Between the Lines

“Wow, great. So now I’m sleeping with two guys. What, they couldn’t get a photo of me and Quinton? Or hey, how about me and Brooke? I mean who cares what’s true or not.”

“Did you get that SAT prep book I suggested?”

I’m thrown by the sudden change of subject. “I got it, but I really haven’t had time to go through it.”

“Emma, I know in your world the SAT doesn’t seem like a major deal, but it can determine where you go to college. You should already be halfway through the guide by now.”

“I know it’s important, but I’ve been really busy…” (My world? What does that mean?)

“Busy making out with Reid Alexander, hanging out all day and every night with all the other celebrities, you mean?”

“Emily, really?” I think I’ll wait to tell her about the increased makeouts… and the fact that I think I’m almost ready to sleep with him.

“You’re always complaining about being busy, but you’re all over Austin—shopping here, drinking and partying there, visiting Reid a dozen times while he was in the hospital—”

“I visited him twice, not including that first night, besides which, what is your deal?”

“What is my deal? We haven’t talked about my problems with Derek at all, and you aren’t here to help me find a dress for homecoming, which by the way is like four days away and I’m royally stressing over it; all we ever talk about is you and your issues with this hot guy and that hot guy and it’s like I don’t have a best friend at all.”

“Emily, if you want to talk about something just talk about it, and it’s not like I can just drop my life because you need a dress—”

“I haven’t even bought a dress since I was ten or twelve—”

“You got one for Grant’s graduation from Penn State! That was like two years ago!”

“Whatever!” she huffs, cutting me off. “That’s not even important!”

“What the hell is important? Emily, I can’t believe you’d do this to me right now.”

“You can’t believe I’d do this to you? Classic. Because you’re the one who needs the attention, right? And I’m the one who gives the attention. You’re the one with the spotlight, and I’m the one to the side. And who gives a shit about my problems? Clearly not you. You know what? Nevermind. I don’t need your help or your support, I have Mom.” The line clicks, and she’s gone.

I sit on the bed in my hotel room, staring at the phone in my hand, my breath coming thin and shallow, tears welling up and spilling over. There are too many things to feel at once, and all of them are bad. I’m an attention whore, and she doesn’t need me? She has a mom, and I don’t? Is that what she actually meant to say? I feel my heart pounding, hard and fast, hear it echoing in my ears. My face feels hot and I think I might be sick.

And then all I can think is: did Emily just break up with me?

***

Several sleepless hours later, I don’t mention my fight with Emily to Graham during our run, though he notices something is wrong not long after we start out.

“You okay, Em?” This is the only time he’s ever called me by the nickname Emily and I have called each other since we were five, and it’s all the push my emotions need. My eyes water and I dash tears away, mumbling some excuse about pollen counts and allergic reactions.

I’ve never had allergies a day in my life, but this week I appear to have the worst case ever. I don’t think he’s buying it, and after a couple of days, I text him that I should probably avoid the pollen and take a break from running. He texts back, asking if there is anything he can do. All I can say is no. Which is utterly true.

I alternate between wanting Emily to see nothing but pictures of me smiling and having a good time plastered all over her damned browser, and not wanting her to see photos of me at all because it would justify what she said. While everyone else goes out to unwind after long days of filming, I stay in and order room service, study the prep book, work the practice tests, and blame the SAT and fictitious allergies for my reclusive behavior and constant sniffling. Brooke offers her prescription allergy meds while Meredith pushes the holistic cures her homeopathic doctor recommends.

Emily’s homecoming comes and goes, and she never calls.

I don’t know if she found a dress, or if Derek convinces her he doesn’t want her to change who she is, or if she misses me at all.

I’m spending an hour every morning pressing ice cold rags to my eyes, trying to get the swelling down from crying myself to sleep.

I’m equal parts broken and mad as f**k.

Emily would know what mad as f**k is.

Chapter 36

REID

I’m supposed to start filming tomorrow, though my doctor and production are only allowing a few hours per day. I’m ready to get back to it, and it’s beyond frustrating. “Half a day is better than no day,” Richter tells me. “I’m happy I can use you at all.”

Emma sits next to me, translating a passage from a French novel. Or I think she is, until she says, “Eww. Did you just… kill that thing… with a skillet?”

I bury an ax in the shoulder of the next zombie and lop off an arm. “Damned… undead.” I meant to nail him in the head. “Technically, you know…” I sever the next zombie’s head from its body with the ax and she makes another disgusted sound, “…it was a frying pan.” I glance at her again, laughing at the revolted look on her face—one side of her upper lip raised like a sneer. Pausing the game, I lean into her line of vision. “I have to be ready to protect you, since you suck so bad at killing zombies.”