CHAPTER SIXTEEN
JOURNALISM? IS THAT WHAT THEY'RE CALLING IT THESE DAYS?
FELIX
I could hear a record scratch sound in my head.
Yep. That's me. You're probably wondering how I got myself into this situation.
I had never been a big fan of shopping. My entire family loved it, but even they wrinkled their noses at the most mainstream stories, which couldn't offer them the professional, expensive attire they loved so much. They'd be caught dead before being spotted in an H&M store.
What I was a fan of, however, was a good, provocative article for my newspaper. Therefore, when Georgina pitched the idea for a column on fast fashion for our December edition, right before Christmas, I knew that was the best thing anyone in that room could have said.
The November edition had sold reasonably well, better than everything we had put out since January, but we all knew the reason. I wasn't going to keep exploiting June's death to boost our sales, as it made me feel horrible—both by hurting June and by taking advantage of Sofia's own mourning period. I'd tried to apologize to her multiple times, but she refused to talk to me almost as much as she refused to look at me, so things could definitely be going better.
No one needed to point fingers at me. I knew just how badly I had messed up and I was determined to make it better any way I possibly could, but people also had to give me the opportunity to do so.
Georgina was a good distraction. I had tagged along to help her with her column, even though I wasn't that big of a fan of fast fashion myself and hanging out in a mall instead of supporting Grace during an ice-skating competition went against my 'trying to be and do better' plan. It wasn't like Georgina needed me that badly, but, considering she kept alienating herself by gossiping about other people on social media, I kind of felt like it was my duty to not let go of her hand.
I was the editor-in-chief of the newspaper. That meant I had to accept the fact that I was the leader of an entire team, made up of people who needed me and my guidance in one way or another, and it was time for me to do my job properly.
Then, I saw her.
Xena was at the mall, something her fashion designer mothers probably wouldn't approve of (unless she made her way inside one of the designer stores), and her posse followed everywhere. They were all there, except for Grace, which was suspicious enough on its own, as they'd probably had done what I hadn't and watched her compete. Leon was there as well, all battered and bruised.
They didn't see me, even though we were all standing in the middle of a crowded H&M. Georgina blabbered about some nonsense that had nothing to do with the article and more with how lonely she felt and all that, while I didn't have the heart to tell her that she had sort of brought that upon herself.
All the drama surrounding Leon and his possible involvement in June's death was slowly simmering down, meaning people at school were losing interest in that theory, and all of Georgina's efforts of reporting the latest news about it had been for nothing. She complained about losing followers, about feeling alienated in her own community—whatever it was—but she should have known it was a hit or miss situation. It would never bring her any happiness in the long run, as it was the case with gossiping in general, so I couldn't understand why she had done what she did.
I wasn't Leon's biggest fan, but even I had to admit there was no way he'd kill or hurt June. I had jumped into the 'let's blame Leon for everything' bandwagon based on circumstantial evidence along with everyone else, like Courtney had pointed out that day. We were supposed to be on June's side, and she would have wanted us to stick together instead of constantly fighting.
Needless to say, she probably wouldn't be too thrilled if she knew about the decaying state of our friendships.
"You're not listening," Georgina complained, at one point.
"Huh?" I blabbered, looking away from Xena. It was a considerably hard feat, as her presence in the store was magnetic, urging me to make my way towards her no matter how much I tried to stay where I currently was. "I'm listening. Go on."
Georgina huffed, returning a leather jacket back to the hanger it had been hanging from, and placed a hand on her hip, defying me. "Yeah? Then what was I talking about?"
Truthfully, I had no idea, but I had a faint hunch. After all, it was still Georgina.
"It was probably something about how miserable you are," I risked saying. Her nostrils flared, but, in spite of being hit by a momentary spark of guilt, I knew I wasn't wrong. There were three things in this world Georgina loved more than anything: herself, gossiping, and writing. The school newspaper had provided her with the perfect conditions to successfully bring those three things together, as it allowed her to write about other people's lives and bask in the shade of all the praise thrown her way. "I suppose I was distracted. What was it, again? Was it something about my friends?"
"Leon's your friend?"
"What has Leon ever done to you, anyway? I highly doubt the police still think he's guilty; if they did, he wouldn't be hanging around commoners in H&M. We're here because you wanted to write about consumerism during the holiday season, not to gossip about my friends to get privileged information about June so you can tweet about it and restore your following."
Georgina threw her arms around my neck before I could do anything else. "See? You understand. We really are kindred souls."
I furrowed my brows. "I'm not following."
"Let me make it clear to you, then."
She pressed her lips against mine, slipped her tongue inside my mouth, and I was too shocked to react properly.
I should have done what anyone in my situation would have done—push her away, explain I didn't like her that way (or even at all, really), and tell her she should write the column without my help or input. Instead, I stood there, like a goddamn statue.
When she stepped away from me, radiant, I caught a glimpse of Xena I wished I hadn't. She was fuming, shoving people out of the way, and the group followed her, with Sofia stomping her feet behind them.
She even had enough time to murder me with a mere glare, whereas all I could do in response to that was gulp like a child who had just gotten caught doing something they shouldn't. I knew her opinion of me wouldn't change overnight—after all, she'd been painting me as the villain ever since Thanksgiving and I couldn't exactly blame her for that—and knowing they'd all seen what happened didn't suggest a bright future for all of us.
When I was finally thinking clearly, not blinded by regret, I turned to Georgina.
"What the hell?" I snapped. "Why did you do that?"
"I was trying to explain why we're kindred souls," she argued, while I had never been more confused in my life. "Was that so wrong?"
"You can't just go around and kiss people without their consent, Georgina, no matter what 'vibe' you might be getting from them. That's messed up."
Her eyes narrowed. "Guys do it all the time, but when a girl does it, suddenly it's 'messed up'?"
"It's never okay! That's the point I'm trying to get across!" My hands flew up to my head in frustration and I marched out of the store, not wanting to cause a scene. Georgina reluctantly followed me, dragging her feet, and my blood boiled in my veins with each step I took. I saw Xena everywhere I looked, even though she wasn't around. "I don't think this is working. I think the only reason you wanted me here was to see if I'd let something slip, something you can use for your own personal gain. What are you going to tell people? That we're a couple? That you snagged the editor-in-chief? That you helped me push Sofia to a breaking point?"
She pointed her index finger at me. "That was all you, Felix—you, your ambition, and your inability to care about anyone other than yourself when your success and your popularity might be at risk. I didn't force you to make Sofia write the memorial article. Don't try to pit this on me."
"Maybe it was, but it doesn't mean I can't make things right. I can't make things right when you're around me, constantly looming around in search of the next piece of gossip, poisoning everything."
Georgina squared her shoulders. "Then what? You can't get rid of me."
"Except I can." I fixed the lapels of my jean jacket. "You're off the team, effective immediately. I'll be writing your goddamn column myself."
Her mouth dropped open, and it could be almost comical. "You can't do that."
"Watch me."
SOFIA
"Journalism? Is that what they're calling it these days?" Courtney scoffed, slumped on a beanbag chair in my bedroom. She flipped through the December edition of the school newspaper, which we were still printing for whatever reason, even though most people read the digital version of it. "Jesus. Felix really went all out."
I found myself strangely amused by everything.
It had been an embarrassingly long while since the last time I laughed with a girl friend—I certainly hadn't done so ever since June died—and it made me wonder why I kept gravitating towards the men in my life.
Paul had always been warmer than my mom; not that she wasn't supportive, as she had tried to pitch the therapy suggestion to me in a more affectionate manner than she had initially mentioned to him that one time. There was something about him that told me he'd understand and, even if he didn't, he wouldn't treat me like an alien or like a stranger living under his roof.
Then, there was Meridian, but we weren't speaking to each other. His number was still blocked, and he had made no attempts to contact me or visit my house. I knew he had moved back into his dorm room, which meant I wouldn't see him nearly as often as I had been. Even though I should see it as a good thing, a sign we could heal without using each other as crutches, I missed him terribly.
I wasn't speaking to Felix that much, either. I was still hurt by that miserable stunt he had pulled during Thanksgiving and my female solidarity towards Xena didn't allow me to accept his apologies. Her quiet rage and broken heart meant more to me than my stupid pride and that stupid newspaper.
Maybe my priorities were misplaced, but the exact same thing could be said about Felix.
He kept preaching about wanting to make things right and, to him, that meant following me around just to shower me with apologies I shouldn't even need in the first place. I wasn't going to be treated as a goddamn tragedy, especially not after what he had made me do; I was so embarrassed over that article I had to force myself to ignore the Beaumonts whenever we ran into each other, out of fear they had read it and had suddenly developed a new hatred for me.
After all, I had also stopped talking to their only living son. I'd failed to help their daughter. How couldn't they not hate me?
"He did the right thing, I think," Courtney continued, after a prolonged silence coming from me. I hummed. "Our boy really exposed Georgina to the entire school. Ambitious, yet calculating and cunning; popular, yet unable to form meaningful relationships based on mutual trust. Secrets and expensive gifts don't hold friendships together—love does. Maybe that's something to keep in mind during this holiday season; instead of buying your friends a Giorgio Armani dress, try to be there for them when they need you. Maybe we can be better people, after all. I mean, wow." She set down the newspaper. "At least he's trying, which is a good thing, I suppose. He could have chosen to ignore all the red flags and kept being a jerk to his actual friends."
"I suppose," I echoed, pulling my knees close to my chest. I had invited her over to study, as it had been a long while since the last time the two of us had spent quality time together, just the two of us, and I thought about why that was.
June had always been my main priority in our group of friends, but I was beginning to realize it seemed like she was the only thing I cared about. Sometimes I forgot why all of us were friends, as it felt like we barely had anything in common and the main aspect that had been holding us together died two months ago.
They weren't necessarily friendships built out of convenience, as I was sure we genuinely enjoyed spending time together, but there were times when I felt so horribly lost, unsure of who to turn to now that June was no longer here. I wasn't trying to replace her, even if I missed having a female figure in my life I could unconditionally trust.
Then, there was Courtney. She'd always been there, always ready to offer us a shoulder to cry on or to reach out a hand to help us get up, yet no one ever did the same for her. Not even me.
Courtney was a constant, bubbly presence in our lives, but, then again, June had been the exact same thing—until the day she wasn't.
"Hey, Court?" I started, unsure of how to carry the conversation.
"My boyfriend said they're hosting a New Year's Eve party at Stanford," she said, as though she hadn't heard me, "and told me I should invite my friends. Do you want to go?"
"Court."
She flicked her pink hair over her shoulder and began typing something on her phone. "I'll tell him you're going."
"Courtney, please." She looked at me for a brief moment, dark eyes open wide, then her stare fell back to her lap. "It's a serious question. Are you okay?"
"Yeah." She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, a gesture devoid of any energy, of any enthusiasm, and I instantly knew I had done the right thing by speaking up. "Yeah, I'm okay. I'm okay now."
"What do you mean?"
Courtney shook her head. "I'm not sure. It just gets so . . . loud sometimes. Not always, though; I'm fine most of the time, but then it hits, and I feel lost, like I'm so quiet, so silent, so unsteady in a world that never stops yelling, that never stops spinning. It's spinning way too fast for me to regain my balance." She timidly looked at me, nose wrinkled. "That doesn't make any sense, I'm sorry. I don't really know how to put it into words. You must think I'm an idiot."
I slid out of bed and sat cross-legged in front of her. "I don't think you're an idiot. Have you talked to anyone about how you feel?"
"My boyfriend." I nodded. Courtney's boyfriend, Jonah, was a freshman at Stanford. Even though he hadn't graduated that long ago, Courtney spent more time with us than with him, who seemed unbelievably distant with his new college friends. "He tries to help, but he doesn't understand much himself. That's why I keep myself busy; I joined clubs, got a part-time job, found new hobbies. I try to look out for people so it won't get loud for them, too." She took a deep breath and I understood—I understood why she was here. She knew I was like her; the caretaker. "June knew. She tried to help, but you know how she was. She wanted to help everyone, even with the smallest things."
"Maybe she wanted to help herself, too."
"Maybe." Courtney exhaled, eyes glimmering with tears, and I reached out for her hand. Her skin was only a few shades darker than mine.
"You're not alone, Court. It's not just Jonah who's trying to look out for you, okay? I know we're all super distant and things suck most of the time, but, at the end of the day, I want to believe we're all there for each other. You're always trying to help; it's only fair we return it. You're our friend and we love you."
One of the corners of her mouth curved up into a small half-smile. "You know, that's almost exactly what June told me. The text," she clarified, when I furrowed my forehead in confusion. She tapped on her phone a few times, then handed it to me. "I still don't understand what happened that night or why she didn't try to contact you, but . . ."
I had been trying to come to terms with that—my best friend's silence on the night she died and how it had been exclusively for me. I still accepted the phone.
JUNE B., 01:41 AM: Thank you for all your help. I really hope one day I'll be able to return the favor; after all, it's only fair, isn't it? I love you. Thanks for being a real friend. San Francisco will be waiting.
San Francisco will be waiting.
"San Francisco," I muttered. "Did you two ever talk about San Francisco?"
"Other than Spring Break? Not at all. Why?"
"Because"—I exhaled—"she left me a note inside a book she'd borrowed from me. That was the 'text' I got." Courtney leaned forward in anticipation. "It just read 'see you in San Francisco'; she'd never mentioned it to me before, but the note expects me to know what she's talking about, which I'm assuming it's the case with your text."
"Who did she mention it to? Someone must know what it means."
"Meridian"—even uttering his name was painful and I winced mentally—"told me June had said something about San Francisco to Leon on the phone a few weeks before she died. They were arguing and she said something about ruined plans, I think, but he has no idea what she meant. I don't think Leon does, either."
She tapped her index finger against her lips, pensive. "There's a ballet company there."
"Yeah, but she would have told us if she'd gotten accepted, right?"
Courtney threw me a sad smile. "Unfortunately, there were many things June kept to herself. I'm afraid this might be just another one of her mysteries."
keep in mind: meridian hasn't told sofia june had been skipping ballet (as far as i remembered and as well as i reread everything i've written so far to make sure he hasn't; if i made a mistake let me know so i can fix it)
the real question is: what ISN'T there in san francisco?