P.S. I Like You (29 page)

“No.”

“He thought
that
was Sasha?” She pointed at the letters.

“I’m pretty sure.”

“Then he’s an idiot. Those sound nothing like Sasha. Those letters are so you. He fell for
you
.”

A lump formed in my throat. “He didn’t fall for me.”

“It sure seems like he did.”

“Even if that were true, which it’s not, it doesn’t matter. I’m choosing you. I’m choosing us. I wore black.”

She smiled and pulled me into a hug. “Can I tell you something?”

“Of course.”

“I was always jealous of you and Cade.”

I pushed away from her so I could see her face. “Jealous? Of our fighting?”

“Yes. He’d get more passionate discussing something you did than anything we’d ever done or talked about. I never told you that I always kind of thought you two had a connection you both refused to admit to.”

“Iz.” I could tell what she was doing and I didn’t want her to feel like she had to do this.

“Hear me out.” She picked up the letters and placed them gently into my hands. “I want this for you.”

I smiled. “I love you for that, but he doesn’t want me, he wants
her
. The girl from in here.” I held up the letters. “Or at least he used to. He stopped writing and I have no idea why. Maybe because he thought she was Sasha. I don’t know.”

“Then tell him you’re her!”

“I’m scared.”

“If you don’t try, you’ll always wonder.”

“Isabel … ”

“Please, Lil.” She looked me in the eye. “I’ve been selfish. I never had him. Never all the way. I tried to blame that on you, but it wasn’t you. It was us. Me and Cade. We weren’t right for each other. But you two … ” She placed her hands on the outside of mine, which were still holding the letters. “You two would … What was that he said in one of the letters? Balance each other perfectly? Something like that? Anyway, I agree with him. You would. You do. Lily, give this a chance.”

Her plea was so sincere, so heartfelt, that all I could do was say, “I’ll think about it.” And “Thank you.”

When I went into my room later that night, something was on my pillow. The first thought I had was that Jonah had been in my room again messing with my stuff. But that wasn’t it. On my pillow sat the newspaper clipping for the song-writing contest, flattened as best as possible.

“Don’t give up,” Ashley said from behind me. “I’m sorry I’ve been so hard on you.”

I turned to see my sister in the doorway, my brothers’ heads peeking out from behind her.

“Did you guys do this?” I asked.

“You’re good, Lil,” Ashley said. “You can do it. You just need to believe in yourself.”

I picked up the newspaper clipping to reread the contest entry deadline and a glint of silver caught my eye. Beneath the clipping, there in the middle of my pillow, was money. A stack of bills and some change.

“I know it won’t cover the whole cost of a new guitar,” Ashely said, “but it’s a start.”

“I put the quarters in,” Jonah said proudly.

I couldn’t speak. A hot trail of tears spilled out of my eyes. My siblings came in the room and wrapped me in a group hug.

“I love you guys,” I said through a sob. “Thank you.”

“We’ve missed music around here,” Ashley said.

“You guys are the best.”

“We know,” Wyatt said.

“What’s that smell?” Ashley asked.

Jonah giggled.

“Ew!” Ashley broke free of the hug, dispersing us all, and chased Jonah out of my room to loud shrieks. I had the best family in the universe.

I
awoke the next morning immediately feeling a sense of panic. My heart raced, my lungs burned, my eyes stung. I was terrified just thinking about telling Cade I was the letter writer. I still wasn’t sure why he’d stopped writing me, but it didn’t seem like a good sign that right now both the letter-writing version of me and the real version of me weren’t necessarily on his good side.

I wouldn’t tell him.

No, I would tell him. At least if I told him it would be over and I could move on with my life.

I rolled onto my side. The pile of money my siblings had given me the night before—almost a hundred dollars worth—sat on my nightstand and gave me a boost of strength. I could do this.

If hair cooperation was any indication of how this day would go, I was in trouble. My hair refused to be tamed. When I showed up to school, my waves were a wild mess.

I searched for Isabel with an extra sense of urgency to see if she’d changed her mind, if she felt weird about me and Cade
potentially being together. I was trying to find a good excuse not to do this. I’d been trying to find an excuse not to admit that I liked Cade for a long time now.

But when I found Isabel, her smile was even more radiant than the night before. “You look like you’re going to puke,” she said, abandoning our normal greeting.

“I feel like I’m going to puke. And by the way, that’s the last thing I thought before I went to bed last night, too.”

She laughed. “So I take it you made a decision.”

“Yes.”

She didn’t have to ask me what that decision was. She knew. “Just relax. I read those letters, Lil. I’ve never heard him talk like that to anyone. You’ll be fine.”

I’d be fine. I’d be fine.

At first I thought I’d just march up to him and tell him who I was, but that wasn’t me, that wasn’t us … not that there was an us.

Sometime in the middle of fourth period I knew that the way to tell him was in a letter, tucked carefully beneath the Chemistry desk. Then he’d have time to process it, to think about it. He wouldn’t have to give an immediate reaction. Maybe it was another way of protecting myself, but it felt right.

I wasn’t going to risk Sasha seeing me write that letter though, so I pulled out my clean white sheet right there in the office where I was supposed to be sorting mail into teachers’
boxes. And I began writing the letter. I started it how I had never started one of these letters before. With his name.

Cade,

Hi. As you can see, I know who you are. A couple weeks ago, I was delivering some packets to Mr. Ortega and saw you writing to me. I was shocked, and to be honest, horrified. If you knew who I was, you’d understand why. We don’t get along very well. Mostly because I hold grudges. Even if they’re based off of misunderstandings, apparently. (I didn’t know this about myself until recently.) I guess I want to start by saying, I’m sorry for that. I’ve come to know you through the letters first, which have always brought me so much joy that I should’ve known that the person writing them was someone who would both challenge me and understand me. And then I came to know you outside of the letters, and you surprised me. In so many good ways. I’m not sure why you stopped taking my letters or writing me back, and I hope you take this one or else I’ll be forced to be brave and say this all to your face. Don’t make me do that. But I hope whatever the reason you stopped writing me is that it’s just another one of our misunderstandings. (There’s a song in there somewhere. Do you want to try your hand at writing it?) So now is the part where I tell you who I am so that you can be horrified.

Lily Abbott

I folded up the letter, not even wanting to reread it because that would ensure I wouldn’t give it to him. I tucked it in my pocket and tried to forget about it until Chemistry.

In Chemistry, I couldn’t free myself of the letter fast enough. I waited for a moment when neither Lauren nor Sasha were paying attention to me, and slipped it in place. As I pulled my hand back, I felt the edges of a new piece of paper. I sucked in a tiny breath and freed it. A letter. After a week, he’d written me a letter.

As I tried to carefully unfold it, I ripped a corner. I forced my hands to be still and finished, flattening the paper onto my desk.

I’m sorry I haven’t been writing you. Here’s the thing. I really enjoy writing you and you’re great and funny and smart, but then I started liking this girl, a girl who challenges me like no one before her has, and writing you felt a little like cheating on her. Even though she and I are not together. And you and I are not together. But still. This began feeling untrue to myself, and to her. I should’ve told you last week instead of just dropping off like that. She’s not quite convinced I’m a good guy yet, but I hope she will be soon. Wish me luck.

The blood slowly drained from my face. This letter could mean one of two things. One, it meant that Cade liked me.
Me. The real-life version of me. We
had
been spending some time together, right?

But then there was the other possibility—that he’d fallen for someone else entirely. After all, these letters were me. And if he fell for the real me, shouldn’t he have also fallen for the letter-writing me?

I was torn. Did I take my letter back and wait a few more days, see if I saw him around with another girl? Or did I leave my letter there and hope for the best either way?

I left it, much to my racing heart’s objections, because if he did like some other girl, this was my best chance to win him over.

After school, I showed Isabel the latest letter and she squealed.

“So you think this is a good thing?” I asked.

“He likes you. Go talk to him.”

My head whipped around, her statement making me think he was somewhere in the vicinity. He wasn’t, and I breathed a sigh of relief.

“He’s probably at baseball practice,” Isabel said. “I think they started pre-season training today. Go find him there. Wait for him.”

“I left him a letter. He’ll read it tomorrow. Until then I’m going to eat an entire bucket of Rolos and slip into a food coma.”

“Do Rolos cause food comas? All that sugar would produce the opposite effect, don’t you think?” she asked as though I was seriously going to eat an entire bucket of Rolos.

“After the high there would surely be a crash.”

“But that would take too long.”

“You’re right. Thank goodness you’ve talked some sense into me.”

“Another reason you keep me around.”

“One of a million.”

She squeezed my hand. “Tomorrow. Big things will happen tomorrow.”