Molly looks at Eleanor helplessly. Eleanor gives her a small, almost imperceptible shrug. “She is my friend,” Molly says. “But … come on, Rose, you and I have been friends for most of our lives. What do you want me to say here? That I don’t care if you screw up your future so Danni can stay? This is exactly the kind of thing I was worried about last week.”

I think of Alfie’s warning. I think of Oscar, and how Molly has every reason to want revenge on me. To take away my most important person, just as I took hers. I think of how well she knew Danni’s schedule, and mine. How the online rumors have been fueled by footage and photos from her social media account for the most part. I think of how much she knows about going viral, and influencing the masses.

And—with a pulling in my stomach—I think of her mother, who sits on the alumni association.

Too many others disagree with me, and my hands are tied.

“Do you remember at my birthday, when you found out about Danni and me?” I ask.

Molly seems hesitant, but she answers. “Yeah?”

“How did you know we were together?”

Eleanor watches Molly warily as her face twists. “I didn’t know before you told me,” she says. “But it would’ve been hard to miss that something was going on with you two. No offense, Eleanor,” she adds.

I nod, keeping my face passive. I don’t know if I quite believe her, but I’m not certain enough to accuse anyone of anything. How can I discern between genuine suspicion and the paranoia securing its hold on my mind? How much evidence do I need before I turn against my own friends?

“Alright,” I say in a hollow tone.

Molly bites her lip and stands up slowly. “You think I’m the one who outed you and Danni to your family?”

I remain silent.

She clasps her hands in front of her in a mockery of gratitude. “Awesome. Thanks, Rose. Charming. You know what? Do what you want with Alfie. I don’t give a shit. Good luck.”

She leaves with a final, scathing look in my direction. Eleanor picks up her phone, sucking in her cheeks. “Well, that was awkward,” she says.

I let my head fall against the mirror, succumbing to a wave of shame and exhaustion. “I’m sorry,” I say.

“Hey, don’t apologize to me,” she says. Her tone is light, but I don’t miss the reprimand. Even Eleanor, the famous neutral party, thinks I’m in the wrong here. Now I’m even less certain of where I stand than I was before.

I wonder whether, if I squeeze my eyes tightly enough, I can make all of this disappear.

FORTY-FOUR DANNI