks.
“At least she’s been nice to me.” I’m not sure I really believe that, but I say it anyway.