* * *
I've been sitting on this really low, soft, fancy-looking circular sofa by the sliding glass door for a while now. I'm all snuggled up next to Bryson, sipping my Coke and bobbing my head to the music.
I glance over at Becca on the other side of the sofa, and she's snuggled up next to Brian. Things have actually gone okay so far regarding her and Summer, I guess. And I say 'I guess' because things have been both good and bad.
The good part is easy: Becca hasn't throttled Summer. The bad part is I haven't been able to talk to Summer at all tonight, and I'm getting increasingly frustrated about that. But the truth is there's not a whole lot I can do. Becca simply can't be reasoned with when it comes to Summer, and the way things are now, I seriously have no idea how she would react if I went over and talked to Summer. And honestly, I have no interest in finding out. So I've pretty much decided to leave well enough alone and just be happy Summer's still in one piece.
Okay, so all that drama aside, I've actually been having a really great time! The party has swelled considerably in the last two hours--probably up to a few hundred people or so--and I think I've seen pretty much everyone from Stargate here, including Daniel Berston, Meagan Reeves, and everyone else from homeroom.
Bryson and I played four rounds of beer pong a little while ago, which drew an enormous crowd. I recruited Brad to drink for me, and Trent drank for Bryson. Even though I gave him a run for his money, especially in the last game--which I think he tried to let me win since everyone was cheering for me--Bryson beat me every time.
Then we all watched and laughed as Joey Kestle twerked on the coffee table, completely drunk out of his mind. We all cut loose and danced, then played more beer pong, then danced some more?then we watched Joey and Brad slow dance together, which basically consisted of them swaying back and forth while holding each other up since they were so ridiculously wasted. It was epic; I couldn't stop laughing.
So all in all, the night's been pretty cool. After sitting here and reflecting for a few more minutes, Bryson squeezes me and kisses my forehead.
"You need another Coke?" he asks, leaning to my ear.
I shake my head and smile. "I'm good!"
He hops up and walks over to the kitchen. When he passes by the bar, still occupied by the brainy college chaperones, he grins and leans in to see what they're doing, which is just typical Bryson. He's friendly and outgoing with everyone.
But they glance up at him and then look at each other, smirking. Although Bryson doesn't seem to notice, they're being condescending.
I get up and begin making my way to the kitchen, as Bryson stares down at a piece of paper next to the laptop, frowning in confusion. As I approach, the Asian guy directly in front of the laptop looks at his friend and chuckles.
"High-schoolers don't know their ass from a hole in the ground," he says in Mandarin Chinese. The tall, skinny door guy must have understood because he laughs along with the other Chinese guy.
"That's not very nice," I say in Mandarin as I walk up, trying not to be rude. Few things infuriate me more than when someone lords their intellect over someone else, or makes them feel dumb or anything of that sort. Especially when it's someone I care about. Even though Bryson gets straight A's and is well above-average amongst his peers, they know good and well he won't understand something even they're struggling to understand.
They look at me, shocked.
"You speak Mandarin?" he asks nervously.
"It looks that way, doesn't it?" I respond, glaring at him.
He looks back at the laptop, still smirking, and apologizes half-heartedly, in English this time.
I glance down at the paper and see it's filled with scribbles and scratch-outs, appearing to be repeated attempts to solve a particular math theorem.
"Have y'all solved this yet?" I ask.
"Not yet." His eyes remain on the screen as he scrolls around for examples, which I'm sure he's not supposed to do.
The door guy leans back on his elbows and says, "Whoever solves it first gets a prize from the professor."
"Okay?" I reach over and grab the pen and paper, then quickly solve the theorem while they watch. "Take this to your professor and get your prize."
I slide the paper back to them, knowing they won't receive any award. I proved the theorem in two easy steps, which their professor won't understand any more than them. There will be mass confusion; no prize.
But these guys needed to be taken down a notch. Perhaps now they won't be so cocky.
The Chinese guy grabs the paper and starts inspecting my work in amazement. That's when I notice Summer standing a few feet away on the other side of the bar. There's a huge grin planted on her face, and her eyes are bouncing back and forth between me and the now-huddled-up college group. She obviously saw what happened.
Bryson grabs his Coke, grinning as well, and he and I start heading back to the sofa.
"What was that guy saying when you walked up?" Bryson asks me.
Before I can answer, we hear a loud commotion behind us in the kitchen, followed by Summer screaming, "What the hell is your deal?!"
When I turn around, I see Becca standing in front of Summer; two red plastic cups knocked over and empty on the table beside them; and Summer standing there holding her arms out from her sides, looking down at her dress which is now soaked and dripping with beer.
I storm toward Becca, furious, embarrassed, and also surprised since I never even saw her walk into the kitchen. With everyone now watching, I grab her arm and forcefully pull her back.
"What are you doing?"
"She walked by me and looked at me with a little smart-ass grin on her face," Becca insists angrily.
"I was grinning because of what just happened!" Summer points her thumb behind her to the bar, her eyes watering heavily.
Becca takes a step toward her. "Bullshit."
"Whatever! You need to get out of this house," Summer says, inching back as her sister walks around the bar and stands next to her.
"Yeah, you need to leave, now," her sister orders.
"Gladly," Becca responds. Then she turns and looks at me. "Come on."
I'm too embarrassed and upset to look at Summer as I pass her up. I'm too embarrassed to look at anyone, for that matter, because everyone's staring at us. I just keep my eyes glued to the ground in front of me, following closely behind Becca and Brian. But I'm not following Becca for the reason she might think.
As soon as we get into the open yard, I come to a screeching halt.
"So, was that fun for you? Tell me why you did that," I demand, crossing my arms under my chest. My blood is boiling right now. And when she and Brian turn around, I glare furiously into her eyes, and she reciprocates.
"I already told you why I did it, Dor. If you don't believe me, I really don't give a damn."
"Right, she grinned at you. That's reason enough to throw beer all over her," I reply. "I'm thinking you've just been waiting all night for your opportunity."
She sighs and rolls her eyes. "Whatever the hell you wanna think?let's go." She turns to Brian's truck.
"I'm not leaving, Becca." I stand firm, arms still crossed.
She turns back around and narrows her eyes at me. "Are you serious?"
"Yes! What you did in there was uncalled for. There was no reason for it."
She stands there looking at me for a few seconds, and I watch as her expression changes from anger to surprise. But then just as quickly, she lowers the corners of her mouth and shrugs, as if she couldn't care less.
"Fine." Then she turns around and she and Brian head to his truck.
I know in her mind I'm betraying her, but in my mind she's betraying me. She continues to put me in this position even though I've repeatedly asked her to give Summer a chance, for my sake. Not only has she refused to do that, she wants me to treat Summer the way Summer used to treat me, which I simply can't do, whether Summer's being genuine or not.
As I watch them drive off, an intense feel
ing of hopelessness and sadness flushes throughout my core. I feel as though I've lost all control of the situation. A situation which, in actuality, I may never have had control of to begin with. Up until now, I've always thought in the back of my mind I would ultimately be able to rein Becca in, and everything would be okay. But as I watch Brian's truck turn the corner and then disappear behind the houses, I realize that's not the case.
I glance behind me and see Bryson and Holly standing motionless in front of the hedges at the end of the walkway, staring at me with blank expressions.
Then I turn my eyes back to the spot where Brian's truck disappeared, trying to control my emotions. As angry as I am with Becca, my heart completely shattered as she drove away. And now I'm truly scared of the decision I may eventually be forced to make.
I feel the tears building in my eyes as I continue gazing down the street. For the first time, I start to wish I had never revealed my genius.
28
Unraveling
After watching Becca and Brian drive away Saturday night, I roughly wiped my watery eyes, then turned around and headed back to the house. The closer I got, the more my feelings of anger and embarrassment resurfaced, reminding me why I stood my ground. I apologized to Summer when she finally came back downstairs--in a different dress--and we hugged and talked for a while.
Later, when Bryson dropped me off at home, I flew upstairs to avoid conversation with my parents, quickly brushed my teeth, put on pajama pants and a tank top, and crawled into bed and pulled the covers over my head. I eventually cried myself to sleep, but only for a couple hours.
I spent all day Sunday in my room, except for the two hours my parents and Hailey dragged me out to watch a movie with them. Through my parents' insistence, I told them what happened, but I didn't stick around for long. I ended up fleeing back to my room mid-conversation, where I laid in bed the rest of the day, thinking about the situation. When I wasn't talking to Bryson or Holly, I was anxiously biting my thumbnail and staring at my phone, trying to decide whether or not to text Becca.
Sunday night went pretty much the same way. Sleep evaded me almost completely. I just laid there throughout the night with my eyes wide open, staring at the dark ceiling above me, deep in thought. I went back and forth in my head so many times I lost count. One minute it was definitely all Becca's fault, then the next minute it was definitely mine, then Becca's again, then mine again?it was a vicious cycle of indecision. And the absolute worst part is I've yet to come up with a promising solution to all of this. I'm beginning to feel trapped.
Monday morning I'm so exhausted, I head straight for the bathroom and splash some cold water on my face. Then I push a strand of wet hair off my cheek and stare at the tired eyes looking back at me in the mirror.
What have I done? I think to myself, my stare turning into a distant gaze. Becca and I have feared this all our lives and although this is far from how we thought it would happen, it's happening nonetheless. The revelation of my genius is coming between us. Now I'm wishing I could wave a magic wand and take it all back. Better yet, I would rid myself of this genius altogether.
But even with all that said, a small part of me wonders if my genius is really the culprit here. I mean, is it not possible that Summer was going to change--or pretend to change, according to Becca--anyway? Or perhaps she changed because of the car accident I was in.
While both of these scenarios are possible, I view them as unlikely. My genius appears to be what intrigued her and caused her transformation. And until evidence proving otherwise presents itself, that's what I'm going with.
Truth be told, though, none of this matters at all. My secret is out, and there's no going back. What I need now is a solution. And since it doesn't look like Becca's going to budge, I may very well end up facing a horrifying decision. A decision with only two devastating options:
1. Stand alongside Becca and bully Summer for no reason.
2. Let my friendship with Becca fall by the wayside.
I'm hoping Becca will eventually come to her senses and bail me out of this nightmare.