Invisible (23 page)

T
he ringing of my cell phone woke me up.

“Hello?” I croaked, without bothering to check my caller ID.

“Did you put him up to it?”

Corey.

I sat bolt upright, wondering dimly whether this could be a supervivid dream, until I glanced over at my alarm clock. Not even in my worst nightmares would anyone be sadistic enough to call me at six in the morning when I was suspended from school and could theoretically sleep as late as I wanted.

The distinct tone of wariness in Corey's voice had me struggling to keep up.

“What are you talking about?”

“Tim mentioned that you called him.”

I rubbed my eyes, which felt like sandpaper after all my crying the day before, and fought the urge to close them again. “Uh-huh.”

“So did you put him up to this?” Corey's obvious impatience was so familiar that it was comforting to hear.

“Uh, what
exactly
did he do?”

“Only the sweetest, most romantic gesture known to mankind. He painted a billboard in LA—well, I think he painted it.... It could have been done some other way, I'm not sure—”

“Let's stay on point, Corey. What did it say?”

“He painted ‘I love Corey O'Neal' and signed it clearly to eliminate any doubt over who did it.”

Smooth. The rock star definitely had moves.

“Then he texted a picture of himself standing in front of it to me. And he—” Corey's voice broke with emotion. “He wrote, ‘I'm not hiding anymore. Sorry I panicked. Forgive me?' ”

“Uh . . .” I was almost at a loss for words. “Yeah, that's pretty romantic.”

“
Right!
What should I do?”

I slowly shook my head in an attempt to clear it. “Why are you asking me? I thought you wanted my head on a platter.”

There was a long pause while I instantly regretted my words. For this one brief moment, I had my best friend back—if that was a dream, I didn't want to wake up; if it was a random accident, I didn't want to be the one to kill it.

“There was no one I wanted to talk to more.”

I felt my throat close. “Really?”

“Yeah. That doesn't mean everything is fine between us,” Corey added quickly. “Maybe it was an accident—”

“It was!”

“But it still hurt.”

I nodded, forgetting that he couldn't see it over the phone.

“But you were right: Even at my angriest I couldn't erase our years of friendship either. So . . . I called you. And if you want to get back in my good graces, you better start dishing out some brilliant advice right now. What should I do?”

I laughed, and the chokehold of tension around my heart eased. “Okay, well, advice is not really my strong suit. The idea to declare his love on a
billboard
didn't come from me, so you might want to lower your expectations. But . . . the guy spent an hour grilling me for information about how you were handling the split.”

“And you said that I was doing fine, so he'd have to work
really
hard to get me back?”

“Nope. I told him that you were a mess.” Corey made indignant choking noises, but I ignored them. “He sounded devastated.”

“He did?”

“
Of course
he did! The guy is completely in love with you, Corey!” I thought back to Tim's romantic gesture. “Obviously, he wants to fix things.”

“But he dumped me and then publicly
lied
about us!”

“True. So here is my advice: You have to decide if you want to throw away your relationship because he panicked. I'm not saying what he did was right: It wasn't. I'm saying that the decision is yours.”

“You really do suck at giving advice!” he groused. “You sound like a freaking fortune cookie.”

I grinned and leaned back against the headboard of my bed. “Yep. So what did you tell him after you saw the text?”

“I—I haven't called him yet.”

“What!”
I squawked. “I'm hanging up now so that you can call him. Then I'd love to hear how it goes.”

There was a slight pause before he said hesitantly, “Okay. I'll let you know how it goes.”

My smile widened. “Sounds perfect to me.”

Maybe I hadn't lost
all
my friends by taking a stand, especially since Corey definitely had the best reason to hate me. Then again, he was also probably the most forgiving person at Smith High School. And it had been an accident.

Yelling at Kenzie in his bedroom hadn't happened by mistake though.

Since I was already fully awake, I went downstairs and began rummaging around for omelet-making supplies— cheese, onions, tomatoes, the works—in the hope that maybe some culinary groveling would lessen my grounding sentence.

I was in the midst of a chopping frenzy when my parents entered the kitchen.

“This is a nice surprise!” My mom eyed the items sprawled across the counter. “Any particular reason for it?”

“Corey called me this morning, and I think we're going to be okay.”

“Oh, Janie! That's wonderful!”

My dad nodded less effusively. “That's great, Jane. I know how much his friendship means to you.”

“Yep. Now I hope you're both hungry. Maybe later we could discuss the terms of my punishment?”

No such luck.

My dad was insisting that parents don't negotiate with teenagers, when Elle wandered into the kitchen.

“Jane, there's a guy at the door for you.”

I rushed out of the room, only to pull up short when I saw Miles waiting on my porch. Leaning against the side of my house, he still looked perfectly suited to play Romeo. I half expected him to quote some verse and hand me a single perfect rose . . . but I couldn't help feeling oddly disappointed that it wasn't Scott.

“Hey, Jane. Sorry just to drop by unannounced, but Ms. Helsenberg mentioned having homework to give you during play rehearsal . . . and I figured you could use a friend right now.”

I stared at him in confusion as I tried to figure out if he meant
Hey, let's take our relationship slow
or
You've been dumped.

“Right. A friend.”

“And I'd really like to be one to you.”

“A friend,” I repeated stupidly.

“Right.”

I rubbed my temples and tried not to jump to conclusions. “As your friend, I think I should give you a heads-up. . . . Your ‘it's not you, it's me' speech . . . it could use a little work.”

He grinned wryly and then slung an arm around my shoulder. No sparks. Not even a tingle of awareness. “Oh no. It's definitely you.”

I couldn't help laughing at the blunt way he put it, especially since I felt oddly relieved at the ease with which we had moved out of dating territory.
This
I could handle. “Fair enough. I still had a good time hanging out with you in Portland.”

“Yeah, it was fun. We should do it again sometime—as friends. Catch a play or something.”

“Sounds good to me.”

We stood there for a moment as I tried to wrap my head around the fact that Miles inspired absolutely no desire in me to have his tongue in my mouth. The guy might be perfect, but he would never be my Romeo. And yeah, it stung to have him lose interest, although that was definitely preferable to him showing up and expecting another date.

“So . . . I'll see you around?”

He handed me the assignments with a wink. “See you later, Jane.”

Leaving me stuck explaining to my parents that Miles was a friend (true) who had auditioned with me for the school musical (true) and only stopped by to be helpful (true, considering the way he brought over my assignments before he helpfully dumped me). I didn't get a break from the interrogation until my parents left for work and Elle finally accepted that I wouldn't be revealing any juicy gossip. She rolled her eyes, but left me alone to call Mrs. Blake and ask for another day off from Fiction Addiction. Which is why she missed out on hearing my excellent imitation of static when Mrs. Blake started asking questions about how my date went with Scott, before I tried to distract myself with my new assignments.

As far as diversions go, it was seriously lacking.

But I was still buried beneath a pile of handouts when I heard a tentative knock on my door.

Definitely not Elle and, since everyone else I knew was still in school, it left me without a list of likely candidates.

“Um . . . come in?”

A painfully familiar face peered into my room but entered no farther, as if too uncertain about her reception to cross the threshold.

“Hey, Jane.”

“What are you doing here?” I blurted out in disbelief. I hadn't expected to see Miles earlier that day, but even
that
was less bizarre than the notion that Kenzie would skip class for any reason. Let alone for me. “Shouldn't you be at school?”

“I snuck away during lunch. Logan dropped me off, but we don't really have that long to talk before I have to leave. I—I just wanted to see you.”

“Really?” I couldn't prevent the sarcasm from leaking out even as every corpuscle in my body began screaming at me to patch things up. To apologize, if necessary. To accept any small crumb of affection if it could get us back to how we once were. “That's interesting. Since when? Because you sure as hell haven't made an effort in a long time.”

Kenzie pushed the door open wider but didn't approach me. “Look, I get that you're mad at me. You made that really clear yesterday. And I should've been more supportive when the article came out, okay? I knew you would never intentionally hurt Corey, but his life was falling apart, and he needed me and . . . I'm sorry, Jane. I didn't know what to do.”

I nodded slowly, but stopped when I realized that she wasn't finished.

“But the way you blasted us yesterday wasn't right either. You can't emotionally dive-bomb somebody and then run away before they get a chance to defend themselves.”

My stomach plummeted, and I braced myself for the worst.

“Okay, fine. What did you want to say?”

“I wanted to tell you that I know that I've been busy lately, and it
sucks
—for both of us—but I'm doing the best I can!”

I forced myself to remain sitting. “Kenzie, I get it. Trust me, I've been repeating the excuses for a long time now. AP History classes, tutoring, a boyfriend . . . that's a lot even before you add the sudden Internet fame. But we both know that you don't see me anymore. That's why somehow the invitations never extend to me!”

“That's ridiculous. I didn't invite you to Spencer's stupid party because
you wouldn't want to go!
”

Her words hung in the air, but before the uncomfortable silence could fully settle upon us, Kenzie continued in a softer tone.

“I only agreed to go because I thought Melanie might hit it off with Spencer, okay? And I feel guilty about how much time Logan spends with me instead of his best friend. But I haven't forgotten about you, Jane. You're my best friend.”

I nodded weakly as her words settled warmly around me, easing the sharp ache that had taken up residence inside me for far too long. Maybe it was nerdy of me, but hearing her call me her best friend in the
present
tense . . . it made all the difference.

“I'm sorry if I've been dropping the ball lately. I can do better.” She grinned, and suddenly everything seemed just a little bit brighter because she looked like herself once more. “Somehow, I'll work on it, okay? But if you ever feel unseen again, don't make up stupid excuses for me and then get mad when nothing changes. I'm not a mind reader, you know. You have to actually use those words you're so good at writing, and let me know when something is wrong. Preferably without blowing up in my face.”

Somehow it hadn't occurred to me that she would want to know when we had a problem. I just assumed she would want me to handle stuff like party invitation–related insecurities on my own.

Maybe she had forgotten how to be a best friend, but it looked like I had too.

I pretended that required some deep consideration. “I think I can manage that.”

“Good.” Kenzie confidently entered the room and sprawled out next to me on the bed. “Now, we've got a limited amount of time and a lot of catching up to do. Want to fill me in on what I've missed?”

I laughed. “Remember the photographer Logan wanted to punch? Yeah, well, he kissed me. How's that for news?”

Kenzie very nearly skipped class by demanding all the details. As it was, she sprinted out to Logan's car only after he'd already honked twice.

And for the first time since Kenzie's YouTube video was posted, it felt like things were back to normal between us. That even if I never truly emerged from my sister's Notable shadow or Kenzie's own celebrity status, I wasn't Invisible—not to her.

Oddly enough, that was all the validation I really needed.

Especially when my cell phone started ringing.

“Are you back together or what?” I demanded after nearly dropping the phone in my excitement. “What did he say, Corey?”

“
Well,
he really did sound miserable without me.”

“That is not news. Get to the good stuff, already!”

“He apologized for panicking and promised that it would never happen again. I guess his manager told him this could destroy his music career, and . . . well, he apologized.”