Chapter Twenty-Two

The Fall Fest posters in all their groovy seventies glory are up at school. Chloe Torres nailed it. I want to frame one and hang it in my room, and if all goes well, I just might.

After an early-mor ning meeting with Isaiah to review the ideas he shared with me, I’m feeling pretty good about where we’re headed for the festival, pla nning-wise. Even if I have sort of been lagging behind Isaiah in business outreach these last couple of days.

As I’m walking from third to fourth period, I do a double take when I spot Destiny Wright in the flesh, heading in the opposite direction. She’s wearing a fitted, collared baby doll tee over some wide-leg pants painted with elaborate designs in bold colors, and I’m instantly struck by how truly gorgeous she is in person. How have I not noticed this girl before?

Suddenly, I see how Isaiah could still be hung up on her. Great.

At lunch, while I’m sitting with Marisol and Sophie, I see Destiny again. And I can’t help it; I stare.

“Helloooo?” Marisol playfully taps on the top of my head with her long nails. “You in there, girl?”

“I’m here, sorry,” I say.

“What are you looking at so intensely?” Sophie asks.

Marisol shoots me a look. “Or who?”

“Remember that girl Destiny I was asking you about?”

Marisol crosses her arms. “Um, yes, and you still owe us an explanation on that since you practically took a vow of silence since the movies.”

“Well, she’s Isaiah’s ex. They were dating up until like a month ago. And now they’re hanging out again.”

Sophie furrows her brows at me. “And this bothers us . . . why?”

“Mmhmm,” Marisol adds, most annoyingly and unhelpfully. I look between my two best friends. “Bec ause— wel l, I . . . th ink I might have a crush on Isaiah.”

Marisol lets out a shriek that gets most of the cafeteria looking our way, but when our classmates realize it’s just Sol, they turn. Being loud is kind of her thing.

“Could you relax?” I ask, ducking my head down. “This is all super new. And anyway, in case you weren’t listening, In stagram-model- slash-fashion-icon- slash-Zendaya- doppelganger Destiny Wright is Isaiah’s ex. Like I’d have a chance. And they’re hanging out again!”

Marisol holds a finger up in the air. “Okay, first of all, no, I cannot relax.”

Ari comes up behind her holding a lunch tray and nods. “Yep. Can confirm. Girl has no chill.” She smiles at Marisol and swoops in to give her a kiss on the cheek. “Hi, by the way.”

“Hi,” Marisol coos back. Then she turns to me and holds up another finger. “Second of all, she really does look like Zendaya.”

“I know, right?” I ask. “They’re like twins.”

Sophie and Ari exchange a playful eye roll at our quick diversion from the topic at hand.

“Third of all,” Marisol continues, “I know you’re not trying to imply that you somehow have no chance with Isaiah because Destiny is pretty— as if you aren’t fucking gorgeous your damn self.”

I pause, taking a long sip of my drink. “That . . . is exactly what I’m implying.”

“Oh, shut up!” Sophie exclaims— and it’s so weird to hear her say anything even slightly less than positive that it makes the rest of us laugh.

“You tell her, Soph,” Ari cheers.

I gasp and throw a carrot stick at Ari. “Traitor!”

But Sophie’s not done. “Sol is right. You are a bi bombshell, and you’re a freaking idiot if you don’t see that. Just because you stayed with Aiden for way longer than you should have and he never treated you the way you deserved doesn’t mean you’re some, like, pariah destined to be alone. Everyone knows Aiden is a dummy. And we all make bad choices from time to time.”

Marisol snaps her fingers in agreement.

Sophie grabs the carrot stick and points it right at me like it’s a weapon. I put up my hands in surrender. “What you need to do is work on that sel f-image of yours and realize that you are a catch. And you downplaying that is not cute to anyone. So, if you wanted to go after Isaiah, you absolutely could.”

Despite being lectured, I’m touched. “You guys,” I say, making my voice soft. “That was the nicest scolding ever. And Soph! I’m so proud. Way to go.”

She flips her hair over her shoulder. “Thank you.”

“But everything she said is gospel. So you need to get right in the head,” Marisol says. “Don’t you agree, babe?”

Ari nods. “Of course I do, mi luz del sol.” Then she leans toward me and whisper- shouts, “Happy wife, happy life!” Marisol gently swats at her shoulder.

“While I very much appreciate the love and support, the real issue is that Isaiah is hung up on Destiny.” I sigh. “No amount of confidence or sel f-love I manifest is going to make it so that he forgets about her if his heart is still pining for her. Unless one of you is a witch and you have the ability to brew some kind of love potion.”

“Well, let’s not totally rule that out,” Marisol says. “My titi Ines is a bruja.”

I hold up a hand. “Um, stop. I need to hear absolutely everything about that immediately.”

“How have you never told us this before?” Sophie asks.

“It’s a long story. I’ll tell you later. I don’t want the gringos to overhear.” She pretends like she’s zipping her lips. “Anyway, how do you even know he’s still hung up on her?”

“His sister told me, for starters.”

“That’ll do it,” Ari says.

“Exactly,” I agree. I pull out my phone and unlock it, showing them the photo I had pulled up of her and Isaiah. “And look at this. From six days ago.”

Sophie inspects the photo. “They do look awfully cozy . . .”

“L et me see that.” Marisol snatches the phone out of my hand and zooms in on the two of them. “That doesn’t mean anything.” She tosses my phone back and I just barely catch it, accidentally double-tapping the picture in the process.

“Shit! No! I just liked the picture!”

Ari goes wide- eyed. “You just made Whit swear.”

“Hey,” a deep voice says from behind me. I whirl my head around to see Isaiah, and I very smoothly drop my phone on the floor.

“Hey!” My voice sounds unnaturally hig h-pitched, hopefully drowned out by the others saying hello, too. I reach for my phone but Isaiah is faster. When he turns it over, praise sweet baby Blue Ivy that the screen is locked and not on the photo of him and Destiny.

I take my phone from Isaiah. “Thanks.”

“No problem. And, hey, you actually left this at my house the other night . . .”

He reaches into his interior jacket pocket and pulls out a notebook. But not just any notebook: my notebook. The notebook where I keep all my silly little lists! (And, also, like, useful stuff like my agendas for the day and whatever, but THOSE LISTS ARE PRIVATE.)

“Oh my God, thank you!” I reach out to quickly take the notebook from his hands, far too eager to have it back in my possession. How did I not notice this was gone? I must really be out of it. “It would’ve been really embarrassing if my list ranking the hottest members of Intonation got leaked to the entire school.”

He laughs. “Don’t worry. I won’t tell anyone Rider is your favorite.”

Before I can respond, Isaiah is waving goodbye, and now I’m frantically flipping through my notebook for any indication that he did read it, because how the hell did he know Rider is my favorite member of Intonation? And do I actually have a list ranking the hottest members of the band that I don’t remember writing?

“Shit, that was close,” Marisol breathes.

“Too close,” Sophie agrees. “Is your notebook okay? I know how much you love that thing.”

I nod, scanning through the pages, including the waterlogged list for my perfect senior year. “It seems like it’s all here. Crisis averted.”

“Well . . . sort of,” Ari says. All three of us look up, but Ari just juts her chin in the direction of the courtyard so that all four of us are watching as Isaiah rejoins his friends outside and Destiny Wright envelops him in a warm, chest-to - chest, we’re - defi nitelymore -than-friends hug.

Suddenly my friends are murmuring, “Sorry, Whit,” and I have no choice but to smile at them brightly and tell them it’s fine— really. All good.