I’m currently sitting on her porch in my school uniform watching the rain pelt her overgrown lawn, so that’s a no.
I send him a quick summary of my day trying and failing to find her, and how she’s ignoring me, and he messages me back quickly.
Check Ralph’s Instagram story.
Ralph’s Instagram story? I just poured my heart out telling him how I’m trying to reconcile with my best friend who’s ignoring me, and he tells me to check Ralph’s social media?
I don’t think Jay would brush aside my feelings for no reason. He didn’t even do that when we hated each other, so he definitely wouldn’t do that now, not with whatever is going on between us.
I open the app and click on Ralph’s profile. His story shows him at the cliff. It doesn’t look like it’s raining there, but the background looks a little cloudy.
He must have skipped school—or at least last period—to get there already. I click through the stories, one of which shows him in a hideous button-up shirt with a pattern of turkeys and Santa Claus for some reason, singing into a beer bottle to a song someone’s blasting from a speaker. Other stories show Ralph with other people, cliff jumping and just generally fooling around.
I’m beginning to think this is pointless when I get to the last story. It’s a video of him throwing his arm around Kalani, telling her to jump. She laughs and pushes him off, some of the beer in his bottle spilling from the action. “You know I can’t swim, Ralph, and stop filming me!” she exclaims, and her hand lands on the camera before the video cuts out.
It was posted fifteen minutes ago.
A renewed sense of hope and purpose ignites within me, and I sprint through the rain and dive into my car.
Thanks, Jay! Heading there now!
I text him as I adjust my backpack in the passenger seat before finding my recent locations in the navigation app on my phone and selecting the cliff.
Want me to come with you? I can be ready in five.
Thanks, but this is something I should do on my own. I’ll text you when I get there.
I’m sure Jay would be great company and emotional support for this, but Kalani and I need to do this on our own. I’m not backing down anymore, and even though I’d rather have teeth pulled than talk about it, it’s way past time we discuss everything. Including my crush on Emmett.
—
Considering this is the first time I’m driving to the cliff by myself and the GPS can only take me so far, I do a pretty good job navigating. I pull onto the little dirt road where the tree branches whip at my car and emerge into the parking lot clearing, feeling triumphant when I spot Kalani’s Audi. She’s still here, and we’re settling thistoday.
I park beside her, and a clap of thunder rings as soon as I open my door. It’s not raining here like it was at home, but the darkening sky tells me to make this quick.
Laughter and music from the cliff urge me on as I march up the path, and I don’t stop to chat with some kids from Jay’s school who pass me on the way to their cars. I am on a mission.
As soon as I pass the tree line, I spot Kalani. It’s not hard since there aren’t many kids here today, and she’s sitting directly in front of me with a beer bottle in her hand. She’s with Ralph and his friend Nico, whom I’ve met previously, but Emmett and all of Jay’s other friends I bonded with yesterday are absent.
Taking a deep breath for courage and reminding myself that I’m telling people how I really feel, I step into sight. “Kalani!”
The three of them turn to me—Ralph even waves and calls out my name enthusiastically—but I’m focused on Kalani, who frowns as she lowers her beer bottle. “I don’t remember inviting you. I thought I turned my phone off.”
She’s in a designer skirt and floral ruffled tank top, and both look a little askew—not a noticeable amount, but askew enough by Kalani’s standards to know something is off.
“Are you drunk?” I ask.
“I can drink one or two beers without getting drunk,Mom.”
Despite the heavy condescension, she’s not slurring or unsteady in her seat, so I let it go. “Then great, we need to talk.”
“Youwant to talk?” she asks, like I’m annoying her with my presence. This would normally be my out, where I’d say never mind and scamper away with my tail tucked between my legs to avoid the confrontation, but I’m not that girl anymore, and I’m not pushing my problems away in favor of avoiding hard conversations.
So I drop my backpack on the ground, straighten my spine, and say, “Yes, we’re going to talk about everything that’s going on, Kalani, and we’re going to do it now.”
Like she’s dealing with an annoying child that’s begging for her attention, Kalani huffs a sigh, chugs the last of her beer, hands the empty bottle to Ralph, and stands. “Fine. You want to do this now? Then let’s do it. Remember the first time we came here? You forgot your jacket. When I returned it the next day, I heard you talking to your mom. I know you’re in love with Emmett.”
I thought I’d dread this conversation, dread those words escaping Kalani’s lips, but now all I feel is anger.