HOW TO HEAL A BROKEN HEART

BY KELS BARNHOLDT

Copyright 2012, Kelsey Barnholdt, all rights
reserved. This book is a work of fiction, and
any resemblance to any persons, living or
dead, is entirely coincidental.

NOW

How do you get over someone? How do you
heal a broken heart? It’s a question asked all
over the world every single day. Every day
different people deal with something they thought
deep down would never happen.

A relationship ending or a friendship going sour -
- people surprise us, and well, let’s be honest,
sometimes they completely shatter us. For some
people there were signs

-- little things they knew deep down meant
something. For others, it comes completely out of
nowhere. Either way somehow, someway, we’re
left to pick up the pieces. To have to face the fact
that somehow we have to be okay again, even if

it’s without a person we thought we would
always have. But how do we do this? How do
we become okay again?

And for that matter what does “okay” even
mean?

To answer this, to truly answer how one gets
over another person, I have to back to the
beginning.

THEN

The first time I lay eyes on Rich Carn I’m
wearing a Sponge Bob t-shirt. No, I’m not
kidding. Not just any Sponge Bob t-shirt either,
but a bright yellow one with Sponge Bob’s face
blown up obnoxiously across the front of it. I’ve
been at the beach all day with my family and had
grabbed it from my mom’s beach bag to throw
on last minute over my bathing suit. It was way
too big for me and came down past my knees.

I was on my way to our van dragging behind me
our huge cooler, three towels, and a beach bag
stuffed with everything you could ever need for a
fun filled day at the beach. It was taking both
hands and all of my strength just to move the pile
of stuff halfway across the parking lot. I was just

about to abandon the beach bag on the sidewalk
and come back for it when I spotted him.

The first thing you notice about a boy like Rich
Carn is that he’s dangerous. His eyes are so dark
I’m afraid that up close they could be black. His
hair was just as dark and despite the nice
weather he was dressed head to toe in black. He
was leaning up against the fence surrounding the
beach smoking a cigarette. He was the kind of
guy your mother warned you about and it made
him all the more appealing. I had never seen
anyone who seemed as interesting as he did in
that moment and the fact that his eyes were
fixated directly on me didn’t help.

I tried o not stare back but it wasn’t something I
could help. When he tossed his cigarette over the

fence and into the sand then starting walking
toward me I could feel my heart beating so fast in
my chest I thought it might explode. My
experience with boys was limited to say the least.
And when I say limited I mean none talked to
me. At all.

He stopped directly in front of me and looked me
up and down, as if trying to figure out if I was
worth the effort. I must have passed whatever
test was going on in his mind because he slowly
nodded to himself. “Cute shirt.”

They were the first words out of his mouth and I
couldn’t tell if he was joking or not. There was
no smile on his face and I could feel my face start
to turn red. He liked this because a satisfactory
look passed over his face then. “Where is this

going?” he asked me scooping the cooler up off
the ground as if it were light as a feather.

I somehow found my voice. “Uh, blue van, over
there.” I found myself pointing.

He accepts this and starts walking toward the
van. I stand there watching him go, I’m to
shocked to move.

“You coming?” he calls over his shoulder without
turning to look at me and I hurry to catch up to
him.

“So does the girl in the sponge bob t-shirt have a
name?” he asks me as we approach our van.

I start to dig through the bag on my shoulder as
we walk, looking for the car keys I’d seen my

mom throw somewhere in there earlier this
afternoon. My hand touches a bottle of sunscreen
and I make my eyes focus on the contents of the
bag, I make my eyes focus on anything and
everything except for him. I don’t know how
someone I just met can make me so nervous, but
he does.

“S-Stephanie,” I tell him never taking my eyes off
of the beach bag.

He chuckles. “I’m Rich. Of course I can tell you
that without stuttering.”

The comment makes me feel young and immature
and when we reach our car all I want to do is
crawl in the trunk and disappear from his field of
vision.

He drops the cooler on the ground and reaches
into the pocket of his shorts and pulls out a cell
phone and holds it out to me. I just look at him
and he rolls his eyes, then reaches down, grabs
my hand and shoves the phone into it. “Put your
number in,” he orders.

I do. I don’t think twice about it. And when I
hand the phone back he shoves it back into his
pocket and then starts to walk back across the
parking lot without another word.

“Will you call me?” I call out. It sounds desperate
even to me and I wish I could take it back the
second the words leave my mouth.

He stops and turns around to look at me.
“Maybe, I mean that’s as long as your boyfriend

doesn’t care.” He laughs out loud after he says it
like the thought of me having a boyfriend couldn’t
possibly be true. Then he turns around again and
is gone just as fast as he came.

NOW

I thought about him the whole drive home. I had
spent my entire sixteen years on earth wanting to
be noticed. Hoping that somehow, someway, a
boy would notice me. I hated movies that didn’t
have a happy ending and I wouldn’t read books I
knew didn’t end with the girl getting the guy. I
believed in happy endings, no, I counted on
happy endings.

I had thought about nothing but how there’s that
one person out there for everyone for the last six
years. I couldn’t wait for my happy ending, I
couldn’t wait to be loved.

Of course when you’re young you don’t realize
that sometimes you have to go through the bad to

get to the good. You don’t realize that the first
guy may not be the best guy. He may not be the
one who’s supposed to make you happy forever.
You don’t realize that there’s a bigger picture.

Instead, you dive headfirst as fast as you can into
something that turns out to be a disaster for your
heart.

THEN

I didn’t hear from Rich for three days and I had
almost convinced myself I had imagined the
whole thing when the text message came.

“Lets hang out.” That was it, no hi, no how are
you, and no introduction. Yet somehow I knew it
was him and somehow it was enough, somehow
it was enough to make me feel like he wanted
me.

We met at a diner. I was amazed by him, but I
wasn’t stupid enough to just drive off somewhere
with him. I figured a public place was the best
route to go. He didn’t exactly seem like the type
to take me off into the woods and hack me to
pieces but somewhere in the back of my mind

was my dad’s voice telling me over and over
again how you can never be to carful these days.

The date is fast, I babble a lot, and I’m so
nervous I can feel myself sweating way too much
more than a few times through out the night. But
he kisses me at the end of the night and for the
first time in as long as I can remember I feel
special, I feel like I have someone who is mine.

I fall hard and I fall fast. My life started to revolve
around Rich. I lived for spending time with him
and I would ditch anyone and anything to see
him. Rich called and wanted to see me and I had
plans with my friends? My friends were ditched.
My mom wanted to have a family dinner and
Rich suddenly got the night off? I would blow off
dinner. He came before anyone and anything

else, even myself. As a result my relationships
with the people in my life started to fade.
Eventually my friends stopped calling, my little
sister stopped asking me to do things with her
and my parents stopped caring if I came to
dinner every night.

My weekends were spent waiting for him. If he
went out with his friends for the night and I didn’t
hear from him I would hold my phone in my hand
hoping he would text or call me soon. My grades
were slipping and I was lying to everyone about
everything.

All the money I had saved over the years from
babysitting, birthdays, Christmas, and other
holidays was slowly dwindling away. This was
because if I saw anything that I thought Rich

would like or want I didn’t hesitate to buy it. It
became so bad that I couldn’t even remember
the last time I had spent any money on myself.

I didn’t care though. I didn’t care if I didn’t have
any friends. Or if I wasn’t doing well in school, or
if I was barely talking to my family anymore. I
was in love and as long as I had Rich I had
everything. I didn’t need anyone or anything else.

Naturally, when he ended it I was devastated. He
was my first love, my first kiss, my first
everything. I had honestly believed that we would
be together forever. He didn’t really have a
reason for breaking up with me; “I just don’t
really like feel it anymore you know?” No, I
didn’t know.

I felt like I was going to die. I had never
understood the expression heartbreak but I could
literally feel my heart aching in my chest. I thought
there was no way I could feel worse, but that’s
how the world works. One horrible thing is
usually followed by more horrible things.

NOW

The relationship was clearly unhealthy. I cared on
a completely different level than he did. While it
was true that we had some good memories, it
seemed like in my mind I was making it out to be
much better than it was. Of course you don’t
think about that at the time, all you can think
about is the pain. It’s almost impossible to
recognize a unhealthy situation while you’re
involved in it because you’re not healthy yourself.
It takes a healthy person to realize they deserve
to be treated like they matter.

Of course when you’re sixteen and you’ve just
had your heart shattered for the first time no one
tells you that, and even if they did you probably
wouldn’t listen. You don’t want to hear any of

that, you don’t want to think about any of that,
because all you can think about is the pain. The
pain in your heart that seems to be traveling
through your whole body.

Most people go through different stages once a
relationship is over. You call or text them a
number of times hoping they will answer or
hoping they will somehow say it was a mistake
and they miss you like crazy. Then you move on
to making yourself crazy, checking his facebook
like twenty times a day, staring at your phone
wishing he would call, even driving past his house
(oh come on, we’ve all done it), then you move
on to crying. The crying is different for everyone,
for some it’s constant, for others it’s so rare that
it feels like it never happened at all.

No matter how many tears you cry, no matter if
you share your heartbreak with the world or with
no one, no matter if you walk around like your
world is destroyed or with a smile that reveals
nothing that you feel inside we all reach a point.
A point comes where something happens letting
us know can’t keep beating ourselves up all day
long. It can come a few days after, or a few
weeks, or honestly a few months after. A point
where the world says he isn’t coming back and
that we have no choice but to let it go, no choice
but to somehow carry on again. And that point is
when the real healing begins, that point is when
you have to try like hell to be okay again. That’s
the point that is the scariest because you feel like
you’ve let yourself slip to the point of no return,
yet the universe is forcing you to get up off the
ground.

THEN

Two weeks after Rich broke up with me I’m
laying in my bed with the covers pulled over my
head. I feel like I’m going to cry but somehow I
can’t. I think its because I’ve cried so much that
there’s nothing left inside of me. My parents have
no idea how upset I really am. They clearly know
I’ve been moping around the house, but they
don’t know I cry myself to sleep every night or
feel so horrible inside that I don’t feel like things
are going to get better.

I’m just laying there staring at the insides of my
blanket when my little sister walks in. Actually
from the sounds of it she runs in but I figure if I
pretend to be asleep she might leave so I lay
perfectly still. I’m just about to try to figure out

how to fake snore when she throws the blanket
off my body and plops her little body on my bed.

“Hello.” She says. She’s wearing a pink tutu with
bright purple tights and what looks like a yellow
crown. Her hair is twisted on the top of her head
in a braid and she’s wearing bright pink lipstick.
“I’ve come to invite you to my tea party.”

I sigh and open my eyes to talk but she cuts me
off.

“Now it’s true that you keep declining my offers
but I thought I would give you one last chance to
accept before I gave you your dismissal
paperwork.” She’s waving around a yellow
envelope, which I can only assume are my
“dismissal” papers.

“Megan, do you even know what dismissal”
means?” I ask.

She rolls her eyes “Don’t talk to me like I’m a
child Stephanie, of course I know what it means,
I’m almost eight. It means you’re kicked out!”

“Kicked out?”

“Yup. Kicked out of the group. I mean, you
haven’t been to tea in weeks and honestly if I
were you I’d be kind of embarrassed. You’re the
topic of conversation all the time.”

The topic of conversation? Really? I am? “I
am??”

Megan nods. “Oh yes, the other guests bring it
up almost every week. Just the other day Barbie

was saying how you’ve, um, let yourself go.” She
looks me up and down as she says it.

I look down at my pajamas and sigh. Even my
little sister knows I’m not looking my best these
days. I can’t help it. It’s like some days I over
eat and other days I can’t eat at all. I feel like I
haven’t been out of my room for days and when
my mom or dad come in here I just pretend to be
busy looking at colleges or something until they
go away. I sigh and roll over. “Leave me be.”

“Okay. Well I just need you to sign the release
papers so I don’t get sued later on,” she tells me,
waving them around in my face.

“Sued?” I ask her.

She nods. “My lawyer says it’s best to cover all

my bases. I can have him call you if you prefer
before we move forward.”

I groan and grab the envelope out of her hand,
anything to make her leave me alone. I’m just
about to look for a pen when I realize what she’s
having me sign. It’s a yellow envelope addressed
to my parents and the return address is from my
school.

“Where did you get this?”

Megan shrugs. “Doug gave it to me.”

Doug? Who the hell is Doug? “Who’s Doug?” I
ask her, trying to stay calm.

“The mailman.”

“You’re on a first name basis with our mailman?”
I ask her still looking at the yellow envelope in
my hand.

Megan nods. “I invited him for tea but he’s very
busy with his career today.” She looks me up
and down. “Some of us have been up and, you
know, working for a while now.”

She says “we” like she’s been up herself working
for hours.

I roll my eyes. “Megan, go away. I’m keeping
this.” I shove the letter from my school under my
pillow before she knows what’s happening.

A shocked expression comes over her face
“Hey! You give that back!

STEALING

MAIL

IS

A

FEDERAL

OFFENSE!”

Shit. If she doesn’t be quiet my mom’s going to
come in here asking questions.

Think fast, think fast. Got it.

I narrow my eyes at her. “Are you wearing make
up?”

She stops and stares at me for a minute. “Well,
you should probably look them over anyway just
so you’re sure, gotta go!” She bolts out of my
room slamming the door behind her.

I wait a few seconds then grab the envelope from
under my pillow and rip it open.

The words are like a slap in the face.

Three out of five classes failed. Summer school
necessary to proceed to senior year. In the sum
of six hundred dollars.

Shit. Shit. Shit. How could this have happened?
How? I mean, yeah, I was a little preoccupied
with Rich and I knew my grades were slipping a
little bit but three classes failed? I failed three
classes? How is that even possible? This has got
to be a mistake. But a feeling of dread comes
over me because I know that it’s not, I know
deep down it was way worse than I would admit
to myself. Rich broke up to me right before final
exams and I didn’t think about them let alone
open a book to study for them.

My parents are going to kill me. I’m so screwed.
My dad is all about college. The only reason he
let me date Rich is because I would swear up
and down I was keeping my grades up. He is
going to go off the wall when he finds out about
this. And if I know my dad at all once he does
find out he is going to make me pay for summer
school myself, which means he will find out my
savings is gone. Completely gone.

I’m so screwed. I’ve been lying to everyone, and
it’s all about to come crashing down around me.

Unless. I mean, unless I could somehow come up
with the money by myself.

Unless I could somehow get away with this
without them finding out. I could somehow get

through summer school without them even
knowing. The thought is giving me anxiety and I
feel like my heart might explode in my chest. And
for the first time in weeks, I get up, get in the
shower and start to put together a plan of action.
Not because I want to, but because I know I
have to.

Is forging someone’s name against the law? I
didn’t think this was such a big deal at home but
now standing outside the main office at school
I’m beginning to have major second thoughts. I
mean, I know kids sign their parents’ names all
the time when they get bad grades and stuff, but
still .I feel like summer school is way different
than just a stupid bad grade on a test or
something. School has been out for a few weeks
now so the halls are completely empty, but

somehow I still feel like people are watching me.

I’ve never done anything like this before and
while I thought I could pull it off, looking at the
secretary sitting in the main office now, I’m not
so sure. I’m really nervous and everyone knows
someone who is nervous isn’t exactly good at
keeping their composure under pressure. Plus
they work in this building all year long, they can
probably see right through kids who are trying to
get away with things.

I’m just about to turn and walk out when I feel a
hand on my shoulder and I jump, dropping the
forms in my hand all over the floor of the hallway.

“Jeez. What’s wrong with you?” The voice
belongs to Chelsea Mathews.

Chelsea’s in my grade and I’ve had a few classes
with her over the years and while she’s always
been nice to me I wouldn’t exactly call us friends.
That’s because Chelsea’s, well to be honest,
she’s way to popular to really be my friend.

My school has pretty much three main groups.
The really popular group, the semi popular group
right below them, and everyone else. While
Chelsea isn’t in the really popular group she is
one of the most popular in the semi popular
group. She attends a lot of the parties that most
of the really popular people have and is really
close with a select few and the only reason she
isn’t completely in with them is because she’s
way too nice.

When I say way too nice, I mean nice to

everyone. She is friends with absolutely anyone
and everyone. One time in seventh grade she had
this huge birthday party and invited literally
everyone she was friends with. It was probably
the only time outside of school that so many
different groups of people were together in one
place.

“I’m sorry.” I scoop down to pick up the papers
on the ground. “You scared me!”

“Yeah, I could tell.” She smoothes down her
white jacket and looks down at me with worried
eyes. “Are you okay?”

“Totally. I’m totally fine.”

Seeing her again reminds me how beautiful she is.
She has this long hair that’s normally a dark red

but she’s dyed it this really light shade of blonde
that makes her look exotic and beautiful. She’s
naturally tan with a few freckles sprawled across
her nose.

Her eyes are this intense green and I would kill
for my teeth to be that white. She’s wearing
black shorts, a black tank top that shimmers in
the light and a white leather jacket with white
heels. I could never ever pull off an outfit like
that.

If it was anyone else I would feel totally
embarrassed in my jean shorts and gray t-shirt
but I know Chelsea would never judge me, she’s
not like that at all.

“You don’t really look it.” She tells me. “You

look kind of panicked.”

And maybe its that she’s noticed something isn’t
right, maybe it’s the way she’s looking at me like
she might actually be concerned about me, or
maybe it’s that I haven’t talked to anyone about
how sad I’ve been since the break up, or maybe
it’s that I know I have no one to talk to because I
have given up everyone and everything for him.
Or honestly, maybe it’s just because I know I’m
in way over my head with everything, but right
there in the middle of the hallway I start to cry.
And not just crying a little either. I mean full on
sobbing. Crying so hard I feel like I cant’
breathe.

Chelsea looks shocked for a second, like she
can’t quite understand what she just walked into,

but she recovers quickly. “What’s wrong?”

And so I tell her. I tell her everything. I tell her
how I have a broken heart, I tell her how none of
my friends will call me back because I ditched
them for a boy. I tell her how I’ve been lying to
everyone and how I’m holding a forged summer
school paper with absolutely no way to pay for
my classes. And when I’m done, she just stares
at me.

I’ve just told all my deepest darkest secrets to
one of the most popular girls in school and I can’t
even think straight.

The secretary who must have heard me sobbing
and crying like a crazy person has come out in
the hallway to see what’s going on. “Everything

okay out here?” she asks, but she’s looking at
Chelsea, not me. Chelsea’s mom is a teacher
here so almost everyone knows her, and loves
her, of course.

Chelsea looks at me for a second before she
speaks. She shakes her head. “No, no,
everything is not okay, Susan.” Great, she’s on a
first name basis with the secretary. And I know
it’s over. I know the jig is up. They will call my
parents and my life will be over.

Maybe, just maybe they will only ground me for
half of my senior year and not the whole thing.
I’m about to tell Susan before Chelsea can to
save at least some face when Chelsea reaches
over and grabs the summer school papers out of
my hand.

“My friend Stephanie’s parents are getting
divorced!” she exclaims shaking her head sadly
back and forth.

What? What is she talking about? They are not!
Was she even listening to me when I was going
on my crazy rant? I mean, I said a lot of sad
horrible things but nothing about my parents
getting divorced. Geez, you would think someone
would pay attention while I’m having a nervous
breakdown.

“Oh no!” Susan says, looking at me with pity in
her eyes. “You poor thing. My sister is going
through the same thing right now. It’s so tough on
the children.”

I shake my head, confused, but before I can say

anything Chelsea’s talking again.

“But I bet your sister is at least worried about the
children! Poor Steph’s parents are too busy to
even care about her! I mean look at this!” she
says, waving the papers in her hands around.
“They just sent her down here with the
paperwork for summer school like it was
nothing! I mean it’s no wonder her grades were
slipping with everything going on at home.”

Susan shakes her head. “In so many of these
situations the poor children just get overlooked.
Now come right in, honey, I’ll take care of you.”
She puts her arm around me and pulls me after
her. “No need to be embarrassed.”

“Well of course she’s embarrassed!” Chelsea’s

following us into the office as she talks. “I mean,
she even has to pay for it herself, Susan! Can you
imagine?”

And I know what she’s doing. She’s lying for
me, she’s helping me. Chelsea Mathews is here
in the office helping me lie my way into summer
school.

“So young, so young to have to deal with such
burdens.” Susan’s rubbing my shoulder. “How
do you do it?”

It takes me a second to realize she’s talking to
me. “Well...I just…I try to take it day to day.”

Susan sighs and looks at Chelsea with a look that
says “this poor child.” Chelsea nods then says,
“So clearly she will need to be set up with the

payment plan.”

“Of course!” Susan says.

Fifteen minutes later I’m enrolled in two summer
school classes. (You’re allowed to fail one class
and pass for the year so I only have to re-take
two of the three classes I failed. Yay for small
victories!) I’m also set up with a payment plan.
It’s broken up into monthly payments of two
hundred dollars for the next three months.

When we walk out of the main office a few
minutes later I don’t know how to begin to thank
Chelsea, but before I can even say something,
she’s walking out the main doors. She stops
before the door can slam behind her and turns to
look at me.

“Come on,” she says. ‘”We’re going to get you a
job.” And then she lets the door slam shut behind
her before she has a chance to see the shocked
expression that comes across my face.

I’m sitting in a bowling ally right now. No. I’m
not kidding. After I ran to catch up with Chelsea
outside of school she instructed me to get in my
car and follow her car. I almost refused, but she
had pretty much just saved my ass, so how could
I really walk away from her now?

So I did what she said -- I followed her, and ten
minutes later we ended up in front of a bowling
ally, or should I say “Lucky Strike.” The building
itself doesn’t look very impressive from the
outside. Its red paint is chipping off the building in
every which way, and it looks like it could use a

nice landscaping job. But once you get inside it’s
completely different.

The floors are so clean they sparkle, there’s a full
arcade, really nice wooden lanes, and a snack
bar that looks like it has a full menu. Surprisingly,
it’s actually pretty busy for the middle of the day
during the week. Like five lanes are occupied.

“Wow. It’s pretty busy huh?” I say to Chelsea.

She laughs. “Oh, this isn’t busy.”

I’m about to ask her what she means when
someone throws a pair of bowling shoes at me.
Literally there are bowling shoes flying at me
from across the counter and right at me. I duck
my head out of the way but they keep coming.
Chelsea rolls her eyes then swings her whole

body gracefully up on the counter.

“Chuck, are you trying to knock me out again?”

I hear his laugh before I see his face. It’s loud
and jolly and when he emerges from below the
counter I realize it’s exactly the kind of laugh id
expect to come from him. He’s a heavy et guy
with thinning brown hair, warm eyes, and a smile
so big I fear it might eat the rest of his face.

“One time,” he says, looking at me like we’re old
friends, “I came in really early and started to sort
through all the shoes. I had no idea Chelsea was
standing right in front of the counter. So I just
kept throwing shoes out there and knocked her
right over. She had a huge red mark on the side
of her face for the rest of the day. I mean, it really

wasn’t funny, except it was, ya know?”

He’s laughing as he tells me and suddenly I find
myself laughing along with him.

Chelsea scowls. “Yeah, real funny, laugh it up,
guys.”

Chuck shakes his head. “It’s not my fault these
damn kids who work at night don’t know how to
put things back where they go. How hard is it to
sort shoes at the end of the night?”

“Well ask for help and you shall receive!”
Chelsea says. “Stephanie here needs a job!”

Chuck looks at me then as if he’s seeing me for
the first time. “Well uh… I mean, you know any
friend of yours Chelsea...but um well…” he says,

taking in my appearance.

“Don’t worry,” Chelsea assures him. “I’ll clean
her up.”

Hey! Clean me up? What’s wrong with me? I
mean, it’s a bowling ally, jeez.

Sure maybe I have let “myself go” a little like my
little sister was all too eager to tell me, but no
need to discuss it right in front of me.

Chuck nods, accepting this. “Okay, bring her
with you whenever you work next for some
training.”

Chelsea claps her hands together happily and
reaches over to kiss Chuck on the cheek.
“Thanks, Chuck, you’re the best!”

Then she jumps off the counter and grabs me by
the hand. “Nice meeting you,” I call as she pulls
me out the door.

“This is great,” she tells me, walking across the
parking lot. “The pay is only eight dollars an hour
but it’s under the table so they don’t take any
taxes out. Like, he just pays you for your hours
at the end of the night. Which I guess could kind
of be against the law but whatever, a job is a job,
right? Plus you get to keep all your tips.”

This whole situation is so strange to me. Less
than two hours ago Chelsea was just another girl
who I went to school with and now here she is
helping me clean up the mess that it took me
months to create.

“Why?” The words are out of my mouth before I
can think about saying them.

She just looks at me, puzzled. “Why does he pay
under the table? I don’t know. I would never ask
him, it’s probably -- ”

I shake my head. “No, I mean why are you
helping me? You barely know me.”

She shrugs. “Everyone needs help sometimes,
even from people they don’t know that well.”

Then she opens the door and hops in her car.
Right before she slams it shut she says, “Meet me
at the mall tomorrow in front of Macy’s, ten
o’clock.” And then she’s gone.

And so I get in my car, and I try to think about

how I am going to possibly go to summer school
and work for the next few months when all I
really want to do is lay in my bed and not get up.
How I am going to get up everyday and carry on
when all I feel inside is sad? And then I place my
head in my hands and for the second time that
day I start to cry.

NOW

Sometimes you don’t start to get over something
because you want to, but more because you have
to. If it was up to me I would have stayed in bed
all summer. I would have stayed there every day
feeling sorry for myself, wondering where I went
wrong.

But sometimes circumstances like summer school
make you get up and make you carry on because
that’s the thing about starting to move on; you
have to MAKE yourself do things that used to
come so easily. And while that’s painful, it’s a
very small step in the right direction, because lets
face it -- every marathon starts with an inch.

THEN

I think my mom was more excited about me
going to the mall with Chelsea than I was. I
mean, I know I hadn’t had any friends over in a
while but jeez. She was kind of freaking out.
When I first told her I was gong to the mall she
had assumed I was going with Emily.

“Oh, this is wonderful!” she said, clapping her
hands up and down and bouncing around the
living room. “I just knew you two would work it
out. You were way too close to let something as
silly as a boy get in the way of your friendship!”

The words sting and my heart starts to hurt even
more than it did before, which I didn’t even think
was possible. Emily was my best friend before

Rich came along. When I say best friend, I mean
we did literally everything together. She knew
everything about me and at first she was really
happy for me that I had a boyfriend. But she
started to hate him when she started to see he
wasn’t exactly treating me well. Eventually I just
started not calling her back. I didn’t want to deal
with it. She was the only friend out of the girls I
used to hang out with that I didn’t try to contact
after me and Rich broke up.

Not because I didn’t care about her, but because
I did. I cared about her the most out of all my
friends and I knew deep down that she was
probably the one hurt the most by what I did. I
had no idea how to even begin to explain myself
to her or what I could possibly say to make her
understand. Sometimes as I was carrying on with

things day to day I would wonder what she was
doing, or what she would think if she could see
me now. Somehow, I doubt she would be very
impressed.

I shake my head. “No, Mom, not Emily.”

She pauses. “Oh. Well, who then?”

“Chelsea. You know her, her mom works at the
school.”

My mom sighs “Of course! Chelsea! She’s a
beautiful girl! Good for you, honey, good for you.
Getting back out there.”

“Yes,” Megan says nodding from her spot on the
carpet where she’s busy coloring. “Good for
you, Stephanie. Getting out there is a wonderful

step.”

I force a smile and start to slowly back out of the
room. “Yeah, well, I should go.”

My mom has been totally supportive with my
break up, or she’s tried to be, anyway. But the
truth is that she has no idea how deep I was in
with Rich or just how upset I really am. And I
don’t like talking to her about it. I just like
escaping.

“Wait! Let me give you some money,” she says,
running to her purse.

“Oh no, it’s okay, Mom.”

“Don’t be silly, Stephanie, that’s what mothers
do!” she tells me, beaming as she digs through

her purse.

“Yes,” Megan says, still scribbling away. “That’s
what mothers do, Stephanie.

Like if I wanted money for a new bike Mom
would give it to me right away because that’s
what mothers do right, Mom?”

My mom shoots Megan a look and Megan
shrugs.

My mom smiles and hands me a wad of bills. I
hesitate but reach out and take it then stuff it in
my jeans pocket. I feel really guilty but at the
same time kind of relieved because I obviously I
couldn’t really afford any type of shopping trip
with Chelsea today.

But she didn’t really give me a chance to explain
that before jumping into her car and driving off.

“Thanks, Mom, really.” I tell her as I head out.

Once I get in the car I take the money out of my
pocket and count it. One hundred dollars. My
mom gave me one hundred dollars. I start to cry
and I don’t stop until I’m pulling into a parking
spot in front of Macy’s twenty minutes later.

“What about this?” Chelsea asks me, holding up
a pink shirt covered with sparkles. We’re in
Forever 21 digging through the clothes. Chelsea
insists that if I’m going to be working with her I
need to be a little more stylish. To be honest, it’s
not that I don’t like these types of clothes, it’s
just I never really thought I could pull them off.

But with Chelsea’s help I’m starting to think
maybe I can.

“Cute,” I tell her, grabbing it out of her hand.
Forever 21 is like a hidden treasure that you had
no idea even existed. Honestly they have the
cutest clothes at the cheapest prices. Plus to top
it off Chelsea’s friend Amber works here and
gives Chelsea the employee discount for
everything she buys. (Which I don’t really think
Chelsea’s supposed to do, but she doesn’t seem
too concerned about it so whatever.) Amber’s
employee discount is for fifty percent off, so the
clothes come out to cost next to nothing.

Which is good for me, considering I’m on a
budget and all.

About an hour later, I emerge out of the store
with five new tops, two skirts, and a pair of
jeans. Which for eighty dollars is a total steal. I’m
actually pretty excited to show my mom what I
got. I know she will be excited.

“Do you have a flat iron?” Chelsea asks me as
we walk through the mall.

“A flat iron?”

She nods. “You know, to make your hair
straight?”

I search my mind. “I think, buried somewhere.”

She nods. “Dig it out and use it. And here.” She
starts digging through her purse and emerges with
a plastic bag filled with all different types of make

up. “I went through my make up and picked out
colors I thought would work for you. Do you
need help putting it on or do you know how?”

I take the bag from her. “Um, I think I can figure
it out.”

“Good.” she tells me squeezing my hand.

“Thanks Chelsea. For everything.”

She opens her mouth to speak but a pair of
hands covers her eyes from behind before she
can.

“Guess who?” The voice belongs to Evan
Moralli. Next to him Andrew Collins is standing
shaking his head, like knows this trick is lame.

Evan is a kid in our grade. He’s really nice, and
pretty goofy if you ask me. I don’t think there’s a
time when he isn’t laughing or trying to make
people laugh. Evan isn’t one of the most popular
kids in our school but he’s pretty up there in the
group that Chelsea hangs out with.

Andrew is also in our grade, and he’s probably
the most popular kid in our grade over all. I can’t
say for sure but I’m almost positive it’s because
he’s absolutely beautiful.

I’m not exaggerating, either. He has brown
floppy hair and these really intense blue eyes and
he must, like, live at the gym because he’s like
totally muscular and the captain of at least three
sports teams.

Evan and Andrew have been best friends for as
long as I can remember. Which is why even
though Andrew is definitely higher up on the
social scale than Evan they’re still always
together. I’ve seen at least four girls stop and
stare at Andrew as they pass in the few seconds
since the boys have been standing with us and I
try to not roll my eyes.

Chelsea crosses her arms over her chest. “Evan,
if you make me fall backwards again I swear to
God. I’m wearing heels!”

Evan sighs and takes his hands off of her eyes.
“How did you know it was me?”

Andrew laughs and hits him in the arm. “It might
be time for a new trick, bro.”

“No way!” Evan says. “That works on the ladies
all the time.”

Chelsea laughs. “What are you guys doing here?”

Evan shrugs. “What, a couple guys can’t go out
for a nice day of shopping together?”

“It was Evan’s idea,” Andrew tells us.

“It was not! It was mutual!”

“Not really. You totally texted me like, ‘yo let’s’
hit up Hollister today, I wanna shop.’”

Evan shoots him a nasty look. “I did not say
SHOP. I wanted to go to the video game store!”

Andrew flips the Nike hat he has on around so

that he’s wearing it backward.

“Yeah, but you definitely mentioned Hollister
first.”

“NO. I DIDN’T,” Evan says and his face is
starting to turn red now. Yikes.

Andrew pulls his phone out of his pocket. “I have
the texts right here.”

Evan grabs Andrew’s phone out of his hand and
holds it over the railing. “Say it was mutual! Say
we both wanted to go!”

Andrew grins. “Don’t be ridiculous, you’re not
going to drop my phone and you know it.”

“I will! I’ll really do it this time!” Evan chants,

which makes me think they have been in this
situation before. I’m starting to get a little nervous
because people are for sure starting to look at us.
But Andrew seems at ease, and it’s his phone, so
whatever.

Chelsea rolls her eyes. “I swear you guys fight
like you’re a couple. Come on, I want a pretzel.”
She starts to walk off.

Evan pauses a second, looks after Chelsea, then
throws Andrew’s phone at him and runs to catch
up to her. “Wait, I want a pretzel!” he calls.

Andrew catches the phone with one hand and
grins at me. “What’s up, Stephanie?”

Which completely takes me by surprise. I didn’t
know Andrew knew I existed, let alone knew my

name.

I shrug. “Just out for a day of shopping. It really
was Chelsea’s idea, though.”

“Are you implying it was my idea and not Evan’s
to go to the mall?” he asks me.

I fall into step beside him and we start to walk
after Chelsea and Evan to the pretzel stand at the
other end of the mall. “No,” I say. “I’m just
saying he was willing to throw your phone off the
second story of the mall to prove his point.”

Andrew rolls his eyes. “Oh please, he threatened
to throw it out the window of our fourth period
science class last month because I told him his
favorite color used to be red not blue, and that
was on the third floor.”

“Hey,” I tell him, “I’m not judging you. It’s none
of my business if you love to shop, Andrew. It’s
actually kind of cute if you ask me.”

Oh my God. I can’t believe I’m giving Andrew
Collins shit right now. What has gotten into me?
This is not like me at all. Am I flirting with him?
No. No, I can’t be.

Right?

He laughs. “So the girl with the book has jokes
now, huh?”

I look at him out of the corner of my eye. “The
girl with the book?”

He nods. “Yeah, every time I see you, you
always have your head buried in a book. Even

walking down the hall, which I might add is a
good way to trip or walk into somebody, both
equally dangerous.”

I can’t believe he noticed that I always have a
book. I didn’t think anyone noticed me period,
let alone Andrew Collins. I erase the shock from
my face and recover quickly.

“Tell you what, why don’t you let me worry
about my safety and you worry about the safety
of your phone?”

He nods. “Fair enough. I didn’t know you and
Chelsea were friends.”

“We aren’t,” I say before I realize what I’m
saying. “We...it’s complicated.”

He looks at me. “Yeah, most things are.”

And something about the way he says it makes
me feel like he wants me to know he understands
more than I think, which makes me uneasy.

“Hurry up you two!” Evan calls and then we’re
hurrying to catch up to him and Chelsea.

“I was just telling Chelsea how I’m having people
over tonight and you guys should come,” Evan
says when I reach him.

“I’m down. What about you, Stephanie?”
Chelsea asks, looking at me. And for a second I
almost give in, I almost say yes, but I don’t.
Because I don’t belong with these people, these
aren’t my friends. I’m Chelsea’s charity case and
the second I forget that is that second I will end

up getting hurt again.

“I actually have plans tonight. Thanks, though,” I
tell them.

They accept this and look toward the front of the
line to get their pretzels, except for Andrew, who
I can’t help but notice keeps his eyes on me for
just a moment longer.

NOW

I clearly wanted to go to the party. I just
wouldn’t let myself. I was too scared to get close
to anyone again, even just friends. I felt deep
down that the second I forgot my place with
Chelsea and her friends was the second I would
be reminded in a very negative way of just how
little I fit in with them.

Of course, if we’re being realistic, Chelsea didn’t
owe me anything. I had never done one kind
thing for her in her life, and no one was forcing
her to help me. She was doing it on her own,
which should have told me she wanted to do it,
she wanted to help me.

But the thing about getting over someone is that

sometimes it’s really hard to let yourself trust
again. Sometimes it’s really hard to allow yourself
to believe there are people out there who will
treat you right, who won’t hurt you, who really
do want you around. Sometimes it literally has to
be staring you right in the face before you see it,
and even then, if you aren’t careful, you could
miss it.

THEN

My mom is very proud of me for getting a job.
She’s, like, totally shocked at my responsibility,
but somehow I feel like if she knew the real
reason I was really working this summer was to
pay for summer school she wouldn’t be to happy
with me.

The day of my first shift at Lucky Strike I start
getting ready way too early. And when I say way
too early I mean like three hours before my shift.
I can’t help it. Chelsea made me even more
nervous then I already was. After the mall last
week we exchanged numbers and she called me
last night to make sure I was ready for work. I
assured her that yes I was, but then she told me
to make sure my make up was done, and my hair

was straight and I was wearing a new outfit
because the better I looked the better tips I
would get.

Which made me almost have a panic attack
because I didn’t really think a new outfit and a
little make up was going to somehow transfer me
into a model. But now, as I stand in front of the
mirror staring at myself I have to admit I don’t
look half bad. I mean, not model status, but
definitely cute.

My brown hair is completely straight thanks to
my straighter and my face is nice and dark since I
put on this bronzer Chelsea gave me that
somehow matched my skin perfectly. I’m
wearing a light silver eye shadow with mascara
and just a touch of pink gloss on my lips. It’s not

that much, but for me it’s a completely different
world. I can’t remember the last time I wore
make up.

For my outfit I picked my new white jean skirt
and a black sparkle tank top, both of which I got
at the mall with Chelsea on our shopping trip.
Chelsea says we can wear whatever we want as
long as we look “cute.” I’m not sure if this is true
since when I went in there everyone was wearing
jeans and Lucky Strike t-shirts, but whatever. I
mean, she is the one who got me the job and so
she must know what she’s talking about, right?

I’m trying my best to sneak out the door for
work without being seen when Megan stops me.

“WHERE YOU GOING LOOKING LIKE

THAT?” she screams from behind me.

I jump and drop my purse, spilling a bunch of
stuff on the floor in the process.

“Jeez, Megan.” I scowl at her.

She runs down the hall after me and bends down
to help me pick my things up.

“Where are you off to so quickly?”

I sigh. “Work, Megan, and it’s very important
I’m not late so I don’t get fired.”

“THAT’S what you wear to work?” she asks,
looking me up and down. “Its kind of…flashy for
a bowling alley, isn’t it?”

Great. Now I’m getting fashion advice from my
eight-year-old sister.

“No, it’s not, actually,” I tell her, picking up the
last of my things off the floor and shoving them
into my purse. “Now I have to go.”

I’m at the end of the hall when she calls out my
name. I grind my teeth together, force a smile and
turn around “Yes?”

“You look really pretty.”

And the crazy thing is that for a second I actually
believe her.

As soon as I walk into the bowling alley I know
I’m going to be in over my head.

It’s not the middle of the day anymore. Pretty
much every lane in the place is filled already and
it’s only six o’clock. Not to mention there’s a
huge line at the counter waiting to check in. The
arcade is packed with teenagers and there’s kids
running and screaming every which way. I feel
extremely overwhelmed and nervous and I’m just
weighing the pros and cons of staying or turning
around when Chelsea grabs me by the hand and
pulls me behind the counter.

“Don’t get overwhelmed. It looks worse than it
is,” she tells me.

“Hey!” some kid screams at us from across the
counter. “I’ve been waiting on my nachos for like
twenty minutes now!”

“They’ll be right out!” Chelsea tells him, flashing a
smile. The boy shakes his head and heads back
to his lane.

“No matter how testy they get, keep smiling,”
Chelsea orders me. “Now take my lead, and
whatever you do, don’t give your number to
anyone.”

I’m going to tell her she has nothing to worry
about, but I don’t really have time because she
doesn’t give me any. It turns out Chelsea is the
fastest person in the world.

She is never doing just one thing. If she isn’t
taking orders and delivering food to lanes, she’s
behind the counter giving out shoes and assigning
lanes, or she’s cashing in tickets for kids in the

arcade, or unjamming the vending machine. You
name it, Chelsea does it.

And when she isn’t doing something, she’s
ordering me to do something. “Bring this to lane
twelve,” she tells me, handing me a huge tray of
food. “Assign those kids with their dad to lane
eight, you remember how to ring them in, right?”
she tells me, pointing to the front of the bowling
alley.

And that’s how it is all night long. I don’t get a
break and I’m way too busy to even think about
asking for one.

It isn’t until Chelsea and I are sitting at an empty
table toward the back of the bowling alley four
hours later that I realize just how tired I really am.

“So?” Chelsea asks me. “What do you think?”

“I think,” I tell her, rubbing my sore feet under
the table, “that this place is crazy.”

She laughs. “It definitely is, but honestly being
thrown into the fire is usually the best way to
learn.”

“Um, it is?”

She nods. “Totally. I mean, think about it. Is
there anything you don’t know how to do after
tonight?”

I think about it for a second and realize she’s
right. Not taking your time with each little thing,
but just having to figure it out as quickly as
possible makes things stick in my mind much

longer. I mean, I was literally everywhere tonight.
Sure, it wasn’t exactly a normal training day but
in a way this was way more helpful.

“Wow,” I tell her. “You’re right.”

She smiles with satisfaction. “I usually am. Plus,
check this out.” She reaches into her apron
pocket and pulls out a wad of bills. “This is
yours.”

“It is?” I ask her.

She nods. “It’s half of the tips I made tonight.
You did just as much as me.”

I hesitate and she rolls her eyes and thrusts the
money into my hands. “Take it,”

she tells me. “It’s sixty dollars. Keep that up and
you’ll have paid for summer school in no time.”

I smile to myself because she’s right. Not only
that, but at this rate I’ll be able to start to put
back my savings I spent too.

“You wanna bowl?” she asks me.

“Bowl?” I ask her. “No way.”

She laughs. “Oh, come on. They won’t charge
us.”

She takes a key out of her pocket and sticks it
into the top of the lane we’re sitting at and the
screen pops up for us to type our names in. “Just
a few balls?” she asks me.

“Well,” I say. “Maybe a few.”

She laughs and types our names onto the screen.

Me and my dad used to bring Megan bowling all
the time. She would have to use the bumpers, but
it was still really fun. Of course when Rich came
into the picture I stopped going with them. Rich.
Thinking about him brings a pain to my heart.
And although working and running non-stop was
surely a distraction, the truth is that I’m still sad, I
still miss him. And suddenly my heart starts to
beat really fast in my chest because I realize I
haven’t checked my phone in hours and maybe,
just maybe, he called. But when I dig into my
pocket to check my phone the only texts are
from my mom. I feel sadness and dread creep
through my bones all over again.

“Hey!” Chelsea’s voice snaps me out of my
thoughts. “Come on!”

I look up and realize she’s already bowled a few
balls and I sigh, shoving my phone back into my
pocket.

“Okay, okay,” I say, grabbing a ball and pausing
a second before I roll it down the lane. I take a
deep breath, get my footing right, and release the
ball down the lane. Strike.

“And ladies and gentleman, she’s still got it,” I
announce, throwing my hands up in the air.

“Twenty bucks says you cant do that again.” The
voice belongs to a male and I swing around to
find Andrew’s blue eyes staring back at me.

Evan grins from beside him. “Twenty? Don’t be
cheap. Thirty says she can.”

Andrew rolls his eyes. “I wasn’t betting you. I
was betting Stephanie.”

Evan starts to get cranky. “You never let me
bet!”

Andrew shrugs. “That’s because you don’t have
a very good track record when it comes to
betting on things.”

Evan face starts to turn red and I see his hands
clench into fists by his side. “One time! And you
said that horse looked like a winner too!”

“No, what I said was we should do a little more
research before –”

“WE SAID WE’D NEVER SPEAK OF IT
AGAIN!” Evan screams and I see the woman on
the lane next to us shoot us a dirty look.

I grab a bowling ball and look quickly to make
sure the lane has reset before I close my eyes,
concentrate, and release again. Strike.

So here’s the thing. My dad’s a really good
bowler. Like, really good. He even had a perfect
game once -- he has a plaque for it and
everything. Ever since I was a little kid he would
take me bowling and teach me little tricks and
techniques. I’m still nowhere near as good as he
is, but I can usually get a decent amount of
strikes. When Megan was old enough we started
to take her every week with us.

It was never like my dad wanted us to be really
serious about it -- it was just something we could
all do together. But when Rich came along, family
bowling night disappeared from my list of
priorities.

I swing my body around to see the reaction
behind me.

“Okay. So Stephanie’s on my team,” Evan
announces, forgetting his tantrum for the moment.
“I’ll get you shoes!” He starts to run off.

Andrew’s staring at me and for a second I just
stare back, but Chelsea’s laugh tears me away
from his eyes.

“Now that,” se says, “was impressive.”

I shrug a little uncomfortably. “Lucky tonight, I
guess.”

“Right.” Chelsea pulls the clip out of her hair and
lets it flow down her back.

“You totally have to ditch Evan and be on our
team. They beat us every week.”

I follow Chelsea’s eyes down to a lane on the
other side of the bowling ally. I notice Evan’s
brother, Tom. I think he just graduated this year.
Next to him are Rachel and Mary White. I can
feel Mary’s eyes on me and suddenly I feel really
uncomfortable.

Things you should know about Mary White:

1) She’s a twin. (See previously mentioned

Rachel.) 2) She looks like something out of a
fashion magazine. Long legs, blonde hair, blue
eyes, flawless skin. Seriously she’s beautiful, and
she knows it. (I know this because one time I
heard her say, “Rachel you’re so pretty, so I
guess that means I’m so pretty right?” Then she
started laughing like she was soooo funny. Real
witty, that Mary.)

3) She has an off again/ on again relationship with
Andrew, and since she’s here bowling with him, I
would assume they are on again at the moment.

4) She does not like me. I know this because one
time in gym class when we were picking teams
for softball she said, very loudly, “Don’t pick
Stephanie, I don’t like her.” And that was that.

So as you can imagine, I’m less than thrilled
about the possibility of spending the night hanging
out with her. And judging by the nasty look she’s
shooting my way, I’m guessing the feeling is
mutual. Well, she has nothing to worry about.
She doesn’t have to remind me this is her world,
not mine -- I know that all to well.

I look to where Evan is standing up at the front of
the bowling alley then back to Andrew and
Chelsea. “I actually can’t tonight. I have
someplace to go.”

“Where are you going?” Andrew asks.

“Where?”

“Yes,” he says more slowly, almost smug.
“Where are you going?”

Shit. Why is he so nosy all of a sudden anyway?
I mean what does it matter to him where I’m
going or if I don’t feel like going stupid bowling
with him and his stupid girlfriend?

“Well,” I say, already starting to walk away, “I
don’t really have time to get into it, so okay, I’ll
text you later Chelsea, bye.” And then I run
away. Literally, I run across the bowling alley and
into the back room to punch out.

It’s not until I’m safely behind the counter and
near the time clock that I let myself relax a little.
Jeez. What is Andrew’s problem? First he calls
me out on my bowling, then he makes it out like I
don’t have anywhere to be. I mean, I could have
something really important that I’m supposed to
be doing. Who is he to say?

I’m just about to swipe my time card into the little
gray machine when I glance down and see it. The
pile of bowling shoes pilled in a huge mess in the
corner of the floor behind the counter, and I
almost look away, I almost get the hell out of
there and fast. But something stops me, and I
think it’s the vision of Chuck coming in tomorrow
morning and having to spend his morning sorting
through all these shoes again, or maybe its that
I’m honestly in no hurry to get home and have to
pretend to be so happy about my new job to my
family.

Whatever the reason, I find myself glancing down
the bowling alley, and once I see that Chelsea,
Andrew, and Evan are already bowling happily
and paying no attention to me, I curl up Indian
style on the ground and start to sort through the

shoes.

They really are a mess. Size sevens with size
tens. Size elevens with size fourteens. Men’s and
women’s shoes all mixed up. Some kids, some
adults. They really should have a better system
for sorting them.

I’m just finishing up and thinking that it didn’t
really take me as long as I thought it would when
Andrew’s voice takes me by surprise for the
second time that night.

“Well, well,” he says from the other side of the
counter, looking down at me.

“What do we have here?”

I shove the last pair of shoes into their slot, grab

my purse, and jump up. “Just finishing up.”

“Chelsea never does that,” Andrew says, folding
his arms across his chest.

I roll my eyes and start to walk around the
counter. “How do you know what she does?”

“Because I know,” he tells me matter-of-factly.

“Okay, so maybe she doesn’t, but I do.
Sometimes you do things, you know, just to be
nice. You should try it.” I walk past him toward
the sliding glass doors.

“Stephanie.”

I swing around.

“It’s just funny, you know, that you were in such
a hurry that you couldn’t even explain yourself,
yet you had time to stay and sort through a
million bowling shoes.” The expression on his
face is curious and it’s the last thing I see before I
swing around and stomp outside.

Andrew Collins is very annoying. I mean, clearly
he has issues. So what if he caught me in a lie?
Did he really have to call me out on it in the
middle of the bowling alley like a jerk? Why is it
any of his business if I didn’t want to go bowling?
Maybe bowling just isn’t my thing.

That’s the problem with guys like Andrew
Collins. He thinks just because he’s the most
popular boy in school that he can just get away
with whatever he wants, that he can just go

around talking to people any way he pleases, and
that they will listen. HAH!

Well, he’s in for a rude awakening because from
this point on I will not think about him and his
stupid perfect body that keeps popping up where
ever I am.

Doesn’t he realize some of us have bigger
problems, like um, hello, trying to get over a
broken heart? I’m telling myself how little I care
about what Andrew thinks about me and how I
can’t wait to erase him from my thoughts as I
walk into my first day of summer school.

Only it’s like the universe is laughing at me or
something because the first person I see when I
walk into my English class is Andrew’s best

friend, Evan.

Great. Just what I need. Okay this is so not a big
deal, I will just law low, sneak to the back, he
wont even see me if I just –

“STEPHANIE! YO, STEPHANIE, OVER
HERE!” Evan is practically jumping out of his
seat waving me over with his hands. Great, what
is he doing? Doesn’t he know I like to slip
through the cracks?

I see a few people shoot each other confused
looks, probably trying to figure out what Evan is
doing talking to me since he’s like way more
popular than I could ever dream of being. I
consider pretending I don’t hear, but he’s pretty
hard to miss so I force a smile and slowly walk

toward him.

“There she is!” he exclaims loudly as I sit down.
“The star of the bowling alley!”

People are looking at us for sure now and I
lower my voice, hoping he’ll follow my lead and
lower his.

“I wasn’t really a star- ”

“Not to mention you looked HOT!” he says, just
as loud as before.

I did? Well, I mean, it’s not wrong to be flattered
by a little compliment now is it?

That never hurt anyone.

I smile in spite of myself. “I did?”

“Totally.” Evan nods.

And then something awful happens. I catch
myself thinking, well, I wonder if maybe Andrew
thought I looked hot. And then I hate myself
because I know he didn’t. I know a boy like
Andrew doesn’t think girls who don’t look like
Mary are hot. And besides, I don’t even like
Andrew. Why would I care if he thought I
looked hot?

I’m still trying to convince myself of this when
Mary walks into the classroom a few minutes
later, sits down next to Evan, and shoots me a
dirty look. Great.

Luckily the teachers already there and Mary was

late so she doesn’t have a chance to hear
anything me and Evan are saying. The last thing I
need is more attention than I’m already getting
thanks to Evan.

The way summer school works at our school is
that you have the same teacher for both of the
classes that you fail. So since I failed math and
english I’ll take both of them back to back with
the same teacher, along with the rest of the kids
in the room. Which means Evan and Mary are
both in both of my summer school classes.

Which I wouldn’t care about except for that
Evan is acting like we’re best friends or
something. He keeps shooting me secret looks
and even started passing me notes! At first I
thought the notes must be something really

important or work related but all the first one said
was “hey.” That’s it. Just “hey.” Like he was
starting a conversation! I ignored the first one but
then a few minutes later he sent me another one
that said “Don’t ignore!” so then I started writing
back and before I know it we were having a full
on conversation.

And the thing was, it really wasn’t weird at all. I
would have thought it would be, but it’s really
easy to talk to him, I think because he’s so laid
back and really funny. If the teacher notices us
passing notes she doesn’t say anything. One
person who notices for sure though is Mary. I
know this because by the third note passed she
started making really annoying sighs and shooting
me daggers. What’s her problem? It’s not like I
passed the first note. Shouldn’t she be giving

Evan dirty looks?

I don’t know if it’s all the note passing or just
how nice our teacher is (no idea who she was
before this class, but she seems super nice and
funny), but the first day of summer school flies
by. Honestly, it’s, like, super quick. Lucky for
me Evan had to leave a few minutes early to drop
something off in guidance before they went home
for the day, so I don’t have to worry about
having a whole conversation with him after class.
I’m just gathering up my notebooks and the
textbooks I got today when Mary clears her
throat. I look up to find her icy glare less than a
foot away from me.

I sigh and take a step back to gain a little bit of
distance.

She just stares at me for a second before she
speaks. “Look, I don’t know if Chelsea’s lost
her mind for the summer or something but I just
want to make one thing clear; you aren’t
anybody’s friend so just slink back into whatever
hole you crawled out of and disappear again.”

I roll my eyes and step around her. “You can
relax, trust me. I have no desire to be a part of
your world, or to take away any of your friends.”

She laughs. “Don’t miss understand. You
couldn’t ever take anything from ME, you’re
more like an annoying bee that wont stop buzzing
in my ear that needs to be dealt with.”

But before I can answer she pushes past me and
out the door.

This whole situation has gotten out of control.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m totally grateful for what
Chelsea’s doing for me, but everything’s getting
all mixed up. This is exactly what happens when
people try to stray out of their element --
everybody gets pissed off.

Well no more. From now on, I will stay away
from the situation completely. I will talk to
Chelsea at work, nod hello to Evan in summer
school, and completely clear my mind from any
thoughts of Andrew Collins.

The truth is, that’s what I want anyway. I didn’t
sign up for any of this to make friends. I didn’t
even do it because I wanted to, I did it because I
had to. No more of their stupid games. I have
enough troubles on my own without their drama.

I’m trying to wonder if maybe I can talk to
Chelsea about telling Evan I’m not exactly
interested in making new friends at the moment
when I swing the doors to the school open and
stop dead in my tracks.

Because there, leaning against my blue Honda is
Evan. He looks really impatient and seems to be
tapping his hands against his knees in annoyance.
I’m just about to turn around and sneak back
into school but he spots me and his face lights up.

“Steph! Hey over here!”

I give a little wave and start to walk down the
sidewalk toward the other side of the parking lot.
I’ll just pretend that I have no idea what he’s
doing there, leaning up against my car. Maybe

he’ll think he got the wrong car. I’m sure there
are plenty of blue Hondas. At some point he’ll
for sure just get bored and –

“Where you going?” he screams. “Your car’s
right here! SEE, RIGHT NEXT TO

MINE!!!”

I glance over and notice a red jeep parked right
next to my car. Sigh. So much for ignoring him.
How does he even know what kind of car I
drive, anyway? Did he see me pull in this morning
or something?

I shrug and start to walk toward him.

“I’m starved, you down for Wendy’s?” he asks
me.

And everything in my head is saying make an
excuse, leave, go home. This is a very bad idea
and not the plan you have laid out for yourself.
Yet somehow, I find myself climbing into Evan’s
jeep with him anyway.

NOW

The thing about having a broken heart is this --
sometimes you don’t think you deserve to be
happy again. Sometimes your self- esteem has
been so beat down and so shattered that you
don’t feel like anyone else could really care about
you, because you don’t really care about
yourself. Sometimes you just want to be alone,
because you’re more content that way.

That’s how I felt. I felt like myself and everyone
else was better off if I was alone. Of course, the
problem with this is that you end up missing out
on things that could change you forever.

Looking back on it now I realize that I wanted to
be friends with Chelsea and Evan, and I wanted

to admit to myself that there was something about
Andrew Collins that really got under my skin, that
there was something about him I just couldn’t
allow myself to let go of.

Of course what we want to do and what we
actually allow ourselves to do are two completely
different things.

THEN

The next few weeks fall into a simple pattern.
Monday through Thursdays are reserved for
summer school in the mornings (although if you
ask my parents I’m taking a knitting class at the
local college; don’t even ask how I explained that
one) then Evan and me go and get lunch and
head to the bookstore where we order coffee
and do our homework together. Friday and
Saturday nights I work at the bowling alley, and
Sundays I relax at home.

There are good and bad things about my new
routine.

Good things about my new life:

1) I’m kicking ass in summer school. Honestly,
the lowest grade I got on a test was a 92 and all
my homework is always done. I hate to say it,
but summer school is kind of a joke, much easier
than regular school.

2) I’m making enough money to pay for summer
school and I still have enough left over to slowly
start repairing my savings.

3) Evan has started to become what I consider a
friend. I use the term “friend”

loosely because yeah, we hang out and do our
homework together, but we don’t hang out or
talk besides that.

4) Chelsea and I are getting along really well at
work, and she continues to be amazingly nice to

me. She has invited me out a few more times
after work but I always have an excuse ready as
to why I can’t.

5) I’ve managed to completely avoid Andrew
Collins. On the nights Chelsea mentions they are
going to bowl after work, I ALWAYS cut out
early.

Bad things about my new life:

1) I’m still lying to my parents about everything.

2) Mary stares me down every chance she gets,
and I’m starting to think that maybe soon it will
turn into something worse. I mean, if she doesn’t
stop soon her face might get permanently stuck
like that.

3) I’m still miserable about the Rich thing. I’m
definitely better than I was. I only cried twice this
past week, but I still feel like something isn’t right
with me. It’s almost like a numb feeling. I don’t
really feel the pain of anything anymore, but that’s
because I don’t feel anything at all.

One Thursday Evan and I are sitting in the
bookstore working on our homework and eating
lunch. I’m just tearing off a piece of my pizza
pretzel (for those of you who don’t know what a
pizza pretzel is, it’s this huge stuffed pretzel with
sauce and cheese inside all hot and delicious,
yum), when Evan slams his textbook shut and
sighs.

I jump a little and look at him. “Um, are we done
with homework then?”

He shrugs. “I’m sick of summer school.”

“We only have a few weeks left,” I remind him.

He scowls. Yikes, he looks like he might start to
throw one of his fits soon.

“It’s not even my fault that I’m in summer school,
you know? It’s Andrew’s. Did I ever tell you this
story?” he asks me.

I pause for a second before I answer because I
know I have to proceed very carefully. I have
heard this story, several times over the past few
weeks actually. That’s because whenever Evan
starts to get cranky about summer school he
starts to tell me about why he had to go to
summer school in the first place.

And if I don’t approach the topic very carefully
he gets very worked up and starts yelling and
usually starts texting Andrew telling him how he
made him go to summer school, and how
Andrew doesn’t even care.

Evan says he has to go to summer school
because the two classes he failed he had with
Andrew. He said it was very hard to concentrate
with Andrew always wanting to chat and “do
best friend things.” I almost point out that
Andrew didn’t fail those classes even thought he
had them with Evan, or that from the few times
I’ve seen them together it’s Evan who seems to
be the distracting one, but somehow I don’t feel
like this is a good idea.

“Well,” I say slowly trying to judge how serious

the situation is, “we all have to put up with things
from our friends when we care for them a lot,
right?” I tear off a piece of my pizza pretzel and
hold it out to him. “Want some?”

Evan loves food. He honestly must have tried like
everything they have on the menu here within the
last few weeks, and he swears everything is the
best.

He looks at the pretzel and considers this.

Then he quickly reaches out and takes it.
“Well… I guess you’re right.”

I nod.

“We do all have to put up with things from our
friends.”

I nod again. “Yup.”

“It doesn’t mean they don’t care about us.”

I continue to nod as I munch happily on my
pretzel. Tantrum avoided.

“I mean, I’m sure you and Emily have to put up
with things about each other.”

I nod again. “Absolutely we do, I mean – ” but
then I catch myself because I realize what he’s
just said. For the first time in a long time I don’t
feel numb and for a second, a split second,
there’s a shooting pain that comes right through
my chest. Then it’s gone again, and the same
cold empty feeling comes over me.

I force a half smile. “Me and Emily don’t really

talk much anymore.” And by much I mean, you
know, not at all. But he doesn’t need to know
that.

“You don’t?” he asks, and he looks shocked as
he says it. “But you guys were so close.”

“I know.” I say, nodding. Wait a minute, how
does Evan know that?

“Wait a minute, how do you know that?” I say
aloud.

Evan shrugs.“ You guys were always together in
school, plus you made the best peanut butter
cookies.”

I feel the same pain in my heart. Me and Emily
used to make these really good peanut butter

cookies from scratch. Both of our families were
obsessed with them and we would make like four
batches at a time because they were gone so fast
when ever we did make them. I had no idea how
Evan knew about them, though.

“How do you know about the peanut butter
cookies?” I ask.

He smiles “Are you kidding? One time Emily
brought a bag of them in for herself and she let
me try one, and after that she would always bring
me in a little bagful whenever you guys made
them.”

I didn’t even know Emily talked to Evan, and I
definitely didn’t know anything about her giving
him peanut butter cookies. But that is something

she would do -- Emily was always about making
other people happy.

I smile. “They were pretty good, weren’t they?”

“Totally.” He agrees. “That’s a shame…she’s a
really nice girl.”

I nod. “She really is.”

“So since we’re on the topic of friends…” he
starts.

“Oh, God,” I say. “What is it?”

He laughs. “Nothing bad, I’m just wondering
what the big deal is about me telling Andrew we
hang out.”

When me and Evan first started doing our
homework together, I asked him to not tell
Andrew about it. It’s not so much that I didn’t
want him to know, exactly. It was more that I
didn’t want to deal with the drama and questions
that would come with it. I knew Andrew would
probably ask a million questions about why Evan
would want to hang out with me or give him a
hard time about it. Not to mention Mary was
clearly completely crazy and the last thing I
needed was her finding out I was hanging out
with Evan and going all nuts on me.

Somehow I feel like telling Evan about the first
reason isn’t a good idea, so I decide to stick with
the whole Mary’s nuts reason.

“Well.” I say carefully. “No offense because I

know she’s your friend and all, but Mary made it
kind of clear that I should stay away from you
and Andrew.”

Evan nods. “She’s a little over protective.”

I roll my eyes. “Yeah ,just a little.”

“So you have a crush on Andrew then is what
you’re saying.”

“No! I didn’t say that at all!” I tell him quickly.

Where did he get such an idea from? I said
nothing of the sort!

“Its okay, you don’t have to be embarrassed.
I’m totally used to it.”

What does he mean used to it? And who’s
embarrassed? Not me, that’s for sure.

Since I don’t like Andrew!

“Used to what?” I ask him.

“All my friends liking Andrew. I mean, I don’t
know if you know this or not Step,” he says,
leaning in close to me like he’s going to let me in
on a really big secret,

“but he’s kind of the most popular kid in our
grade.”

Yeah, no kidding. It’s kind of hard to miss. But
all I say is, “Is he? I hadn’t noticed. Probably
because I don’t like him and all.”

“Oh.” Evan flips his textbook back open. “Of
course you don’t. But if you did, your secret’s
safe with me.” Then he shoots me a wink and
goes back to his homework.

I’m sitting on my bed later that night replaying
what Evan said over and over again when Megan
bursts into my room and slams the door behind
her.

“Megan-“ I start.

“Shh! Quiet! I heard mom say something about a
cleaning night!” She reaches up and locks my
bedroom door behind her. “But don’t worry,”
she announces, throwing her pink book bag up
onto my bed and unzipping it. “I brought us some
supplies to get us through.”

“Um, what sort of supplies?” I ask her.

“Well, for starters….snacks!” She starts to pull
out a bunch of food. Chips, candy bars, gummy
bears, cookies.

“What did you do, raid our kitchen?” I ask her.

But she just ignores me and keeps pulling things
out of her bag. I’m about to tell her not to eat on
the bed when my phone goes off, telling me I
have a new text message.

For a minute my mind races to Rich. I pick up
my phone. One new text, from Chelsea.

“Evan’s tonight? He’s having people over,” it
says. I sigh, then throw my phone down on my
bed without answering.

“Stephanie!” Megan pouts. “Are you even
listening to me?”

I look at her. “Look, this is nice but I’m not really
in the mood.“

She pulls a DVD out of her bag and starts
waving it around. “AND I brought Camp Rock
2: The Final Jam!”

Oh, great.

“Here’s a fun fact,” she tells me. “Demi Lovato
and Joe Jonas actually fell in love while filming
this movie.”

“Did they?” I ask, trying to figure out how to get
her out of my room.

“Yes, and everyone calls them Jemi but then they
had a break up and all the fans were devastated.”
She shakes her head sadly.

“What sort of break up?” I ask, interested in
spite of myself.

“Just didn’t work out, which is even worse since
they were friends for so long first. But she’s a
better person because of it. She’s very strong
you know, and very successful.”

“Um, didn’t she go to therapy?”

“Well sometimes you have to get help. Have you
thought of seeing someone?”

she says casually.

“Me?” I ask her, shocked. “Why would I see
someone? I’m fine!”

She sighs loudly. “I’m just saying if Demi can get
over Joe Jonas, one of the stars of the Disney
Channel, you can for sure get over what’s his
name.”

I look down at my blanket. “I don’t know what
you’re talking about.”

“I mean,” she continues, opening a bag of chips
and taking one out, “how do you think I felt when
my boyfriend cheated on me?”

I look up at her skeptically. ‘You got cheated
on?”

She nods as she munches away on a chip. “Yup,

everything was great. Or so I thought, until there
he was holding Jill Burns’s hand right in the
middle of the playground.”

“So what did you do?” I ask her.

She shrugs. “I was sad for a while but then I just
said ON TO THE NEXT ONE!”

“On to the next one?” I ask, a little taken aback

“Yup. ON TO THE NEXT ONE!”

“Sounds hard,” I say.

“At first, but whenever I get sad I just think of
Demi. And you should, too, because if she can
get over someone then you can, too.”

“Well,” I tell her honestly. “I guess that makes
sense.”

“Was he even that nice to you?” she asks me.

I think about it for a minute before I answer.
“No, I guess he wasn’t.”

She nods. “People are like dogs you know, they
treat you the way you train them to treat you.”

I’m reminded of how much I love my little sister
and I can’t help but smile at her.

“Megan Elizabeth!” a voice comes from the other
side of my bedroom door and I can hear my
mom trying to turn the knob. “I know you’re in
there!”

Megan gasps and jumps up onto the bed next to
me.

“I know you’re in there!” my mom says again.
“It’s time to clean your room!”

I glance at my sister and she shoots me a
pleading look.

“MEGAN!” my mom shouts.

“She’s not in here, Mom,” I say.

“Yes, she is! I saw her running this way just a
few minutes ago!”

“Nope, no one in here but me,” I say as Megan
moves closer to me.

“Then open up the door if she’s not in there,” my
mom says smugly.

“I can’t. I’m in the middle of something
personal.”

Megan giggles beside me and I put my finger to
my lips to signal her to be quiet.

“In the middle of what?” my mom says, trying to
turn the handle on my bedroom door again.

“If I told you, it wouldn’t be personal, now
would it?” I call out, shooting Megan a grin.

“Open the door!” my mom says.

I don’t answer.

“Stephanie?” she calls.

Silence.

“Don’t you ignore me!”

Megan and I are both giggling now, clasping our
hands over our mouths to try and muffle the
sound.

“Oh, just forget it.” She sighs and we hear her
start to walk back down the hall.

“Oh thank you!” Megan says happily. “Thank
you so much.”

“That’s what sisters are for,” I say, smiling.

“Now,” she says, very serious. “Are you ready

for an afternoon filled with Jemi?”

“Totally ready,” I tell her.

“Great!” she says, jumping up and running over
to my DVD player. And as she does I grab my
phone, hit reply, and send a text to Chelsea. “I’m
in.”

Then I slide my phone shut, grab a bag of
pretzels, get settled under my blankets with
Megan tucked safely next to me, and get ready
for the show.

NOW

Here’s the thing: sometimes it’s the person you
least expect who pushes you into doing
something. If Megan had never come into my
room that day, I never would have texted
Chelsea back. I would have rolled over and gone
back to bed or continued to feel sorry for myself
all night.

But that’s the thing about that moment when you
snap out of it. It can be the tiniest comment that
does it and it usually comes at the time you least
expect it.

THEN

The party is in full swing by the time Chelsea and
I pull up to Evan’s house later that night. The
driveway is completely filled with cars and
there’s about ten other cars parked up and down
both sides of the street.

“Um,” I say to Chelsea as we step out of the car
and start to walk across the street.

“I thought you said he was having some people
over.”

Chelsea takes her hand and smoothes down the
light blue dress she’s wearing. She looks amazing
as always. Her dress is paired with black high
heels and her hair is really curly and falling over

her face perfectly. She’s wearing this silver glitter
eye shadow and I swear she has on fake
eyelashes. I mean, there’s no way her eyelashes
can just be that beautiful on their own, right?

“He is.” She nods.

“When I think of having people over, I think of a
few, not the whole entire senior class.”

She rolls her eyes. “Don’t be dramatic.”

Suddenly, I’m really nervous. I didn’t know there
were going to be so many people here. Actually,
it’s not so much that there’s so many people, it’s
that they’re people I don’t really know. I mean, I
know them from school and stuff, but not on the
level that I would ever actually hang out with
them outside of school. I didn’t actually belong

with this crowd and I knew they would be really
surprised to see me here. I wasn’t sure what kind
of reaction I would get.

Chelsea must see the look on my face because
she places her hand on my arm.

“Hey, relax, okay? I’ll be with you the whole
time. Plus you look hot!”

I look down at my outfit and allow a half smile to
creep out. I’m wearing a black mini skirt and a
light pink shirt that ties across my stomach. I’m
even wearing these little black heels that I
borrowed from my mom (and when I say
borrowed, I mean, you know, took.) My hair is
straight again and I used the make up Chelsea
gave me to do my best

“night time” look.

“Besides,” Chelsea continues as we walk toward
the door. “Mary won’t be here.

She and her family went to Boston for the
weekend.”

I relax a little. At least I won’t have to worry
about running into her.

“It’s going to be great,” Chelsea assures me as
we step onto the porch.

The door swings open before we have a chance
to knock and Evan greets us with a huge grin on
his face.

“Alright!” he exclaims, clapping his hands

together. “My girls are here!”

Chelsea just shakes her head and pushes past
him. The second the door closes behind us I can
feel almost everyone’s eyes in the room on me. I
know right away what they’re all thinking -- what
the hell is she doing here?

If Evan and Chelsea notice people gaping at me
they don’t say anything and instead start steering
me through the crowd toward the couches in the
back of the room.

“You okay if I go grab us some drinks?” Chelsea
asks me once we’ve stopped moving.

“Of course she’s fine! I’m right here!” Evan
announces, throwing his arm around me.

Chelsea looks at me like ‘um, is this okay?’ I nod
and let her know I’ll be fine. I mean, it’s only a
few minutes.

“So,” Evan says once Chelsea has gone to get
the drinks and we’re alone. “Don’t worry, Mary
couldn’t make it tonight.”

I nod. “Yeah, Chelsea told me.”

“I’m surprised you agreed to come,” Evan says.

Ugh. I do not want to talk about why I’ve
avoided Evan outside of our homework sessions,
so I search for a subject change and fast.

“So where are your parents?” I ask quickly.

“Why?” he asks suspiciously. “What did you

hear?”

“Nothing, I was just curious.”

He narrows his eyes. “Because they dropped
those charges, you know.”

“What charges?” I asked, confused.

But Evan isn’t paying attention anymore. Instead
he’s staring across the room to where Andrew is
walking toward us. Andrew’s wearing faded blue
jeans and a dark blue button up shirt.

Evan turns back to me and rolls his eyes. “Don’t
look at him.”

“Okay,” I say, figuring it’s best to not ask
questions. But then Andrew is right next to me

and it seems kind of rude to just ignore him, so I
don’t really have a choice but to look at him.

“Hey,” he says, nodding at me.

“Hello,” Evan says before I have a chance to say
anything. “Did you come over here to say sorry?”

Andrew shakes his head. “Say sorry for what?”

“Don’t play stupid.” Evan says.

“For the last time,” Andrew says, rolling his eyes.
“I didn’t eat the rest of your sandwich.”

“It was in the fridge when you got here and was
gone by the time I got out of the shower so who
else would have taken it?”

“Evan,” Andrew says slowly. “If I ate it why
wouldn’t I just admit it?”

“JUST TELL THE TRUTH!” Evan says.

Andrew grins. “Maybe you ate it and forgot like
last time.”

Evan’s face starts to turn red and he looks at me.
“Stephanie, tell Andrew I’m not talking to him
until he apologizes for what he did to me.” And
then he stomps off, leaving me alone with
Andrew. Great.

“Andrew,” I say, “Evan is not talking to you until
you admit you ate his sandwich and apologize for
it.”

Andrew shoots me a half smile and shakes his

head. “I kind of got that.”

“Well,” I say, “In his defense, you should never
come between a person and their sandwich.”

“You heard me,” he says casually. “I didn’t eat
it.”

I roll my eyes “Oh, please. You ate it.”

He shrugs. “No, I didn’t.”

“Yes, you did.”

He pauses a second before he answers. “How
do you know?”

“Because,” I say, not meeting his eyes. “You like
getting under Evan’s skin.”

“Not really.”

“Yes, really.”

“How do you know what I do or don’t like?” he
asks with a curious look on his face.

I meet his eyes for the first time. “I just know.”

He studies my face for a second but before he
has a chance to say anything Chelsea is back
with two red cups in her hand.

“Here.” She hands one of the cups to me. “I
hope beer is okay.”

I nod. “That’s fine.” I’m honestly not a very big
drinker, never have been, but in social settings I’ll
have a little alcohol once in a while. I take a small

sip and cringe at the taste. I catch Andrew
muffling a small laugh and I shoot him a dirty
look.

“So,” Chelsea says, trying to sound a little too
casual. “Did you come with Brad?”

Andrew shoots her a grin. “Why? Were you
looking for him or something?”

Chelsea shakes her head and glances around the
room. “No. I was just wondering.”

She’s lying. I know because on the way over
here Chelsea was totally obsessing over the fact
that Brad Masini might be here. She was all like,
“Do I look okay?” and

“Should I go up to him or should I wait for him to

come up to me?”

Brad Masini is this kid in our grade with dark
black hair, tan skin, and a nice smile. I don’t
really know him but supposedly he’s this like
amazing football player or something. And
Chelsea seems to be obsessed with him. From
what I could gather she’s planning to finally
“make her move” tonight. Whatever that means.

“There he is!” Andrew says, pointing toward the
front of the room.

“Shh!” Chelsea slaps Andrew’s hand down.
“Don’t point!”

“You should go talk to him,” Andrew tells her.
“He asked me if you were coming.”

“He did not!” she says, a smile spreading across
her face.

“I swear he did.”

Chelsea looks from Brad to me a few times and I
can tell she’s torn because she wants to go talk
to him but she doesn’t want to leave me.

“Go ahead,” Andrew says. “Me and Stephanie
have to run to the store anyway.”

“You do?” Chelsea asks.

“We do?” I ask.

Andrew shakes his head. “Evan is almost out of
food and I can just see him blaming that on me,
too.”

Chelsea looks at me with a pleading look in her
eyes. And really, what can I say?

I mean, it’s not Chelsea’s responsibility to
babysit me all night. If she wants to go talk to her
crush she should be able to. So I nod to let her
know that it’s okay.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” she exclaims
and then she takes off.

“Come on,” Andrew says, starting to walk
toward the door. “My car’s out front.”

And I find myself following him.

Andrew’s car is, like, spotless. Rich’s car always
had fast food bags crowding the floors or papers
and trash on the seat. The second I step inside

Andrew’s car, though, I can tell he’s different. I
don’t even see a trace of dust anywhere.

He must notice me looking around because he
laughs out loud. “Something wrong with my car?”

I shake my head no. “It’s just really clean.”

“Oh, I get it,” he says, nodding. “You used to
date a guy who had a messy car, right?”

Ugh. He could honestly be the most annoying
person on the face of the earth.

Why does he have to assume that just because I
happened to look around his car it was because I
dated a guy with a messy car?

“No, actually, I didn’t.”

He smirks. “Seems like you did to me.”

“Well, I didn’t,” I say, sounding sure of myself
even to me.

“Whatever you say.” He turns the car on and
shifts it into drive.

I roll my eyes and reach over to turn the radio
on. He pushes my hand away playfully before I
have a chance to hit the power button and I
snatch my hand back.

“Oww!”

“Oh please,” he says, “that didn’t hurt.”

“Yes, it did.”

“No, it didn’t.”

“Yes, it did!” I tell him, even though it didn’t.
“You can’t tell me if something does or doesn’t
hurt.”

“Yes, I can, now put your seat belt on.”

I scowl but reach over and put my seat belt on
anyway.

“You’re really annoying,” I announce. “You find
something wrong with everything I do.”

“Well, I’m sorry you feel that way. Let’s have a
talk about it.”

A talk about it? He wants to have a talk about it?
No thanks. He’s just looking for an excuse to get

under my skin again. I think I’ll pass on that.

“Lets talk about why you always try to get under
Evan’s skin,” I suggest.

He chuckles. “I don’t try to get under his skin.
You just assume I do.”

“Oh, so we aren’t being honest with each other
then?” I shoot at him coyly.

He doesn’t say anything for a minute, as if he’s
thinking about what I just said.

Then he shrugs and starts to talk. “I don’t know.
It keeps things interesting, I guess. He’s been that
way ever since we were kids, picking stupid
fights with me. It’s just how we are. And yeah,
sometimes, not all the time, I do stupid things to

mess with his head, like eat his sandwich.”

I smile. “I knew you did it.”

He rolls his eyes. “Yeah, yeah. And I know what
you’re thinking, but Evan is actually a really good
friend.”

“What is it that I’m thinking?” I ask.

“You know,” he says as we pull into the parking
lot of the gas station up the street from Evan’s
house. “That he’s a lot to put up with.”

“Actually, I wasn’t thinking that at all.”

Andrew pulls the car into a parking spot and
turns off the ignition. “Really?”

“Really,” I say, opening my door. “I think he’s
nice. Why, is that what some of your other
friends think?”

Andrew nods and we start to walk into the gas
station. “Yeah, certain people give me a hard
time about it.”

And I know who he’s talking about without him
having to say anything else.

Probably people who he plays sports with or
people who hang out with Mary who think that
you can only be friends with certain types of
people. Just hearing about it makes me feel sick.

“Why do you have that look on your face?”
Andrew asks. We’re inside the store now and
Andrew’s filling his hands with different kinds of

chips, cookies, pretzels, and an enormous
amount of candy. He’s moving so fast that I’m
not even sure he realizes what he’s picking up.

“What look?” I ask as he picks up a bag of
peanuts and shoves them in my arms.

“That look like you’re going to throw up or
something.”

I shrug. “We just live in completely different
worlds, that’s all.”

He nudges me toward the counter. “Not really.”

“Yes, really,” I say, throwing the bag of peanuts
on the counter. “I mean, last time I checked no
one was allowed to give me any shit about my
friends.”

“Hey, there,” the girl behind the counter says,
looking directly at Andrew and completely
ignoring me. She’s younger, with short blonde
hair, way too much make up, and a shirt that
looks like something my little sister would wear.

Andrew smiles and the girl starts to scan the
items on the counter. “Someone’s having a party,
huh?”

I roll my eyes and Andrew shoots me a smirk.

“Not me.,” he says, looking at me out of the
corner of his eye. “My friend.”

“I like to party,” she says and then she winks at
him.

Literally, she winks at them. Um, really? Does

anyone even do that anymore?

Wink? I mean, honestly.

“I’ll be in the car,” I announce, and then I turn
around and walk out the door before either of
them have a chance to say anything. I’m leaning
against the passenger side of Andrew’s car when
he comes outside a few minutes later.

“Thanks for staying to help me carry the bags,”
he says, holding up two huge white bags that are
overflowing with snacks.

I shrug. “I didn’t want to interrupt.”

He reaches into his pocket and pulls out the
keys, then unlocks his car doors. “No need to be
jealous, Stephanie.”

I glare at him. “Please. I wasn’t jealous. I just
didn’t feel like sticking around to witness her
pathetic attempt at hitting on you.”

He drops the bags of snacks into the backseat,
and I slam the door shut behind me.

“Oh no,” he says, “you don’t sound jealous at
all.”

“Well, somehow I don’t think Mary would like
that,” I tell him smugly.

“Well, I don’t think she has a right to say
anything since me and her aren’t dating.” I roll my
eyes and he keeps talking. “And for the record,
no one gives me shit about who I’m friends with.
I talk to who I want, when I want, and I really
don’t care what anyone has to say about it.”

I don’t say anything, not because I don’t believe
him, but because I can’t help but wonder if that
applies to me. I wonder what his friends would
say if they knew he had invited me to the store
with him tonight. Or if Mary knew, what she
would say.

“I’m surprised you came tonight,” Andrew
breaks the silence as we creep closer to Evan’s
house.

I think about shooting a snotty remark his way or
turning it into a joke but for some reason I stop
myself. I think it’s because somehow I know that
he wouldn’t buy it or that it wouldn’t work the
way it did on Evan.

“I am, too,” I say softly as he parks on the side

of the road a few houses away from the party.

“It’s okay to allow yourself to have fun, you
know. Just every once and a while.”

He smiles and then he reaches into his pocket
and pulls out a pack of peanut butter cups and
holds them out to me. “Here.”

“How did you know they were my favorite?” I
ask, looking at his hands and not making any
move to grab the candy from him.

“You were eating them that night at the bowling
alley, right?”

And then I do something crazy. Maybe it’s
because I know I get these butterflies in my
stomach whenever he’s around, or maybe it’s

because for the first time in a long time I feel just
a little bit like myself again. It could be that I
can’t lie to him because somehow he can see
through me. Or maybe it’s just those damn
peanut butter cups that push me over the edge.

Whatever it is, I find myself throwing myself on
top of him and crushing my lips against his. Not
even because I want to, but because something
inside of me tells me I need to.

But what’s even more crazy is that his hands are
in my hair and he’s kissing me back. Andrew
Collins is kissing me back.

And it’s absolutely amazing.

So here’s the thing. Andrew Collins could be the
best kisser to ever walk the face of the earth. I

mean, not that I’ve kissed that many boys. Only
four to be exact, and one I don’t even remember.
Not because I was drunk or anything, but
because I was only seven and it was at my
cousin’s wedding. I don’t even know if I kissed
him for sure. My mom and dad just told me I did.
But that’s not the point. The point is that Andrew
is for sure the best kiss I’ve ever had.

It started off really intense, probably because I
pounced on top of him, but after a few minutes
we started to slow down and kind of set into a
rhythm. And then suddenly it would get intense
again. We didn’t stop making out. I mean, we
did, but not for, like, at least twenty minutes. And
that was only because Chelsea pounded on
Andrew’s car window and interrupted us.

“What are you doing?” she exclaims. “I’ve been
calling you! Evan’s parents came home and they
are pissed! We need to get out of here NOW!”

Then, before I have a chance to protest, she
swings open Andrew’s passenger side door and
grabs my arm, dragging me out of the car.
“NOW!” she says again. “They’re calling
people’s parents! Bye, Andrew, it was nice
seeing you.” And then she slams the door shut
and pulls me after her toward her car.

“What. The. Fuck. Was. That?” she asks me.

And all I can do is shake my head because I
don’t know what it was.

And now it’s the next morning, and I’m laying in
my bed thinking about it, and I still can’t figure it

out. I mean, what was I thinking just throwing
myself at him like that?

I have no idea what came over me, no idea what
I was thinking.

Andrew and I are from completely different
worlds. It would never work. Not to mention I’m
not the type of girl who just goes around kissing
boys randomly. And Andrew Collins of all
people! I don’t even like him! He drives me
absolutely crazy.

Not to mention the whole Mary situation. Ugh,
how could I be so stupid? I mean, he said they
weren’t dating, but who really knows? If they
really were he wouldn’t have kissed me back,
right? Unless he’s that much of a jerk.

The whole situation is starting to drive me a little
crazy. So I decide right then and there to forget
that it happened, because I already knew how it
would end. With Andrew back with Mary, and
me making a fool of myself. Might as well save
myself the trouble.

NOW

The thing about a broken heart is that sometimes,
even if there’s something that starts to make you
happy again, something that starts to make you
feel like maybe you’ll be okay again ---well,
sometimes you don’t think you deserve to have
it. Sometimes you feel like you should still be
miserable. But mostly you’re just really scared of
it, so you push it away. You push it down deep
into the bottom part of your soul and make
yourself forget that it was ever there to begin
with.

THEN

I don’t hear from or see Andrew for a week and
a half after the night we kissed.

Which is just fine with me. It’s not like I expected
him to call me or anything, I don’t think he even
has my number. I come to the conclusion that he
must feel the same way I do about that night --
that it was a horrible mistake.

I’m almost beginning to wonder if maybe I’d
dreamed the whole entire thing when there he is.
Andrew, I mean. He’s just standing down at the
other end of the bowling alley with Evan, getting
ready to bowl. He’s early too, because I always
make sure I’m gone by the time they get here.

Seeing him makes me realize that there’s no way
I could have possibly imagined what happened
between us, because a feeling of dread washes
over me.

“Have you talked to him since that night?”
Chelsea asks, coming up beside me.

I shake my head no and she sighs. “What are you
going to do?”

I look at her and then I start gathering up the
plates and empty beer bottles left behind on lane
twelve. “I’m going to finish clearing these tables,
then I’m going to count my drawer out, and then
I’m going to head home for the night.”

Chelsea frowns. “No, I mean what are you going
to do about Andrew?”

I shrug. “Nothing.”

“Nothing?” she asks. “You can’t just do
nothing.”

“Sure I can,” I say.

Chelsea doesn’t say anything and for a second I
think maybe she’s mad at me but when I turn
around I see why she got so quiet. Andrew’s
walking right toward us. I’m about to make a run
for it when Chelsea swoops in grabs the plates
out of my hands and announces she’s taking them
to the kitchen for me. Then she runs off.

I have no choice but to stay put -- if I move now
it will be totally obvious that I’m taking off just
because he’s coming over. He’s wearing a pair
of khaki shorts with a dark green polo. His hair is

sticking up a little in the front and I feel my
stomach start to flip as he gets closer to me.

“Hey,” he says.

“Hi,” I say, turning around and starting to wipe
off the table.

“How have you been?”

“Fine. I mean, good. Or great. Actually, I’ve
been great.” I’m totally babbling.

“Um, okay.” He sounds unsure. “So I was
hoping you’d still be here.”

“Why?” I ask, turning around to look at him.

“Well,” he says looking me in the eye. “I thought

you might want to talk or something.”

He thought I might want to talk? Is he kidding?
Talk about what? How I completely threw myself
at him and made a fool of myself? No thanks.

“What do we have to talk about?” I ask,
shrugging.

He looks a little taken aback. “Um, I don’t
know…”

“Well, have fun bowling,” I say and start to walk
away.

“Yeah, thanks,” he says, and for a second I think
I got away with it , for a second I think I’m in the
clear. But then I hear his voice. “You’re
unbelievable.”

And when I turn around the look on his face is
one that’s filled with anger. Yikes.

“How’s that?” I ask slowly.

“Well,” he says in a snotty tone. “Who jumps on
top of someone one night in a car and then wants
to pretend it never happened?”

I frown. “It’s not that I want to pretend it never
happened. I just don’t think there’s any point in
talking about it.”

He shakes his head and starts to back away from
me. “You know what?

Whatever, Stephanie. If you want to continue to
live in your little fantasy world go ahead, ‘cause
I’m done trying to break through.”

Wow, my little fantasy world? Is he kidding?

“My little fantasy world? Okay, Andrew,
whatever you have to tell yourself.”

“I don’t tell myself anything,” he snaps. “You
walk around choosing to shut everyone out, you
act like you could care less what anyone thinks,
when inside you’re screaming to talk about what
you really feel. You hide out with Evan during the
week making him not tell anyone, because God
forbid anyone thinks you actually have a friend.
So what do I think, Stephanie? I think I feel bad
for you.”

He feels bad for me? Bad for me? Is he kidding?
I don’t need sympathy from anyone, especially
not him.

I laugh out loud. “You feel sorry for me? Oh,
give me a break. You don’t have to feel sorry for
me. Is that why you kissed me back? Because
you felt sorry for me? Oh, poor Stephanie, the
sad girl who walks around all day with a book
and who’s such a loser that she throws herself at
your perfect self so that she’ll feel something
again, right?

Well, don’t worry, Andrew, no one will find out
about the other night. I can’t wait to forget it
myself.”

He walks slowly toward me and places both of
his hands on my shoulders. “I didn’t kiss you
back because I felt bad for you, and I could care
less about who finds out.

I feel bad for you because someone fucked with
your head so bad that you’re too scared to let
anyone in who might just give you something to
be happy about. Even if they’re right in front of
you, looking you in the eye, you can’t do it. “
Then he drops his hands and shakes his head.
“And that’s just sad.”

He turns around and walks away, leaving me
standing there alone with nothing left to do but
watch him go.

By the time I get home and walk into my house
I’m crying. I feel like I can’t breath and like my
heart might explode in my chest. He has no idea
what he’s talking about. I’m not scared of
anything. I keep my distance from people
because I like being alone. I like things less

complicated. He can’t tell me who I am. He
doesn’t even know me.

“Stephanie?” my mom says, getting up from
couch as I burst through the door into the living
room. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” I say, trying to push past her toward
my room. All I want is be alone, to go in my
room and shut the door and never come out.
“I’m just tired.”

“No,” mom says, not letting me past her.

“Just leave me alone, Mom, please just leave me
alone.” I try to push away from her but she grabs
me and pulls me into her arms.

“Please,” she says. “Please let me help you.”

And for the first time in a long time, I do. I let her
help me. I let someone help me.

I tell her everything. I tell her about what Rich did
to me, about how I wasted all my money on him,
how he shattered me. I tell her about summer
school and my job at the bowling alley. I tell her
how horrible I was to Emily, and I tell her about
Chelsea and Andrew. About what happened
with Andrew and about what he said to me
tonight. But mostly I tell her about how empty I
feel, and about how awful I feel about myself.

My mom doesn’t interrupt me, she lets me talk
and get everything out. Everything that I have
been holding onto for months, and when I’m
done talking she takes me over to the couch and
I curl up next to her with her arms around me.

Even though I know I let her down, even though
I know I let everyone down, it feels so good to
finally tell someone, to finally say everything out
loud. Sometimes you can only hold things in for
so long before you reach a breaking point.

After a few minutes of silence except for my quite
sobs, my moms pulls away and looks at me. “So
what are you going to do about it?”

“About which part?”

My mom thinks for a second. “All of it.”

“There’s nothing I can do.”

My mom smiles. “Of course there is. People
mess up all the time. It’s how you fix it that really
matters. Besides, you’ve already started.”

Is she crazy? I’m sitting here crying my eyes out.

“No, I haven’t, Mom.”

She looks at me seriously. “Although I don’t
approve of how long you dragged out the lying,
you did pay for your own summer school. You
have been doing well with that.”

“Dad’s going to flip out.”

She nods. “Probably. But being mature is about
dealing with the consequences of your actions.
Stephanie, your world isn’t over because you lost
a guy. Your happiness doesn’t depend on one
person. I know it doesn’t seem like it, but I
promise you this is a very, very small piece of
who you are.”

“Mom,” I say. “I want to be okay again.”

“Then let’s make a plan about how we’re going
to get you there.”

And so we do.

It’s been a few weeks since that night at the
bowling alley with Andrew, and I haven’t talked
to him since. I haven’t talked to Chelsea either,
or spent any time with Evan after summer school.
After that night, my mom thought I needed a little
bit of time off from everything except for school
to get things in order. So she called the bowling
alley and told them I needed a few weeks off,
and told me I was only allowed to go out for
school.

When we told my dad about what happened he

was really mad at first, but after a lot of talking he
finally calmed down. They agreed that I should
have to pay for summer school myself since it
was my fault that everything got so far out of
hand. My parents agreed to let me try to earn
their trust back again, but I know it will take a
while since I was lying to them for so long.

I also started seeing a therapist a few times a
week, but eventually when things calm down my
dad says I can slow down to a few times a
month. I never thought I would need therapy, but
sometimes life throws things at you that you just
don’t know how to deal with on your own. The
therapist is actually really nice and I already feel
better this week then I have in a while.

Me and my parents put together a budget for me,

started looking at colleges, and we talked.
Talked about everything. It was nice, but there
were still things left that I needed to take care of,
things I still needed to make right. There were a
lot of things I’d realized these past few weeks,
but I was still really scared of the things I still had
to fix, because let’s face it -- knowing you have
to do something doesn’t make it easy.

I’m telling myself this as I pace back and forth in
front of the bowling alley exactly two weeks
later. I’m telling myself the hardest thing and the
right thing are the same, but it isn’t exactly doing
anything for the huge rock of nerves rolling
around in my stomach.

Everyone I need to talk to is less than a hundred
feet away, everything I have to do tonight is here

and now, and that thought is a lot to handle at the
moment. I run my hands through my hair and
remind myself to breath, and then I gather up all
the courage I can and start to walk inside.

Chelsea and Evan are standing up at the register
laughing about something and I relax a little
because Andrew isn’t anywhere in sigh. It might
be a little easier to talk to the two of them without
Andrew around, at least at first.

“Hey,” I say, walking up to them.

“Stephanie!” Chelsea says, pulling me into a hug.
“Where have you been? I called you like a million
times! You are not going to believe what
happened to me! Brad totally asked me out!”

I grin at her. “That’s great, Chelsea, really great.

I’m happy for you.”

“Thanks. I have to tell you exactly how it
happened. So there I was, just minding my own
business and –“

“What about me?” Evan says, interrupting her.

Chelsea shoots him a dirty look. “What about
you?”

“Well, maybe Stephanie wants to hear about
what’s been going on with me.”

“But she sees you everyday in summer school,”
Chelsea points out.

“Yes, but I have a very exciting life. New things
are always happening that I need to tell people

about right away.”

Chelsea laughs. “That’s ridiculous, you do not –”

“I totally want to hear all about everything that’s
going on with both of you,” I say, interrupting
them. “But can I talk to you guys for a second
first?”

They both stop and look at me.

“Sure,” Chelsea says. “Is everything okay?”

I nod. “Yeah, I just …Chelsea, I just wanted to
thank you for everything you’ve done for me this
summer. You didn’t owe me anything that day in
the hall at school, in fact you barely even knew
me. But you helped me sneak into summer
school, you got me this job, and I’m really

grateful.”

“YOU SNUCK INTO SUMMER SCHOOL?”
Evan asks, practically screaming.

Chelsea ignores him. “Oh, Steph, you don’t have
to thank me. I wanted to do it, all of it.”

“Still,” I say. “You didn’t have to and I just
wanted you to know I feel really lucky to have
you as a friend.”

She smiles, then pulls me in for another hug.
When I pull back I turn my attention to Evan.
“And Evan, you wanted to be my friend without
any questions asked, with no restrictions, and in
the most non-selfish way ever, and I repay you
by making you lie to people about us hanging out.
It was a really selfish thing to do and I’m sorry.

My only defense is that for a while I was too
scared to allow myself to have friends again.

But that doesn’t make what I did to you right. So
I’m really, really, sorry and I hope you can
forgive me.” I bite my lip and wait for his
response.

He grabs me and pulls me into a hug. “That was
beautiful,” he says. “Just beautiful.”

“Oh, jeez,” Chelsea says from beside us.
“You’re gonna make him cry.”

“Come here, Chels,” Evan says, grabbing her
arm. “Group hug time!”

And to my surprise, Chelsea lets him pull her
toward us and that’s how we all stay for a

minute, hugging in the middle of the bowling alley
with people walking all around us. And you
know what? I don’t even care, because they’re
my friends. They truly are.

When we all finally break apart, I let out a little
sigh and try to sound casual as I ask if Andrew’s
there.

Evan nods and points to the other side of the
bowling alley. “Down there.”

I turn around to look where he’s pointing and my
heart falls in my chest when I do. Because
Andrew’s not alone. Standing next to him,
cheering him on as he bowls, is Mary. I don’t
move for a second, and I’m not sure how I’m
going to, but I know that somehow I have to.

“Maybe right now isn’t the best time to try and
talk to him,” Chelsea says to me.

She’s right. I could turn around and run out of
here. I could take what I said to Chelsea and
Evan and call it a night. But that’s something the
old me would do, the me who didn’t want to
allow herself to feel anything. So I push the doubt
out of my mind and shake my head.

“No. It has to be now.” And then without
another word I start to walk toward him.

With each step I take, I start to feel more and
more nervous, and by the time I reach him I feel
like I might pass out.

“Hey,” I say, just as he picks up the bowling ball
to roll it down the lane again.

“Can I talk to you for a second?”

“No,” Mary says behind me in a snotty tone.
“Actually, you can’t.”

Andrew’s eyes meet mine, and for a second I
think he’s going to say yes, I think he’s going to
come with me somewhere so he can hear what I
have to say. But then he shakes his head.

“It’s not really a good time, Stephanie.” And then
he turns around and gets ready to release the
ball. I sigh and turn around and start to walk
away, and as the bowling ball makes contact with
the pins, I hear Mary start to jump up and down
clapping for him.

I stop. I stop dead in my tracks. Because I didn’t
come this far for nothing. I didn’t come this far to

turn around and go home without even saying
how I feel. I turn around and I walk back up to
them, so close that there’s barely any distance
between Andrew and me.

“Fine,” I say. “You don’t have to talk, you can
just listen.”

Andrew looks a little taken aback. “Look,
Stephanie –”

“No, you look,” I say, cutting him off. “You were
right, okay? I was scared – no, I was terrified. I
was so hurt by someone from my past that I
didn’t think I could ever be happy again. I was
scared to even try. But you made me realize that
maybe that’s not a way to go through life, you
made me realize sometimes its okay to need

people. I’m trying to say I like you, Andrew. I
really like you.”

Mary laughs next to me and I turn to her. “Shut
up, Mary.” She looks shocked for a second and
then she shuts her mouth. “I’m sorry for the way
I acted, I am. But you knew me, even when I
tried to hide and maybe I ruined my chance,
maybe it’s too late but I just--”

“Stephanie,” Andrew says, cutting me off. “Stop.
Just stop.”

His eyes are glued to mine and I can feel my
body going numb at the thought of him walking
away and never looking back.

“You know what I did the past few weeks?” he
asks me. “I tried to forget you. I tried to push

you out of my thoughts and pretend I didn’t care
if you were getting in the way of your own
happiness.”

I look down at my feet.

“But I couldn’t,” he tells me. “No matter how
hard I tried, I couldn’t get you out of my
thoughts, and so I’ve come to the conclusion that
you’re supposed to be there. You drive me
crazy, you know that?” he asks me. “I like you,
too.”

And then in one swift movement he’s kissing me.
Right there in the middle of the bowling alley with
everyone watching, Andrew Collins is kissing me.
I hear Mary gasp beside us, but we don’t stop
kissing for what feels like forever, and when we

finally break apart she’s gone.

“I’m sorry I lost myself for a while,” I say.

He pushes my hair behind my ear and smiles. “Its
okay. You’re here now.”

And then we kiss again.

I grip Andrew’s hand tight and sigh. “I’m really
nervous.”

“I know.” He nods. “But I also know this is the
right thing.”

“What if she slams the door in my face?”

“Then we’ll try again.”

I smile. “Thanks for coming with me.”

“Of course. Want me to come up with you or
wait in the car?”

I stop and think about it for a minute. It would
definitely be easier with him by my side, but I got
myself into this mess. I’d been the one to treat
Emily the way I had, so it was up to me to fix it.
And that was something I needed to face alone
and on my own terms.

“No.” I shake my head. “I should do this alone.”

He nods. “Okay. I’ll be here.” He squeezes my
hand and I lean in and brush my lips against his.
A flash of heat runs through my body and I smile.

“You’re still coming bowling with me and my

family tonight, right?” I ask.

“Of course. I wouldn’t miss it.”

I smile and let myself relax. “Okay, I’m ready.”

I step slowly out of the car and start to walk
toward Emily’s house. I know she’s home
because her grey Honda is parked in the
driveway. With each step up her sidewalk my
heart starts to beat a little faster in my chest. This
isn’t just anyone. Emily knew me better than
anyone else did at one point, and the more I
thought about it lately, the more I realized how
much I missed her.

I knew I had really hurt her and I could only pray
that she would at least hear me out. I’m carrying
a plate of peanut butter cookies in my hand.

Andrew had come over that morning to help me
bake them. After stopping at Evan’s to drop
some off, we had come straight here.

Waiting for the door to open after I ring the bell
feels like an eternity. When it finally does open,
Emily’s on her cell phone and the second she
sees me the smile that’s on her face vanishes and
is replaced by one of pure shock.

“I’m going to have to call you back,” she says to
whoever’s on the other line.

Then she flips it shut and looks at me, not saying
anything.

“Hi,” I say slowly.

“Hey,” she says in a voice not much louder than a

whisper.

“I know you probably hate me, and I don’t
blame you, I really don’t.”

“I don’t hate you, Stephanie. I don’t even know
what happened between us.”

“Can I come in? And just start to explain?” I ask
her.

She doesn’t say anything and I hold the plate of
cookies out to her. Her face softens and sadness
fills her eyes.

“Peanut butter?” she asks.

I nod. “I know it can’t make up for what I did to
you, but it’s a start.”

After a minute she takes the cookies and steps
back from the door. “Yeah, it’s a start.”

I step inside and she shuts the door behind us.

NOW

So how do you heal a broken heart? How do
you get over someone? The answer is the one
that, most of the time, people don’t want to hear.
The real answer is time, combined with a million
other little things. You allow yourself the time to
be okay again.

You remind yourself that it’s okay to be sad
because you lost something you cared deeply
about. You can’t let that sadness consume you
though; you can’t let it take over who you are.
The second you do, you miss out on so much.

Don’t keep everything to yourself; don’t be
ashamed or embarrassed to talk to people,
because I learned that everybody has gone

through this at one time or another. I learned that
just because one person doesn’t want you, it
doesn’t mean that your world is over.

Of course it’s hard to see all of this until you’re
out of the situation. One day you wake up and
they aren’t the first thing you think about
anymore, one day you wake up and realize that
you have to love yourself before you can really
love anyone else.

The hardest part though, is feeling like you have
no one, like no one understands.

It’s the feeling that everyone else is okay and
you’re never going to be. The truth, though, is
that it gets better. The truth is that with just a little
bit of hope, it gets better. I promise.

And don’t forget to look for WHAT’S
MEANT TO BE, by Kels Barnholdt,
available now on Kindle and Nook