The Queen of Bright and Shiny Things by Ann Aguirre Read Free Book Online Page A

weekend, we made falafel and flatbread, then gave each other pedicures. Which might sound boring, but it was exactly what I needed after the drama with Ryan.
    To distract her from my life, I asked all kinds of questions about UPS Joe. The date went well, I guess, and they’ll be doing it again. I joked, “Tell me if you need me to have a sleepover some night,” and to my amusement, Aunt Gabby turned bright red. The teasing carried us until bedtime.
    Then I overslept this morning and didn’t have time for more than a ponytail. No makeup. And I’m in my usual Crappy Weekend outfit: pink-and-black-print skirt, black leggings, pink tank, black shrug. The idea is that the pink will cheer me up. Mostly I remember Ryan saying I look like a hydrangea in this. My life has Ryan McKenna’s stupid size 13 shoes all over it. I’m realizing I don’t have many other close friendships; I let him eat up all my time, though we weren’t even dating. God only knows what would’ve happened if we had been. We might’ve merged into a mecha-something or fused consciousness like the Borg.
    So, yeah, Monday morning, and I’m alone. There’s no Ryan waiting for me at the double doors. Though I know this is the right move, it still sucks. Which makes me even surer this is the best decision because maybe we’ve gotten codependent. But this feels like the first day of school all over again; in my head, I’m thirteen, nobody likes me, and they’re going to find out where I lived before, what I’ve done. Crap. Ryan isn’t the only one keeping secrets, but I guess it doesn’t matter now. I ride past the students milling in the parking lot, the few perched on cars, and lock up my bike along with a couple already secured to the rack. Come winter, I’ll be the only one still riding. It doesn’t get easier inside the building. The usual groups are clustered around their lockers, but now they look like aliens with their craning necks and curious eyes. It’s like they’ve never seen me before. I slide past them, heading for my locker, where I pull up short. I glance to either side, wondering if this is a joke. Then I imagine this is how other people feel when they find my pink Post-it. But this one is bright blue and it’s written in black Sharpie. It says, You are the silver lining.
    I love that phrase and the fact that it came from John Milton. “Was I deceived, or did a sable cloud / Turn forth her silver lining on the night?” So somebody out there thinks I’m the bright side of a dark cloud. I take down the note and stick it inside the cover of my binder. Feeling someone’s gaze, I glance around, hoping to catch the person who wrote it, but there’s only Ryan, watching me from his locker across the way. From his expression I can tell he saw the Post-it, maybe even read it, but he didn’t leave it there.
    I turn away without speaking to him and the girl next to me notices. Lila’s not goth, but she wears a lot of black, and she’s a pro at rolling her eyes. She thinks everyone except her has an IQ of seventy-five. “So, are you two done?”
    God, I don’t even know how to answer that. It isn’t what she thinks, but I still care about him, and I won’t dump his secrets in the lap of the first person who asks. Soon enough, gossip will hit that we’re “over.” Awesome. All the break-up bullshit, none of the making-out.
    “For now,” I say finally. “Sometimes it’s good to take a break, get some perspective.”
    “Somebody cheated.” She smirks. “But you both look so squeaky clean that I can’t guess who’s the injured party.”
    “Good talk, Lila. See you later.” Though we’ve been locker neighbors for two years, this is the most she’s ever said to me.
    She laughs. “That was almost sarcastic, Princess. I didn’t know you had it in you.”
    She doesn’t mean it in a bad way. I get it; I’m a joke to most people. The people at JFK think I never get down—that I don’t have shitty days and dark thoughts.