“It’s because of her, isn’t it?” Her tone twists, along with her lip.

“What?”

“When I saw you looking at . . . her.” She sniffs and wipes her nose with the sleeve of her sweater. “Looking at her like . . . like you like her. But you can’t, can you? Do you? She’s so weird. She’s the biggest dork.” Her eyes meet mine, still wet with tears, but accusatory now.

Something simmers and wells up inside. Anger. Not for me, but for Reese.

Reese didn’t even want to admit how terribly Abby had been treating her, trying to protect me from the truth. Even after the truth came out, Reese could have said any number of things, but she kept it neutral. And here Abby is, the culprit playing the victim, and she’s trash-talking Reese?

“She’s not a dork. She’s actually pretty cool. You lived with her for a year. Did you ever even try and talk to her?”

“Well. No.” My words fluster her. She blinks rapidly and then searches my eyes. “She’s not normal, Fitz.”

My jaw clenches as it hits me. Really hits me, exactly what Reese said about us normies. And what she must have gone through for years. People not understanding her, not seeing her. And why? Because she refused to be exactly like the rest of us? Because she talks smart and doesn’t try to fit in?

“Just because she’s not into partying and failing school while lying and cheating on her boyfriend doesn’t mean she isn’t normal.”

She gasps. “You do like her, don’t you?” She’s shaking her head. “This ain’t right, Fitz. She’s not the one. It’s supposed to be me. You were always supposed to be my forever guy. Remember? Ever since third grade.” Her voice is rising.

I can’t have this. People are watching. “We can’t talk about this now.” I keep my voice low, moving closer so she can hear me, taking her arm and trying to lead her around the side of the house, where it’s darker and quieter. And there’s an exit through the garage. “Maybe you should go. Go with Kevin. You came here with him.”

She takes my hand on her as an invitation, moving closer, leaning into me again.

“Kevin doesn’t mean anything to me. You’re the only one that matters, the only one that makes me feel . . . real.”

“What are you talking about? You’re not making any sense.”

Although . . . in a weird way, she kinda is. Abby has always been a flirt, always thrived when the focus was on her, especially focus of the male variety.

She stops our progression and we haven’t even made it around the corner when Kevin appears out of the crowd, stalking toward us. I’m more grateful than I thought I would be to see his stupid face.

“We should get out of here.” He puts an arm around Abby’s shoulders.

I’m about to agree with him, but then Abby shrugs off Kevin’s arm, stepping away. “You don’t tell me what to do,” she snaps.