Backlash (33 page)

What did I feel when I finally let myself look at the names on that piece of paper?

Betrayal. Anger. Disgust.

But that was a positive sign, according to Linda. Because I was starting to feel angry, instead of sad. Because I was getting mad at the people who were behaving badly toward me, instead of directing the feelings toward myself and feeling sad and suicidal. Because gradually, I was learning not to let those people have control over me anymore.

When I finally did go back to school, I was glad I knew those names. Some of the same kids who’d liked the picture of me on the stretcher, who’d written things like “Corpse Girl” and “Is Lardosaurus dead?” came up to me and acted so genuinely friendly and concerned that if I hadn’t seen Dad’s list I would have believed they really cared. Just like the same trusting idiot I was before this all happened. Like I was with Christian.

People can be so two-faced.

Or maybe there’s another explanation. Maybe they really
do
feel bad about what happened. That’s something Linda brought up when we talked about it. Maybe, after I ended up in the hospital, they thought about what they’d done. Maybe they hadn’t realized that the words they’d typed so casually caused me so much real pain.

The problem is, I can’t read their minds, and that’s what scares me the most — that I don’t know how I’m supposed to trust anyone ever again. Linda keeps reminding me that it’s a process. Ugh, the dreaded
P
word again. I keep asking her why someone can’t just give me a pill to cure this — I’d even take an operation. Why does everything have to be a long, drawn-out “process”? People always say, “It gets better.” What I want to know is
when?

And then the person who bullied me got bullied, too. You’d think I’d be happy about the poetic justice of that, but the weird thing is, I wasn’t. I mean, sure I was mad at Bree. I still am. But knowing that people were being so cruel to her didn’t make me feel any happier. As strange as it seems, it only made me feel worse.

It was as if the whole thing took on a life of its own that had nothing to do with me anymore. People who wanted “vengeance” on my behalf were as mean to her as she was to me. Did it make it better, any less cruel because they didn’t know her, because they hadn’t been her best friend once upon a time?

Maybe. Maybe not. Either way, everyone ended up hurt. She hurt me and they hurt her. Liam got hurt. Syd got hurt. Our parents were hurt. Did any of it help in the end, other than all of us hurting?

Even though I’m relieved that I don’t have to see Bree every day, I still see her going to and from her house once in a while — it’s hard to completely avoid someone when you live right next door. I have frequent, imaginary conversations with her in my head. They’re always short conversations. I ask her,
Why? What did I do to make you hate me so much? Why did you do it?

The conversations are short because she never answers. Because even when I try to imagine reasons why she would hate me enough to trick me with Christian, to write the things she did, I come up blank. Even a year later, after all this therapy, I still can’t figure it out.

That, more than anything, is what still makes me crazy and prevents me from moving on.

“Come on, Lara,” Dad shouts. “We’ve got to leave if we’re going to get to the game on time.”

It’s the big Lake Hills versus West Lake football game today.

Liam and Syd are both freshmen at Lake Hills now, although Liam told us the Connorses might have to sell their house and move to a smaller one because Mr. Connors’s plumbing supply business still hasn’t picked up from the hit it took after the bad publicity. Mrs. Connors’s real estate business is dead. She’s working at Walmart for minimum wage. They’re struggling to afford the mortgage.

I take a last look in the mirror, adjust my purple-and-gold hair ribbons, and head downstairs. Syd and Dad are already in the car.

“Hurry up!” Mom says, handing me my pom-poms.

We pull out of the driveway and just as we pass the Connors house we see their car starting to back out of theirs.

“Is Bree going to the game?” Mom asks.

“Yeah,” Syd says. “She’s on the dance team. They’re performing at halftime with the West Lake band.”

My mom glances back at me, her forehead furrowed with the “worried about Lara but don’t want to say anything to upset her” look.

“Mom, we live next door to each other. I already see her once in a while without totally losing it, so I think I can handle her dancing on the football field without having a relapse,” I say.

Syd gives me an encouraging grin.

“I wasn’t thinking you were going to have a relapse, Lara, honey,” Mom says. “You’ve made such good progress. I just … don’t want you to be
upset
.”

I try to imagine how I’ll feel if Bree and I actually come face-to-face — like if we bump into each other randomly in the crowd. Will I ask her why, or just act like nothing ever happened because what’s the point? Will I say hello or walk straight by her like we never met?

Until it happens, I’m not sure how I’ll react. Maybe today’s the day I’ll find out. Or maybe not.

When we get to school, my parents and Syd go to sit in the stands, and I head down to the sidelines to meet the rest of the squad. We start doing crowd warm-ups, even though the stands are still half-empty and not everyone on the team is here yet. It gets people psyched up, and moving keeps us warm.

Mom and Dad are sitting together, but Syd’s not with them. She’s sitting in a different section a few rows down with Liam. They seem relaxed together, and happy. Even if their relationship doesn’t last, at least something kind of good has come out of this whole mess. For that, I am grateful.

But as much as I try to be happy for them, it only reminds me of my loneliness. I’ve been too afraid to get involved with anyone since Christian, too scared to trust people, even the ones I can see right in front of me.

Knowing that Liam’s here, I can’t help turning around and glancing at the opposite sidelines to see if the West Lake dance team is there. They are, and they’re wearing black-and-silver track suits. But I can’t pick her out.

Maybe she didn’t come. Maybe she couldn’t face being back here.

I could understand that. People might have moved on, but they haven’t forgotten.

Luis and Julisa wave to me from the stands. They’ve been so supportive of me. I couldn’t ask for better friends.

“See you at halftime, after the show!” Julisa shouts.

I give her a thumbs-up and wave my pom-poms in their direction.

Luis smiles and shouts, “Cheer hard!” Ever since he remembered about the tulips, I’ve started noticing little things about him. Like what a great smile he has, and how even though he and Julisa might bicker about little things, he always sticks up for her.

When the game starts, I don’t know if it’s because I think Bree might be there, but I cheer even louder, kick even higher, and smile even bigger than I normally do. I want to show everyone that Lara Kelley is doing just fine. Lara Kelley didn’t let this destroy her — even though she almost did at first.

We’re up 14–7 at halftime, when the West Lake band, their cheerleaders, and the dance team take the field. I search for Bree, and I think maybe I spot her. I have to admit, their routine is pretty good.

Then it’s our turn and, for the first time in a while, I’m really nervous to perform. It’s the halftime show. All eyes on us. And I don’t want to mess up any tumbles or do the slightest thing wrong, because Bree might take it as a sign that she damaged me in some way. That somehow she won. But then, as I think that, I see myself sitting in Linda’s office. Hear her telling me that’s an unproductive thought that I need to learn how to toss.

So I pretend it’s a piece of paper and mentally throw it in a pretend garbage can as the band starts up. Taking a deep breath, I just let my muscle memory take over and do what we’ve been practicing over and over.

It’s all good.

Luis and Julisa meet me on the sidelines when we come off the field.

“You hungry?” Luis asks. “I’ll buy you a wrap.”

“Sure,” I say.

“What about me?” Julisa complains. “Are you buying
me
a wrap?”

He looks at her like she’s crazy. “You’re my
sister
,” he says. “Buy your own wrap!”

“Oh, come on,” I tell him. “Be a good twin and get one for Julisa, too!”

“I get suckered into everything,” he says, sighing before heading off for the food cart.

“I have to run to the bathroom,” I tell Julisa. “I’ll meet you back here.”

“Meet me at the food cart,” she says. “I’ll go keep Luis company in line, since he’s treating.”

As usual, there’s a line for the girls’ room. I’m standing behind a group of girls in black-and-silver tracksuits. I wonder if they know Bree.

“How does it feel being back at your old school?” one of them asks the black-haired girl standing with her back to me.

“Weird,” she says. “
Really
weird.”

My heart starts thumping in my chest, and my palms are damp. It’s Bree.

“I never thought I’d come back here, ever,” she continues. “Not after … what happened.”

I stand there, frozen.

And then Christine, one of the other cheerleaders, comes out of the bathroom, and says, “Hey, Lara,” and Bree turns around, looking at me, wide-eyed.

Her face looks thinner and paler against the stark black of her hair.

I feel a flood of nerves explode within me, and I have the urge to bolt. Instead, I quietly say, “Hi, Bree.”

“Lara,” she says. “Hi … I was wondering if I’d … see you here.”

“Yeah … me too,” I say. “You —”

Hurt me so much … Made me try to kill myself over a guy who didn’t even exist … Made me afraid to trust anyone including myself …

“— look different with dark hair.”

“I did it a while back,” she says, fidgeting a little. “Mom hates it.”

The girls she’s with are watching and listening. They know what happened, and they’ve figured out that I’m Lara Kelley.

The girl who fell for Bree’s trick. The girl who tried to kill herself.

I am that girl, but I’m not just her anymore. I’ve been working really hard to become more. I straighten my shoulders.

“I liked the routine you guys did,” I say, even though what I really want to say is
Why, Bree? Why did you do it?

“Thanks,” Bree says. “We’ve been practicing that one for a while.”

She glances at the line ahead, as if desperate for it to be her turn so she can avoid talking to me anymore. “How are things here?” she asks. “With you?”

I had to work so hard every day to get to where I am now … I hate you for what you did to me … Why did you do it, Bree? WHY?!!!

“Great!” I say, smiling brightly. “Cheerleading’s great. Homecoming’s coming up soon. It’s all good.”

I feel like I’ve turned into my mother.
Everything is perfect with us Kelleys!

“Oh … I’m glad to hear that,” Bree says. We’re almost at the front of the line, and a stall opens up. “Is it okay if I go first?” she asks her friends. “I’m really desperate.”

They tell her to go ahead.

“Bye, Lara!” she says, before escaping into the bathroom stall.

Her teammates look at me curiously, like they’re not sure what to make of me. They seem surprised that there wasn’t more of a scene.

What they don’t realize is that when I get into the bathroom stall, my legs are shaking. I have to take several deep breaths to try to calm myself down before I emerge to go meet my friends at the food cart.

Julisa’s in line as I come out of the bathroom. At least it’s shorter now.

“I couldn’t wait. I left Luis waiting for you by the food cart,” she says. “Don’t let him eat my wrap!”

“I won’t,” I say.

The minute I see Luis, he asks, “What’s the matter?”

“How can you tell?” I ask.

“Because you’re even paler than usual,
gringa
.”

Even though I’m freaked out, he gets a giggle out of me.

“I just ran into Bree.”

“Is it the first time since …”

“Yeah. It was … weird.”

“Are you okay?”

Am I? I’ve been imagining that meeting for so long, now that it has taken place it’s almost anticlimactic. And I still don’t know why Bree did what she did. Maybe I never will. Maybe I just have to learn to move on, regardless.

“Yes,” I tell him, summoning up a smile. “You know, I think I am.”

He hands me my wrap and shifts from one foot to the other.

“So, before my sister gets back, I wanted to ask you … Do you want to go to the homecoming dance?”

He takes me totally by surprise.

“With you?”

“No, with Iron Man,” he quips, smiling, his warm eyes lighting up. “Yes, with me!”

I don’t know if it’s because I just saw Bree, or if it’s just because I’m a coward.

“I’m sorry … I can’t. I’ve got to get back.”

And I turn and run back to the sidelines.

I immediately regret it.

Syd says I should have said yes and just gone. She says it’s like trying to get back on a bicycle to ride after falling off. But if you fall off a bike and you break your arm, the doctor can tell you how long it’s going to take to heal. So many weeks wearing a cast, so many weeks of physical therapy, and, boom, you’re good to go.