Be the Girl

“Whatever. It’s over. She’ll get bored and move on.”

A vacant look passes through his eyes. “I can’t believe I ever dated her. It makes me sick, thinking about it.”

Ms. Moretti is striding down the hall toward us at a brisk clip, her heels clicking against the tile, her eyes narrowing on us. I brace myself, waiting for her to remind Emmett of the PDA policy, but she merely gives me a thumbs-up. “Training hard this weekend?”

“Always.”

“I’ll make sure to chase her around Miller’s Park for ya,” Emmett offers with a grin.

“I’ll bet you will. And you know where to find me when you’re ready to talk, Aria.” She winks and keeps going.

“What’s that about? Ready to talk about what?”

“Nothing.” I wave it off. “Cross-country stuff.”

“You ever get the feeling that Moretti has her tiny little finger on everything going on in the school?”

“I’m beginning to.” I haven’t decided yet if that’s a good or a bad thing.

Cassie is ready to go, standing by her locker, her backpack sitting over her shoulders. Her curious eyes search passing faces to find the familiar ones so she can call out their names and wave. Some wave back at her, some smile and offer their goodbyes.

Some keep their heads down, though I doubt they missed her voice.

And with each one of those people, I see that bright light dim in Cassie’s eyes for a second as she watches them pass, ignoring her. I feel an unexpected urge to slap those people across the head.

Is it really too much to acknowledge her? Just give her a nod?

We’re maybe ten feet away when a cluster of three guys—young, I’m guessing ninth graders—stroll past, catching her residual smile. The brown-haired one on the left waves at her, earning her curious frown.

“I don’t know you,” she says out loud.

“Then why are you waving and smiling at me like that?” he throws back, his tone full of scorn. He follows it up with a rendition of her, only he adds a goofy laugh that is clearly meant to mock.

Her smile slips. Not entirely, but enough to make me think she’s picked up on the teasing.

Emmett’s arm disappears from my shoulder and he charges forward, grabbing hold of the guy’s shoulder and yanking him around.

“You have a problem with someone waving at you?” Emmett’s voice is low and even, and yet it sets the hair on the back of my neck on edge.

The guy’s amusement vanishes as he peers up at Emmett’s towering form. “Uh … no, man,” he stammers. “No.”

“Because that’s my sister back there.”

The boy’s eyes flash to us, fear in them growing by the second. Has he heard what Emmett did to Adam Levic’s face? “I didn’t know.”

“It doesn’t matter if you knew. Don’t be a dickhead to anyone who doesn’t deserve it.” He gives the guy a small shove, just hard enough to make the guy stumble a few steps before he takes off briskly down the hall.

Cassie giggles, but then scowls, as if catching herself. “Why did you push him, Emmett?”

“Because he’s a—” Emmett cuts off abruptly, shaking his head. “It doesn’t matter. You ready to go?” He begins walking toward the doors.

Her eyes trail after the guy. “That boy was being mean to me,” she says after a beat, as if she needed to roll the last few moments over in her mind to decide that.

“Yeah, he was.” I smile softly.

“Yeah … sometimes kids are mean to me.” She says it in an offhand way, but I notice the way her shoulders droop. “Is it because I have autism?”

An ache forms in my throat at the fact that she’s made that connection, that she’s not wrong. “It’s because they don’t know how awesome you are.”

“Yeah.” She frowns, her doubt lingering. “I don’t think anyone’s going to ask me to prom.”

It takes me a second to jump onto her new train of thought and think of a suitable answer. “Lots of people go without a date. Friends go together.”

“See you tomorrow, Cass!” a girl with long white-blonde hair and bright green eyes calls out as she strolls by.

“Oh, bye, Allie! See you tomorrow!” Cassie’s blue-gray eyes follow the girl, her wide smile back in place. “She’s nice to me.”

“She is.”

After a moment, Cassie adds in a deadpan voice, “She knows how awesome I am.”





“I took ten, see, AJ …? AJ …? AJ …?”

“Hold on …” My eyes are glued to Emmett as he speeds and weaves with quick hands around first one player, and then another, before stopping and passing the puck to his teammate, who shoots.

The puck sails into the net as Cassie’s elbow prods my side.

“What?” She is so impatient!

Unbothered by my sharp tone, Cassie holds her palm out to show me the Junior Mints cupped within. A ring of hot chocolate surrounds her lips. “I took ten. Is that okay?”

“Yeah, that’s fine.” I dismiss her, my attention back on Emmett, who’s bumping gloved fists with his teammate.

“These are my favorite, too.”

“Watch the game, Cass.”

She shoves the entire handful of mints into her mouth, and then shifts her focus to picking at her fingernails for the rest of the game, not uttering a word until five minutes before the end of the last period, when she inhales sharply. “Holly!” She grins and waves.

I follow her gaze and find Holly sitting on the other side with a few girls. “What is she doing here?” I mutter.

“Watching hockey.”

“Yeah, but why? This is Emmett’s game.”

Cassie shrugs. “She’s his friend.”

“No, she isn’t,” I say evenly. “They broke up and they’re not friends anymore.”

“So, they’re enemies?”

I stifle my groan. Emmett wasn’t kidding—everything is black or white with Cassie. “They’re just not friends anymore, okay?”

Cassie shrugs, the eager smile on her face falling with each moment she watches Holly and Holly ignores her.

“Didn’t Emmett tell you not to talk to her anymore?”

Cassie goes back to picking her fingernails, mumbling, “But she’s my friend.”

“No. She isn’t. Holly was pretending to be your friend so she could get close to Emmett.”

Her fingers pause as she glowers at her hands. “She’s not my friend.”

“No. And she’s not a nice person.”

More picking.

I cringe as the sight of her nails, ripped off to the quick, her cuticles torn and bloody.

“Are you my friend?” she asks suddenly.

“Yeah. Of course.”

“Will you still be my friend next year when Emmett is gone?”

When Emmett is a sixteen-and-a-half-hour drive away—I mapped it out of curiosity—at college, with college girls and college life. I can’t help but hear another meaning behind her words: when Emmett and I break up, because I’d be a fool to think we’ll last. My chest tightens with that thought.

But that’s not even what she’s asking. Cassie wants to know if I’ll still walk home with her after school every day, if I’ll watch movies with her that I miss half of because I’m answering her bizarre questions; if I’ll still tolerate her mindless chatter and scattered conversations.

If I’ll still be nice to her.

This girl who speaks slowly and runs awkwardly, who can only manage short spurts of eye contact and stiffens under anyone’s touch, who struggles to match appropriate emotions with situations.

Who finds joy in the simplest things, who will never sit at a cafeteria table or in a bathroom and say mean things behind people’s backs.

Who understands more than most people give her credit for.

Whose heart can’t seem to hold animosity, even toward those who have been cruel to her.

Who has only ever wanted to be a friend to me since the moment she stepped out of her mom’s car with a bag of cookies.

“Of course, I will,” I promise.

“Yeah, okay.” She finally looks up to offer me a wide grin and a nod. “Are you going to eat those Junior Mints?”





“Three more slides, and then you can have another kiss.” I roll off Emmett’s bed and plant myself on the floor, my lips still tingling.