The Girl Who Fell(83)
“The note you left in my room. You’re seriously going to deny it?”
Gregg runs his hand through his thick hair. “Can we start again? I feel like we’re having two different conversations.”
“There’s only one conversation, Gregg. And it’s our last. I can’t even look at you after seeing that note.”
“I need you to slow down. Tell me what note you’re freaking about.”
“The one you wrote with your ridiculous red autograph Sharpie.”
He reaches in his back pocket, pulls out the marker. “This?”
Seeing it makes my stomach wretch. “Nice. Want to throw anything else in my face? Now’s your chance. You won’t have another.”
“When would I have left this note for you?”
“You broke into my room.”
He lets out a laugh. “Broke into your room? Why would I do that?”
“Because you’re pissed I’m with Alec.”
He pulls back. “I’m bummed, not pissed. And this isn’t news, Zeph. I wouldn’t have to break into your room for you to know this bit of information.”
My head swims. “I know it was you.”
“Why? Because of a red marker?” He toggles it between his fingers. “You can pick one up at Staples.” He pulls back his arm, hurls the marker deep into the surrounding trees. I can’t hear the rustle of its landing. “That pen is meaningless, but you accusing me of breaking into your house is huge. Christ, Zeph, how is it that lately you don’t know me at all?”
A weakness begins to build in my knees. My brain clogs with facts. “It was you. It had to be. You made me sign my newspaper photo at breakfast.”
“Uh, yeah. And I still have it somewhere in my locker.”
“So how is it pinned to my wall?”
“Look, I don’t know what you think I wrote, or pinned to your wall or whatever, but you’ve got the wrong guy.”
“Right. It just appeared there. My signature and all. Did the word slut magically appear over my image too?”
“How can you think I would call you a slut? Ever.”
“You did. You wanted me to know it was you. That’s why you used that photo. It was signed. You knew I’d know it came from you.”
“Fuck. I don’t know shit about that photo. It could have dropped out of my locker. I don’t know.” He lets out an exasperated sigh and I feel its depth. A canyon of regret. “How did I become the enemy?”
He reaches out, touches my elbow with his. I want to pull away but I can’t. It’s our secret code, the one we’d started when our parents were torturing us by making us watch boring documentaries that were supposed to broaden our view of the world. But we were nine and we dreamed of bigger things. Explorer things. So we’d touch elbows to communicate that we’d make it through the torment together. We’d come out the other side.
But now when he touches me in this way, the connection seems fragile. It’s the first time I’m unsure if we’ll be okay on the other side.
“Look, Zeph, I don’t know how or why that note got pinned to your wall and I’m pissed it did, but it wasn’t me. There isn’t a part of me that could hurt you. Not on purpose. You have to know that.”
Confusion spills over my thoughts. “So then how . . . ?”
He shakes his head. “I don’t know, but I promise I’ll find out. No one deserves that, Zeph, least of all you.” He twists his empty keg cup in his hand.
“You swear it wasn’t you?”
He reaches for my hand and I let him hold me. “You know it wasn’t me, Zeph. You know me.”
And I do. The Gregg standing before me is the Gregg I’ve always known, not the monster that note conjured in my head.
He gives my hand a gentle squeeze. “I always thought senior year would all go down so differently.”
My throat is dirt dry. My nerves scattered. “Yeah.”
He throws a quick laugh. “Something tells me you and I had different versions of how it would unfold, but I’m willing to overlook the details.”
A small smile creeps onto my face. “Gracious.”
“I just want this again.” He strokes his finger across my palm. “Me and you, the way we used to be. Before I fucked up.”
The way Gregg holds on to his uninvited kiss as the worst thing he’s done makes me certain he couldn’t have written that note. Makes me hate myself for believing he could. And that’s when I know it had to be Lani. She must have heard what Gregg said to me in the lunchroom. I’d seen the way she hung her stare on me. I’d always known she was jealous of my friendship with Gregg. And then I threw it in her face, how she’s not invited to Anna’s wedding. She’s pissed that I am. Or maybe she thinks I’m leading Gregg on—that I want Gregg and Alec.