“Suicide,” she says, her voice equally devoid of emotion.
My fists clench involuntarily as I remember standing on the edge of that roof, Preston’s hands on my arms, holding me back. Nausea roils in my stomach. Did I contribute to what Dawson did? When I confronted him, did his guilt become too much?
“Can we… Go somewhere and talk?” I ask, feeling incredibly, uncomfortably vulnerable in addition to unsteady on my feet.
“Why?” Gloria demands, bowing up. “You want to know all the grisly details? How he did it, who found him, what the suicide note said?”
She turns to the mirror and leans in, blinking as she watches her own dry eyes. Sometime between last Sunday and this one, she lost her brother, but looking at her, you wouldn’t know she’d cried a tear. Only the undereye circles that makeup can’t quite hide give it away.
“I’m sorry,” I say.
“For what?” she asks, turning from the mirror. “For my loss, or for having the nerve to think you can ask me about it? If you were a friend, I’d already have told you.”
“That’s fair,” I say, my lips numb.
“You’re not a friend, though, and you never were,” she goes on, anger lacing her words. “You just wanted to get close to Royal, and when you couldn’t get there yourself, you found another way in. You think you’re the first thirsty bitch to use me as a steppingstone? Please. You’re basic.”
The door swings open, and Gloria barks an order for them to leave, and the girls stumble against each other in a rush to obey. When the door settles closed, she turns to the mirror and snaps open her purse.
I swallow hard, glad for the distraction so I had a moment to let the sting of her words sink in. “You’re right,” I say. “I was a terrible friend.”
She snorts. “Don’t even bother, Harper. You weren’t a friend at all. I was a means to an end. The embarrassing part is that I thought you were different. Guess it’s my own damn fault for assuming. I know better than anyone that appearances are deceiving. I’m the last person who should have been fooled.”
I remember saying something similar to Duke in the pit the other day, how I was so desperate for a friend that I’d believed he could be one. Why would Gloria need a friend so badly? She’s popular, always surrounded by twenty people everywhere she goes—her sisters, the other Dolce girls, the cheer squad, the dance team, the Dolce boys, her brother and his friends…
But whatever the reason, she believed we were friends, and I hurt her by betraying that friendship.
“I’m sorry,” I say again, crossing my arms and leaning my hip against the sink. I don’t know how many more times she can cut me down before I’ll be on the floor. The worst of it is, every word she’s spoken is the truth. I genuinely cared about Gloria, but I did use her. I was so single-minded in my focus on getting in with the Dolces that when I saw a way in, and I took it. I climbed over anyone in my way to get what I wanted, just like they do.
The bell signaling the start of third period chimes, and Gloria sighs and drops her lipstick into her bag after reapplying. “Stop with the fake sympathy and go read Dixie’s blog for gossip like everyone else. I know better than to say a goddamn word to you.”
“You’re right,” I say again. “You’re right about everything, Gloria. But I really, truly am sorry.”
She crosses her arms and turns to me, mirroring my posture. “Go on, then. I’d like to hear your excuses so I can know how full of shit you really are.”
I’d rather eat dirt than be vulnerable to a person who already has the upper hand, but I force the words out. “I was obsessed with getting close to Royal at the expense of everything else,” I say. “I treated you like a disposable friend because I knew your loyalties were always to him first, and some part of me knew that he and I wouldn’t last, so you and I couldn’t, either. And the truth is, as pathetic as it sounds, I didn’t even really know I was doing it. I’ve never had a close friend, and I’m not sure I know how. When we were hanging out, I was being genuine. I liked hanging out with you. I like you. You’re cool as shit and the strongest girl at this school.”
She smirks. “Stronger than you?”
I can’t help but snort at that. “Uh, yeah. Way stronger. Unless we’re talking about fighting, in which case, can we please do that instead of talking? I’d rather spill my blood than spill my guts to you.”
“Why’d you tell him?”
I don’t have to ask what she’s talking about. We both know.
“When I was trying to get in with them, it wasn’t because I liked Royal. At least not at first. It was because… I needed information.”
She narrows her eyes. “Information?”
“This is going to sound insane, but this anonymous guy contacted me online, and he gave me a scholarship here on the condition that I get him dirt on the Dolces.”
“Oh my god,” she says, her eyes widening. “You’re, like, a spy?”
I shrug. “Kind of. But it wasn’t glamorous. It was gross. I just… I really wanted to get out of this town. You know how much a diploma from Willow Heights is worth. And it wasn’t just about the scholarship, either. When I found out more about the Dolces, I kind of wanted to take them down. They’re not good people, Gloria.”
“You think I don’t know that?” she asks. “I’ve known them longer than you have, and I guarantee you I know them better. Those boys are all complete psychos, their mom is a worthless waste of space, and their dad is a total creeper who’ll try to convince you that you owe him a blowjob for driving you a block home in the rain.”
“Well, those are all my excuses,” I say, feeling relieved to have it out there and also kind of drained, like carrying the burden of that secret has worn me down. “If you want me to go all into my daddy issues and fucked-upness, I was probably also afraid of having a real friend, someone who could walk away, so I didn’t let anyone become a real friend.”