A pit of confusion opens in my chest. Of all the things I expected Jordan to say, asking about a mobile app wasn't one of them.
"Prism?" I say, trying to recall if I've ever heard of it. "I don't think so."
She pushes aside her tray and shifts in bed, grimacing until she finds a comfortable position. "I'm not surprised. You don't seem like the type who'd be into it." Her gaze falls to her lap. "I'm sorry. That came out wrong."
I lean back in my chair, the pit of confusion growing. "It's okay. I don't even know what you're talking about."
Jordan reaches for the cell next to her tray. Using her good hand, She pulls up the app, then turns it around to face me.
The screen has a series of cracks but I can just make out a whimsical white font and the word prism sitting in the center of the screen with a tie-dye pattern of pastel colors is behind it. Only prism isn't spelled the way you'd think. The letters are lower case with the exception of a capital z which takes the place of the s.
priZm.
When my eyes reconnect with hers, I shake my head.
"Sorry the screen's a mess. I'm lucky it survived the accident." Jordan sets the phone face down on her lap. "priZm is an app where you can meet likeminded people with ... alternative lifestyles."
"Alternative lifestyles?" And then it dawns on me. "Oh. Like a dating app for ..." I let the sentence fall off, not wanting to say the wrong thing.
She nods. "For people who consider themselves something other than heterosexual."
A cluster of questions fill my head. I wrap my arms around my middle and try to piece together what she's saying. "I don't understand what this has to do with anything?"
Jordan's teeth pull at her bottom lip, ripping open the painful-looking split. Dots of blood blossom along the seam. She reaches for a tissue and presses it to her mouth. "There are things you don't know about Emma. Things she's kept from you. From everyone."
This is it. I knew Jordan knew more than she was letting on.
My chest tightens as I struggle to take in air. "Does this have anything to do with the fight I walked in on last year?"
Jordan closes her eyes, waits a beat. Opens them. "You can say that," she says in a single sad breath. The fingers that stick out from her cast fiddle with a rogue thread on the bed spread. She gives it a tug and the string grows longer, a patch of white fabric bunching up behind it. "I'm not sure if you know this, but I'm not into guys—I prefer girls." Pink tinges her cheeks, bringing out the freckles splashed across her skin.
I nod slowly, choosing my next words with care. "I did hear something about that. But it doesn't change anything, if that's what you're worried about. It doesn't matter to me who you like."
A relieved exhale comes out in a rush as she balls up the tissue in her fist. "I've known since I was little, but didn't come out to my parents until middle school. And I'm lucky; they're very accepting. Everyone in my family is. They love and support me no matter who I want to be with."
A contented expression flashes across her face before turning into something else.
"Except, in a town like Menteuse, there aren't many opportunities to explore my ... options. And then I found priZm," she says. Her voice rises an octave higher. "It's more than a dating app. It's a place where you can meet people who share the same thoughts as you—or for those who don't really know what they think. There are chat rooms that examine different topics, and when you're ready for more, you can join regional discussions."
I sit in silence as she explains how it works, offering occasional nods when she seems uncertain about sharing her story. I'm not entirely sure where it's going, but I focus on every word she says, flattered that she trusts me enough with such personal information.
"When I first joined, I was too young to care about hookups; I was just happy to meet others who understood what I was going through. It didn't matter where they lived because seeing them in person was never part of the plan. At least, not back then. But as I got older, everything changed."
Jordan's expression softens, and her lips curl into an almost-smile. "I met someone. It was my freshman year and she was a year older than me—yet unlike me, she was still struggling to understand her sexuality. She liked guys, and she even had a boyfriend, but she thought she might like girls, too.
"Except, she was in the same situation I was in. Her town was too small to feel safe exploring her feelings. And not only that, but she said her family would disown her if they discovered how she felt. The more we talked, the more we realized how much we had in common. But the biggest shock came when, after months of talking, we realized we not only lived in the same state, but in the same town. And that we—we already knew each other."
Something flutters in my stomach.
I know what she's about to say but can't believe she's going to say it. I don't want her to say it. So, I try to say it first, only it takes a long time for my mouth to form the words. "Was it Emma?"
Jordan nods, her teeth once again catching her lower lip. She stops herself just before they scrape across the laceration.
My jaw clenches as realization sinks in.
Why didn't Emma tell me she liked girls? What was so wrong with me or our relationship that she didn't trust me with the truth? Did she think I would judge her? That I wouldn't accept her for who she is? Did she think I'd disown her the way she apparently feared her parents would?
"Emma wanted to tell you but she was afraid. She worried that the more people who knew, the more likely it would be to get back to her family. Especially with you living next door," Jordan says, as if reading my mind. "There were times when it really bothered her, keeping everything from you. Sometimes, I think she even hated herself for it. And she felt bad about Smith, too. She cared about him a lot, but wasn't sure how he fit into things. If I'm being honest though," her voice grows a fraction softer, "I think he was a safe lie to hide behind when she was too terrified to face the truth."
I turn away, not wanting her to see the tears pressing against my eyes, and somehow keep my body from folding in on itself.
Shouldn't I have known my best friend was struggling? No one should have to feel that way. No one should be so afraid to show their true selves that they hide it from the people they care about the most. From the people who care about them. That's no way to live.
A tear sneaks out from the corner of my eye and I wipe it away with the side of my hand. "So ... you and Emma?" I finally say, glancing back at her.
Jordan shrugs. "For a while. Since we were already friends in real life, we knew we didn't have real feelings for each other—or, I should say, Emma didn't have real feelings for me." Jordan's gaze drops to her lap. When she looks back up, they're shining. "The plan was that we would, sort of, use each other to—experiment and stuff—without having to worry about emotions getting in the way."
It's not too difficult to see what she's not saying. "But they did?"
Jordan flinches, a swallow moving down her throat. "We were each other's firsts, and I guess I fell in love with her. I knew she didn't feel the same way, and I was afraid if I said anything, she wouldn't want to be with me at all—even in the superficial way we were together.
"But then last year, Emma said she met someone else and wanted to break things off." Jordan sniffles and wipes her nose with the balled up tissue in her hand. "It broke my heart when she ended things. So, I told her I was going to tell her parents everything. It was just the pain and anger talking; I never would have gone to them. But she completely freaked out. She said if I told anyone, I'd live to regret it. That's when you walked into the locker room."
A gasp catches in my throat. "That's why she was so upset!"
I'd never seen Emma so angry in my life. But if she believed that Jordan was about to go to her parents, it could have been enough to push her over the edge.
And I get it. Emma's parents expect perfection. It's what she's complained about forever. Something about proving themselves in this country, which I never understood.
They're both educated and hard-working, and they've made a wonderful life for themselves, even after having Emma so young. Would they have held their daughter's sexual preferences against her because they thought it would make them look bad? Is that why she went behind their backs to meet people online?
I sit up in my seat. "Wait. You said she met someone else on the app?"
Something changes on Jordan's face. When she speaks again, it's through gritted teeth. "Mizz Marigold."
"Mizz Marigold?" I repeat.
Jordan blows out a breath. "That's her username."
"What's her real name?"
She shakes her head. "Stefanie something. I don't know, she never said. But then, I was so hurt I never gave her the chance to. It's just—I can't stop myself from wondering if ..." She stops.
A strange sense of foreboding pricks at the back of my neck. "If Emma was in love with her?"
Jordan cringes at the question. "Emma made it clear this girl is the love of her life. She said they're going to be together."
The words slam into me like a punch to the gut. Emma met her soulmate and never told me about it? Aren't best friends supposed to share everything? Isn't that part of the unofficial oath?
But that's just it. Emma and I didn't share our secrets. Not all of them. There were things we didn't want the other to know.
The room takes a spin. My elbows sink into my knees, my face buried in the clammy confines of my palms.
I wanted the truth, but this is too much.
And yet I continue to prod. "If you knew Emma was in love with her, what can't you stop yourself from wondering?" I finally ask, not trusting myself to look up.
Jordan hesitates. "I can't help but wonder if Mizz Marigold had something to do with Emma's disappearance."