Anna and the French Kiss

chapter twenty-six

Wait. What?

I’m sorry, what did he just say?

Toph kicks over the microphone stand in a grand, asshole gesture, and the three of them jump off the stage. It’s a little less dramatic when they have to come right back to take apart their stuff before the next band comes on. I try to catch Bridge’s eye, but she won’t look at me. Her gaze is locked on her cymbal stands. Toph takes a swig of bottled water, gives me a wave, then grabs his amp and heads for the parking lot.

“Woo! They were great!” Cherrie says.

Matt claps me on the back. “What’d ya think? She played me some of their stuff a few weeks ago, so I knew it’d be awesome.”

I’m blinking back tears. “Um. What did he just say?”

“He said she played some of their songs for us a few weeks ago,” Cherrie says, too close to my face.

I back up. “No. What did Toph just say? Before the Atlanta part?”

“What, ‘Don’t screw my girlfriend’?” Cherrie asks.

I can’t breathe. I’m having a heart attack.

“Are you okay?” Matt asks.

Why won’t Bridge look at me? I stumble forward, but Matt grabs me. “Anna. You knew she and Toph were dating, right?”

“I’ve gotta talk to Bridge.” My throat is closing. “I don’t understand—”

Matt swears. “I can’t believe she didn’t tell you.”

“How . . . how long?”

“Since Thanksgiving,” he says.

“Thanksgiving? But she didn’t say . . . she never said ...”

Cherrie is gleeful. “You didn’t know?”

“NO, I DIDN’T KNOW.”

“Come on, Anna.” Matt tries to lead me away, but I push him aside and jump onstage. I open my mouth, but no words come out.

Bridge finally looks at me. “I’m sorry,” she whispers.

“You’re sorry? You’ve been dating Toph for the last month, and you’re sorry?”

“It just happened. I meant to tell you, I wanted to tell you—”

“But you lost control over your mouth? Because it’s easy, Bridge. Talking is easy. Look at me! I’m talking right—”

“You know it wasn’t that easy! I didn’t mean for it to happen, it just did—”

“Oh, you didn’t mean to wreck my life? It just ‘happened’?”

Bridge stands up from behind her drums. It’s impossible, but she’s taller than me now. “What do you mean, wreck your life?”

“Don’t play dumb, you know exactly what I mean. How could you do this to me?”

“Do what? It’s not like you were dating!”

I scream in frustration. “We certainly won’t be now!”

She sneers. “It’s kind of hard to date someone who’s not interested in you.”

“LIAR!”

“What, you ditch us for Paris and expect us to put our lives on hold for you?”

My jaw drops. “I didn’t ditch you. They sent me away.”

“Ooo, yeah. To Paris. Meanwhile, I’m stuck here in Shitlanta, Georgia, at the same shitty school, doing shitty babysitting jobs—”

“If babysitting my brother is so shitty, why do you do it?”

“I didn’t mean—”

“Because you want to turn him against me, too? Well. Congratulations, Bridge. It worked. My brother loves you and hates me. So you’re welcome to move in when I leave again, because that’s what you want, right? My life?”

She shakes with fury. “Go to hell.”

“Take my life. You can have it. Just watch out for the part where my BEST FRIEND SCREWS ME OVER!” I knock over a cymbal stand, and the brass hits the stage with an earsplitting crash that reverberates through the bowling alley. Matt calls my name. Has he been calling it this entire time? He grabs my arm and leads me around the electrical cords and plugs and onto the floor and away, away, away.

Everyone in the bowling alley is staring at me.

I duck my head so my hair covers my face. I’m crying. This would have never happened if I hadn’t given Toph her number. All of those late-night practices and . . . he said they’ve had sex! What if they’ve had it at my house? Does he come over when she’s watching Seany? Do they go in my bedroom?

I’m going to be sick. I’m going to be sick. I’m going to be—

“You’re not going to be sick,” Matt says, and I didn’t know I was talking out loud, but I don’t care because my best friend is dating Toph. She’s dating Toph. She’s dating Toph. She’s dating—Toph.

Toph’s here.

Right in front of me, in the parking lot. His slender body is relaxed, and he leans his blue plaid hips against his car. “What’s up, Annabel Lee?”

He was never interested in me. She said that.

Toph opens his arms for a hug, but I’m already bolting for Matt’s car. I hear his peeved, “What’s with her?” and Matt replying something in disgust, but I don’t know what, and I’m running and running and running, and I want to be as far away from them, as far away from this night, as possible. I wish I were in bed. I wish I were home.

I wish I were in Paris.