“I’m good.”

Gwen said, “Don’t be late. I’ve made baba ganoush for an appetizer.”

My family scurried through the rain, toward the two vehicles required to transport them home. I skulked to my truck parked on an adjacent street, the rain wetting my mortarboard and blue synthetic graduation gown. Freya had come to see me receive my diploma. She had stood up and cheered my walk across the stage. I was grateful . . . I was.

So why did I feel so betrayed?

9

I drove directly to Freya and Max’s waterfront house. If the white Range Rover was in the driveway, I would know that Freya had fabricated this friend. I’d know that she had no one but me to confide in, to laugh with, to support her . . . and I would be happy. If the white Range Rover was there, I could cheerfully go home to my family celebrations, to baba ganoush, and my eighth favorite meal. But if it wasn’t there . . . I wasn’t sure what I would do.

From the road, I could peek through the trees into Freya and Max’s yard. The house had a two-car garage, but I’d never known them to park their cars in it. Freya had casually mentioned that it housed Max’s motorcycle (the image of him on a Harley prompted a feeling that bordered on sexual arousal), and a bunch of boating equipment. I spotted Max’s black Range Rover, but Freya’s white model was missing.

My face burned, and my pulse pounded as I turned the car around and drove back toward town. It wouldn’t be difficult to find her. There were three restaurants in Hawking that would be up to Freya’s health, taste, and cleanliness standards. Only one had an ocean view, so I drove there first. Pulling up across the street from the boutique hotel that housed the eatery, I parked my truck. From there, I could see the hotel’s tiny parking lot, and Freya’s big white SUV. I had guessed correctly.

I was trembling by then, sweat beading my forehead and upper lip. I’d experienced intense jealousy only once before. Her name was Topaz. She had shown up at my school in ninth grade. She’d been shy and awkward, and I was sure I’d found my person. But after a month, she began to settle in, to come out of her shell. Soon, she was shrugging me off like an itchy sweater, easing her way into more popular circles. I’d felt hurt and angry, but I had let her go. Now, when I saw her laughing and smoking with her popular friends, I felt nothing.

But this was different. Freya had lied to me. She had told me that she had no one else. That she was bullied and taunted and I was her only friend in the world. Without me, she would be depressed and alone. She had let me feel important and needed. And now, she was out for dinner with some random bitch.